Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

11: An Inside Job

Brightlance

Real name: Edward Hardy

Powers: Palm-fired energy beams.

Notes: Hardy was offered membership in the Wardens in the early 1950s, but he preferred to remain independent, focussing on local crime-fighting. His relationship with the Wardens remained amicable, and he assisted them on several missions. When the Seoul Accord was passed, he tried to resist mandatory registration. In the ensuing battle with police he was shot three times and suffered a skull fracture from a blow to the head. While unconscious in hospital, he was fitted with a kill-switch. He remains in forced retirement.

—Notes on selected metahumans [Entry #0820]

***

“You’re an idiot,” Solomon reminded her as he drove. “And I don’t go throwing that word around. I keep it nice and safe like good china, ready to bring out for those occasions of extra-special idiocy.”

Niobe scowled and dabbed at the scratches on her cheek with tissue paper. She’d requisitioned the rear-view mirror to see how bad the damage was. Three deep gouges ran from her ear to her chin. She’d only just got them to stop bleeding. After driving back to the Old City, she’d changed into her bodysuit and trench coat. Her jacket and blouse were a write-off. She’d never get the bloodstains out. Oh Christ, how am I going to explain this to Gabby?

“Thanks for the constructive criticism.” She dipped the tissue paper in a bottle of antiseptic and touched it to the wounds. Bloody hell, it stung. “I’ll stick it straight in my suggestions box.”

“What the heck were you thinking?”

“I was working.” What did they make this antiseptic out of, acid? “I was trying to get us closer to payday.”

Solomon scoffed and shook his head. Like her, he was in costume apart from his mask and hat. Anyone glancing at the car would probably assume he was a man taking his young wife out for a drive. His cloak was pushed back over his shoulder, and both hands were gripped tight around the steering wheel as they made their way towards Neo-Auckland. “What’s got into you, Spook? Why didn’t you call me? You could’ve been hurt!”

“I am hurt.”

“Exactly!” he said. “You got carved like a roast chicken and no one was there to back you up. Heroes have to work together.”

She slapped a gauze pad from the first aid kit onto her cheek harder than she intended, and a new wave of pain shot through her face. “Should I call up the Wardens next time, then? Get the old gang together? That’s what you want, right?”

His eyes narrowed, but his voice took on an infuriating calm, like a teacher scolding a foolish child. “I want us to keep doing what we chose to do. What we have to do. Wardens or not.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Back then, we did what we did because of what was in here.” He jabbed his chest with his finger. “Not because someone gave us permission. They took a lot of things from us. But this…” He pointed to his heart again. “…this is still here.”

“Not for me.” Niobe stared out the window as the suburbs of Neo-Auckland came into view. “You’re the last damn hero, Carpenter. It’s time to grow up and leave the fantasy behind.”

They fell silent. The car rattled its particular rattles while Solomon guided it onto the upper highway. The green suburbs and brick houses stretched out below them as they headed for the centre of the city.