Chapter 32 Nervous.

Chapter 32: 32 Nervous.

Arriving in good time, I once more got the evil eye from the doorman—what is it with this guy—while I waited.

Glacia emerged quickly, hurrying across the sidewalk and fairly jumping into the car with me. She took in my monkey suit thoughtfully.

"Don’t like it?" I asked.

"N-no, sir. That’s not it. It just... well, doesn’t seem to suit you," she said.

I had to agree with her. These kinds of clothes were never really ’me’.

A lot of guys can wear a suit effortlessly, but I never got a good feeling for them.

I wore them so rarely as it brought back memories, but Julia had one delivered to me that morning.

Honestly, I’d almost forgotten to get one, and I admit I felt a little suspicious about how Lacey got my measurements so accurately.

Yet even perfectly fitted I felt uncomfortable in it. Too formal for me. I’m more used to capes, metal, and helmets.

But nothing for it.

I pulled out from in front of the building as twilight began to stretch its shadows over the world, the streetlights coming on slowly, the glow from shop.

Windows fluttering among the rows of glittering skyscrapers and the tick tack toe glow from late workers in office buildings.

Traffic got dense the closer we got to the gallery, and I had to pull over and park in front of a McDonald’s, the glow of the golden arches almost painfully bright to look at.

I shut the door and walked Glacia towards the gallery proper. Not far from it we shifted directions and slipped into the alley running behind the building.

Six figures lounged within, all dressed in such a motley variety of clothes it looked like they’d raided a goodwill. Which was about right.

Steve never bothered giving his boys anything matching or particularly coordinated, which left them looking like a rejected gang from the Warriors.

As we came near they stirred, the ones squatting against the wall standing up.

Six identical faces turned to us, which made Glacia pause, clearly disconcerted. I didn’t blame her. Seeing so many clones of one person threw most people.

"Eyyyy, what? Never met sextuplets before?" one of the Steve’s said, grinning.

"I doubt many people have," I said, passing the Steve the case. The others crowded around as they opened it up and picked out the uniforms.

"Eyyyy. Not bad," Steve said.

"I like the hockey stick," Steve added.

"Oooh, lovin’ the masks. Very thematic," Steve also said.

"Always the good hench gear with you," Steve said, tipping a fedora with a leopard print band at me.

"Only the best," I said. "Get in gear, boys. We’ve got a big night."

I left them to it. We’d have looked pretty weird, I had to say.

A man in a suit, a woman in a long winter coat in the dead of summer, and six identical men stripping and putting on arctic uniforms. But in this city, shit like that barely registered on the radar for ’weird’.

Hell, Metropolis still had phonebooths all over town, not because anyone needed them to make a call, but because a number of heroes still used them to change. And junkies to shoot up in, I supposed, but so it goes.

"Nervous?" I asked Glacia.

"No, sir," she said at once.

I gave her the once over, and knew she was lying.

Her hands were clenched so tight at her sides the knuckles were whiter than usual. But the last thing she needed was me to point it out.

"You’ll do great," I said. "You’ve got a good handle on your powers, your henchmen know exactly what they’re supposed to do and are utter professionals. And I’ll be there just in case," I added.

Glacia nodded, taking a deep breath, and I was relieved to see a bit of the tension loosen from her jaw. "Yes," she said, looking back to me with a smile. "Yes. You’re right, sir. I’ll make you proud."

For a moment I was shocked at how pretty she looked. I cleared my throat and glanced away.

"Yeah. Of course you will. Listen," I said, checking my watch. "I gotta get in there and work the crowd a bit. Don’t forget to make your entrance big. Make it loud. And make it villainous!"

"Yes sir!" she said, straightening as if she were about to salute, then thought better of it.

I left her before it could get awkward, leaving the alley and heading around to the entrance of the gallery.

Rich people parties were funny. I’d been part of a number of them, and not always as the guy who blows off the doors and shoots a shotgun into the ceiling.

I’d occasionally been invited to schmooze around, and early in my career I actually worked bodyguard at a few events.

Those were days I never wanted to go back to. Money makes people strange, and these kinds of parties were swimming in cash.

In essence, you got two kinds. You had Old Money parties, which resemble something from the Great Gatsby, with lots of suits, lots of shiny dresses, and lots of older people you’ll never see in magazines, but who with a word and a gentlemanly shake of hands make the world spin.

Those are the more polite, stuffy, solid kinds of parties which usually revolve around charity auctions or that kind of thing. The sorts of people who own their money through investment, real estate, and probably a seat in Davos or the WEF.

Then you have the new money type. Those were typically younger, crazier and much more colourful.

Those were the sorts where the press swarm and cameras flash off sequins.

Where red carpets were laid out and you wouldn’t be surprised to see someone walk out of a limo naked but for some body paint and maybe a couple diamonds.

Celebrities, industry insiders, influencers, people riding those fifteen minutes of fame. Those are the people who need to flaunt their wealth and show it off.

By far my least favorite kind of rich person. With old money, you at least knew where you stood.

With new money, they thought they’d unlocked some hidden key to the world, and that they understood what’s really going on. That kind are like kids who got a flamethrower for Christmas.

And guess which one the Diamond Exhibition was for?

I dodged around the initial press, the front of the gallery lit up with spotlights like they were watching the sky for bombers.

Crowds crushed the velvet ropes, trying to get a glimpse of the stunning few who strolled up the carpets to the doors, media reporters shouting questions and names that usually showed up in lights.

I slipped around the crowd, up the stairs and through the side. I flashed my invitation to the man at the doors who nodded and waved me in.

So far so good.

Though I’d seen them setting it up, actually coming into the party was something else entirely.

The room was filled with globes of light that floated in the air, courtesy of some holographic projectors set up in the corners.

Waiters in black and white drifted through the room with trays of drinks and foods, unobtrusive despite the gathering. Huge banners and dividers plastered with the logos of sponsors were all over the place, but the biggest was undoubtedly Razer’s sharp red R.

It was absolutely everywhere, even projected atop the sphere above the check in desk, rotating like some menacing mark of domination in a bad cyberpunk reboot.

Well, they paid for the event and the villain, so I guess it was within their right to flaunt it.

People meandered, chatting and laughing, the biggest knot of them near the distant stage where the diamond rested in its holder atop the cushion.

A number of the guests had their backs to it, phones upraised, filming themselves for social media.

I snatched a drink off a wandering tray, as well as some of those delightful little sausage things wrapped in batter and likely organic, free trade seaweed.

I may have hated these events, but the food never disappointed.

I moved slowly through the room, unobtrusive as I could be, sipping my drink as I looked around the place, trying to spot anything that might get in the way of tonight’s performance.

The biggest threat was some of the guests. Get enough billionaires together and odds were a few had a personal set of power armour, moonlighted in spandex beating up thugs, or was the member of some cursed bloodline.

Mostly though, it looked like just celebs and lots of press types. Which was no surprise.

This was meant to be a debut of heroes and villains. Razer would want as many around who could spread the word.

I focused deeper on my powers, feeling the metal around the room. There was a lot of it, but mainly small things. Components in phones, earrings, necklaces, rings.

I also picked up a few cybernetics, and made a note to myself to keep an eye on those. Most cyber heroes were run by corporations, but it didn’t feel like too many were here today.

"Enjoying yourself?"