Don't Be a Hero: A Superhero Novel

22: Home, Whatever That Means

We are the strangers who guard the world through the night. No. She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. She had been good. She’d saved lives, fought villains. She’d stood side by side with some of the greatest heroes of her generation. And what had that got her? The normals had loved their heroes. Until they got scared. Until those superpowers started to cost normals their jobs. Her old teammates had all given up, retiring injured like Gabby or just sucking down so much booze they couldn’t fight off the flu, let alone Suicide Prime or the Manhunters. She and the Carpenter were no more than mercenaries now. They couldn’t hold back the darkness on their own.

“I’m leaving Earth,” she said, quieter now. She put the cigarette between her lips, but didn’t light it. “Me and Gabby. We’re going to the Moon.”

He pulled onto the highway, and the industrial district fell away behind them. “Oh.”

“Oh?” she said. “That’s all you’ve got to say?”

“I’m thinking. Gimme a break.” She could see him turning the words over in his mind.

The silence grew thick. He had the look of a disappointed parent. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I know what you’re thinking. But there’s nothing here to stay for. We’ll be safer up there. It’ll be easier to protect Gabby. And she won’t have to worry about me getting into trouble.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “Is that what you guys were arguing about?”

“Something like that.”

“Because she worries about you?”

“Yeah,” she said.

“Are you sure?”

“What are you, the love doctor?”

He smiled and gestured in front of him. “Look around you.”

She stared out the window. “What? The city?”

He shook his head. “This car. Who put it together for us? Who fixed it?”

“Gabby, but—”

“Those goggles. That gun. All them gizmos on your belt. Who made them for you?”

“You know damn well who made them,” she said, pulling her goggles close to her stomach. “Make your point.”

He shrugged. “Just doesn’t seem like the sort of thing she’d do if she didn’t want you out here doing this.” He switched lanes to overtake a late-night driver. “My wife doesn’t like me going out, ‘cause she doesn’t get it. She was never a hero. But Gabby was the Silver Scarab. You really think she doesn’t understand why you’re out here every night?”

She chewed her lip. “That doesn’t mean she’s not worried about me.”

“I never said it did. Heck, I was worried about you a couple of hours ago when we were about to walk into Quanta’s hideout. We’re pals. But that’s not why she’s upset.”

“Oh, so you’re not a love doctor, you’re just a psychic,” she said.

“Let me guess,” he said. “You’ve been keeping things from her. Not telling her what the case is about, or how dangerous it’s likely to be. You’ve tried to insulate her. Stick her in a box full of cotton wool. Don’t let her worry her pretty little head. Am I warm?”

Niobe realised she was chewing the end of her cigarette. The Carpenter’s grin grew wider when she didn’t say anything.

“She’s not upset because you go out,” he said. “She’s upset because you’re leaving her behind.”