"Lawrence Watt - Evans - One of the Boys" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

One of the Boys
Lawrence Watt-Evans
==========

Heroes are by their nature different from the rest of humanity. When it is carried to extremes, this
can cause problems.

==========

A fist like a triphammer, the newspapers called it. He tensed the muscles in his arm again in that special
way, that way nobody else on Earth could do, and he let the tension go, driving his hand forward.

The metal braces that covered his fingers smashed into the con-crete with a sound like a cherry bomb.
The blocks shattered, spraying dust and fragments in all directions, and his fist went right through; his arm
sank into the wall up to the elbow. Shards of concrete smacked against his armor, rattling and
ricocheting, and he didn’t so much as blink,

Behind his mirrored visor a grin spread across his face. Punching through a wall—now, that was a
satisfying sensation. He pulled his arm out and chose another spot, about a foot to the left. He cocked his
fist and drew it back for another blow,

“Last chance, Morguson!” someone called from behind. “If we have to come in after you, you aren’t
gonna like it!”

He paused, fist ready. That was Red, offering the punk a chance to surrender. You always had to give
the guy a chance to go quietly. Red was good about stuff like that—he never forgot the rules.

A spray of machine-gun fire came out through the hole he had just punched; bullets rattled off his armor,
off his visor.

He didn’t flinch; instead, aiming toward the source of the bullets, he punched through the wall again,
spattering chips of concrete in Morguson’s direction.

“Ow! Okay, okay!” came the shriek from inside. “Okay, I give! I’m opening the door!”

Morguson’s voice. The little wimp was giving up.

“Do it, then!” he bellowed. “And drop the gun!”

“Easy, Captain,” Red whispered.

He froze, thinking. Had he screwed up, said something wrong?

No, it was okay. Red thought he was losing his temper and wanted to calm him down, that was all. That
was fine. That was all in the pattern.

Had he been losing his temper? Maybe he had. Or at any rate, maybe the adrenaline rush from punching
through the wall was getting to him.

That assumed it was adrenaline, and of course, nobody really knew. Whatever it was, it certainly seemed