Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

7: In Another's Shoes

Ballista

Real name: Amy Duncan

Powers: Enhanced vision, pinpoint accuracy.

Notes: Acted as an independent crime-fighter throughout New Zealand in the late 1950s. Her powers led her to favour an oversized modified crossbow as her weapon of choice. Most famous for breaking up the child prostitution ring led by former Attorney-General Julian Radcliffe. Accepted registration and kill-switching after the Seoul Accord was signed, then retired.

—Notes on selected metahumans [Entry #1894]

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The Blind Man sat alone in a straight-backed chair in the middle of what had once been a hotel pub. The Māori man had too much skin; it sagged around his chin and cheeks, but there was an air of dignity around him. His eyes were clouded, constantly shifting. He was blind to this world, but he could still see things no one else could. He cocked his left ear towards them as they came into the room.

Hine-nui-te-pō hovered in first, announcing herself and her guests to her husband. Niobe followed. Solomon came in last, but when the Blind Man beckoned them forwards, Hine-nui-te-pō silently urged Solomon in front of them. It was a nod to the old ways, where the men’s duty on entering another’s meeting place was to protect the women and guard their retreat. That irked her; she was capable of taking care of her own damn self. But she did what she was told and stayed behind the Carpenter. She was a guest. She’d abide by their rules, for now.

They stopped just inside the doorway, and for a moment, there was silence in the room. The old pub had long been stripped of fixtures and wallpaper, if they had even survived the bomb. In their place were portraits of ancestors and wooden carvings of taniwha. They lacked the skill of a professional, but had a life all of their own.

A familiar policeman’s uniform hung in the corner. She smiled at that. Back when she was a member of the Wardens, they’d investigated a disturbance in a small town to the north of Neo-Auckland. Police had been trying to evict the Blind Man’s people from contested land. Fifty coppers had stormed the makeshift settlement the Blind Man had established there, but within minutes, the police guarding the perimeter lost radio contact with the team. Half an hour later, all the officers marched out like clockwork dolls, stark naked except for their helmets. Not one of them could recall what had happened after they entered. The coppers wanted the Wardens to show the Blind Man and his people the business end of their fists, but Niobe, Carpenter, and Battle Jack decided some battles weren’t worth fighting.

“Husband,” Hine-nui-te-pō said, finally breaking the silence, “the Carpenter and Spook want to speak to you.”

The Blind Man’s face was fixed in a small smile. He wore a black double-breasted suit that’d seen better days, and his left hand gripped the handle of a ceremonial walking stick carved with outlandish faces. The eyes near the haft of the stick were set with paua shell, giving them a rainbow sheen. The Blind Man remained motionless except for his mouth.

“What do you seek?” He spoke quietly, but his deep voice resonated.

“Knowledge,” the Carpenter said. “To know what we do not know, to see what we have not seen.”

Solomon always got a kick out of the ceremony. Niobe was just thankful the Blind Man didn’t draw it out any more than he already did.

The Blind Man’s smile did not move, but the crinkles around his shifting eyes deepened. “Come,” he said.

Solomon led them forwards. At a gesture from Hine-nui-te-pō, they drew up chairs in front of the man. Silence reigned for a few moments while Hine-nui-te-pō retreated and returned with drinks. It was sauvignon blanc for the Carpenter and Niobe, and a tall glass of lager for the Blind Man. She pulled her mask up to uncover her lips and they sipped in silence. The wine wasn’t bad.