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Hell of a first day.
McNider tried to push himself up before every muscle in his body told him to knock that right off and just lay facedown on the pavement for a while. Technically it was his third outing with the JSA but the previous two had been quick dust ups, barely serious enough to count as dress rehearsals. This had been the real deal, the first full scale fight against ISA and it could definitely have gone a little better.
Sparks flew from the side of his goggles and McNider winced; the ISA’s giant...thing, he thought Sylvester had called it Grundy, had picked him up and tossed him like shot put, he knew winding up with just a set of broken goggles instead of some broken bones was a damn stroke of luck. He knew that.
McNider swallowed hard when he opened his eyes and saw nothing. It had been three years since he’d been caught out in the daylight without either glasses or goggles, he was always so careful. He felt his chest start to go tight and tried to breathe through the panic attack he knew was coming; it was even longer since he’d dealt with one of those but as soon as he’d opened his eyes he’d gone right back to that moment we’d he’d woken up in the hospital, to listening to doctors he could hear but not see tell him how sorry they were that the surgery hadn’t been successful. He should have just let himself pass out, he was worse than useless to the rest of the JSA like this. Maybe it had been a mistake to join up in the first place.
He heard footsteps approaching. Footsteps and a repetitive, metallic click against the concrete sidewalk. McNider thought for a second about playing dead but ultimately pushed himself up, first onto his elbows and then to almost sitting; that didn’t sound like one of the friendlies and if any of the ISA caught on to how vulnerable he was he was toast, if not today then in the future, they would go straight for his goggles every time. The goggles were cracked and nonfunctional but they still hid his eyes. Faking his way through the next few minutes could determine the entire rest of his life.
“Oh ho, you’re a new one,” he heard, the footsteps stopping just in front of him. “You must be the Dr. Mid-Nite I’ve heard about.”
English accent, he thought, remembering the pre-mission briefing. The Shade, that’s the Shade. That was bad, but McNider supposed it beat Grundy trying to hurl him into orbit again. He gritted his teeth and turned his head toward the sound—
And stopped breathing for a second, because he could see him.
Not the way he would at night, or even through his goggles; the term vanta black hadn’t been coined yet but when he heard it years later McNider knew that was closest to the word for it - the suit and top hat he knew the Shade was wearing looked like it was made of shadow deeper and darker somehow than the darkness surrounding it, like holes punched in space. The face under that hat looked like a photo negative of a person, his eyes lit from within. McNider knew he was staring but couldn’t help it, he hadn’t expected to see anything in the daylight ever again.
Fortunately either the goggles kept the staring from being obvious or the Shade was the type to enjoy being stared at; he used the point of the cane he carried to tip McNider’s chin up. “And what is it that you do, I wonder?” the Shade said, in a tone that made it very clear that he was prepared to be disappointed.
The cane under his chin felt like metal but it was made of the same deep, impossible shadow black as the suit, and this close he could see it shifting minutely, as if it were as alive as the rest of him. In addition to the photo negative eyes there was a line of light marring his off hand shoulder, pulsing gently like a heartbeat, with thin wisps of shadows coming off it like smoke, “Looks like we’re having the same kind of day,” McNider said, ignoring the question. “Who tagged you?”
“You can see that?” the Shade said, visibly surprised.
McNider smiled. He felt light-headed, reckless; in college he’d gone through a free climbing phase and every time he’d wound up dangling one-handed off a cliff it had felt exactly like this. “That’s what I do. I see things in the dark.”
The Shade tucked the cane back under his good arm and smiled. “Oh, we are going to get along delightfully, I can already tell.”
When he gestured the wound in his shoulder glowed brighter and McNider winced in sympathy. “You should put your arm in a sling,” he said, shaking his head when he caught himself. “Guess I can’t turn the doctor part off.”
“Did you actually earn your credential?” the Shade said. “How marvelous, I think you’re the first one I’ve met who has. Frauds, all the rest of—”
The Shade cut off, looking off to the side at something McNider couldn’t see. A second later there was the heavy thump of boots landing on concrete; he felt a sudden rush of heat and tasted something metallic on the roof of his mouth. Sylvester. Must be. He knew he was right even before Sylvester spoke; when he looked back at the Shade he had both hands up, his chin raised like something with a point was at his throat. “Get away from him,” Sylvester said, his voice low and angry and sounding very, very done with everything.
“I never touched him,” the Shade said, which McNider supposed was technically true. He wondered why the Shade hadn’t discorporated himself out of danger, McNider knew he was well capable of that, but then he saw the Shade glance at him from the corner of his eye. A test then. He wanted to see what McNider would do.
Unless the injury really was hampering him. Maybe they were both faking their way through things. “The fight is over, Starman,” the Shade said, sounding like he was trying to choose his words very carefully. “Yes, the JSA lost but with no real harm done, I suggest—”
The Shade hissed in a breath, his chin jerking up higher; there was a sudden hum that McNider felt in his teeth and he didn’t need his sight to know that staff was lit up now. “You make a suggestion right now and it’ll be your last one,” Sylvester said. “I’m betting even you need your head.”
“Starman!” McNider said, needing to break this up; the Shade’s eyes were closed and there was a tiny pinprick of light now where the point of the staff was pressed to his throat. If the Shade was testing him, okay, so what. “It’s okay, he didn’t do anything, he’s telling the truth.”
“You see?” the Shade said, and McNider would give a whole lot for him to stop talking right now.
“It’s okay,” he said again, wishing he could see Sylvester’s face, his body language, anything. “But if the fighting really is over I sure could use a hand.”
He held his breath as two very long seconds passed by, but then the unearthly hum from the staff stopped. The Shade lowered his hands, his posture relaxing; from the sound McNider thought Sylvester was backing up toward him, probably not wanting to let the Shade out of sight. He felt Sylvester’s hand on his shoulder. “You sure you’re good, Doc?”
He could tell the Shade was smiling, but not the same way he had when they’d been speaking before. “A lovely rest of the day to you both, gentlemen,” he said, tipping his hat to them before…dissolving was the best way McNider could describe it, the surrounding darkness filling in like nothing had ever disturbed it. McNider immediately felt that crushing claustrophobia rush back and shut his eyes. He groped for Sylvester’s arm and felt himself being helped up.
“Oh hell, Doc, are your goggles busted?” He was glad Sylvester had been the one to find him, not everyone on the team knew his...limitations yet. He felt the air move in front of his face and wondered if Sylvester was waving his hand in front of his eyes, people always tried that. “I had no idea, that was great. There was no way he picked up on anything.”
McNider started to say that the Shade wouldn’t have picked up on it because he had actually been able to see him but the words didn’t come. It felt…private, almost. Or like if he told anyone it might not happen the next time. “Yeah, well, that was the idea,” he said, feeling bad that he was lying to his friend, especially since he didn’t quite understand why.
Sylvester sighed, draping McNider’s arm around his shoulders to hold him up. “No one thought Grundy would be here for this one, if we’d known we’d be dealing with him and the Shade we would’ve tapped Dr. Fate or one of the other big guns, we got our clocks cleaned.”
“Everyone okay?”
“Yeah, nothing permanent I think. Wildcat might’ve broken his arm, Sportsmaster cracked Alan good with his bat, he might be a little concussed, that wood thing keeps biting him. Stripesy needs some stitches. You?”
“Mostly in one piece.”
“Best you can hope for sometimes, right? We were hoping you could give everyone a look over, if you’re up to it later.” He started gingerly helping McNider walk back toward what he assumed was the rendezvous. “The Shade really didn’t do anything? My goddamn heart stopped when I saw him next to you.”
McNider shook his head. “Just talked.”
Sylvester let out an ugly laugh. “Yeah, he’s sure good at that.” Sylvester readjusted his weight. “Look, Doc, don’t let the Shade fool you, just because he makes himself look like a person doesn’t mean he is one.” McNider knew he must have had one hell of a look on his face at hearing that because Sylvester stopped. “I know how that sounds. I do. But I have been dealing with him for a long time, way before the JSA.” He let out a long sigh. “When the old Starman gave me the staff,” he said, his voice quiet now, very serious for him, “he was on his deathbed, I barely got there in time. And he told me to do three things: protect the staff. Keep Opal City safe. And last, to watch out for the Shade. And let me tell you, when a man uses his dying breath to warn you about someone, it makes an impression. Drove him out of Opal City and he’s been haunting me ever since, so trust me on this one. He’s dangerous.”
And McNider had read the file, so he knew that was true. “He seems to hold back a lot.”
“He likes playing with us. LIke it’s a hobby or something, I can’t stand it. Someday he’s gonna get real bored with that and it’s going to be bad for everyone.”
McNider looked back at where they’d come; he hadn’t really expected anything but there was…something. A human-shaped silhouette, a much deeper black than should ever be possible.
But then he blinked and it was gone and he couldn’t be sure if it wasn’t just his mind trying to create something in the darkness.
“Doc? You hear something?”
McNider shook his head. “The wind.”
“Hey,” Sylvester said a little while later, as they slowly limped toward the others. “We didn’t scare you off, did we? I know today was rough.”
“Are you about to say it’s not always like this?”
He heard Sylvester take a breath, then seem to think better of it. “Nah,” he admitted. “It kinda is, even when we win. The ISA are always a rough day at the office. You’re still up for us to call you the next time though, right?”
McNider closed his eyes for a moment, reliving that impossible moment when he saw someone else’s face with just his own eyes while the sun was out. He felt for just an instant that impression of hanging from one hand off the edge of a cliff. “You’d better.”