“Eat, sleep, hunt,” said Adrian. “That pretty much covers all the dinosaur instincts I know of, so I doubt he’ll ever do much more than that.”
“If by hunting, you mean gnawing on the leftover meat from my dinners. By the way…” Max gestured to something over Adrian’s shoulder. “Did you know you’re dead?”
Adrian turned to see one of the screens playing a video of the Sentinel being thrown off the barge and disappearing beneath the water. It had been recorded from Nova’s fancy binoculars and was the clearest footage that anyone had managed to catch of the Sentinel so far.
“Were you worried?” said Adrian.
“No.”
“What? Not at all?”
Max started to respond and Adrian knew it would be to deny it again, but he hesitated and admitted, “Maybe for about five seconds or so, but I knew you’d be fine.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” Adrian glanced around and, though the sky bridge was empty, lowered his voice. “Of course, we really shouldn’t talk about this here.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Max, unconcerned. He was the only one who had figured out Adrian’s identity, a conclusion he reached after watching Adrian leap more than halfway across the quarantine in an effort to save Nova. It really was a shame that he was stuck in here all the time, because the kid would have been a great investigator. “Do you ever think about telling them?”
Adrian gulped. He tried to meet Max’s eyes, but Max was still watching the news footage.
“Every single time I see them,” he admitted. “But every time I see them, it gets a little bit harder.”
Adrian had never intended to keep this secret for so long. In the beginning, he’d been excited to tell his dads about his tattoos and how he could use them to give himself new powers. But since then, things had gotten out of control. As the Sentinel, he’d broken a lot of rules. He’d endangered civilian lives. He’d damaged public buildings and infrastructure. He’d searched private property without the “evidence” of wrongdoing that the Renegades would have required. He’d used violent force to apprehend criminals when maybe—maybe—he could have found a way to stop them without causing harm. The list went on.
But he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of it. Breaking those rules had allowed him to do a lot of good. In the past month alone he’d single-handedly captured seventeen criminals, including two prodigies. He’d stopped car thieves, house burglars, drug dealers, and more. Yes, he’d gone against the code at times, but he was still a superhero.
Somehow, though, he didn’t think his dads would see it that way. What would they do if they found out his secret identity? If they showed him leniency, when anyone else would be arrested, it would be a blatant disregard for the Council’s laws. Their laws.
And Adrian didn’t want to put them in that position. He didn’t want to make them have to choose between him and the Renegades.
To be honest, he also wasn’t sure he wanted to know what their choice would be.
“Maybe…,” Max started, though his voice was quiet. “Maybe you won’t have to tell them.” He gestured up at the television. “Given that the Sentinel is dead.”
Adrian blinked. It hadn’t occurred to him that this could be the end of his alter ego, but … Max was right. This would be an easy way out. If he never transformed again, everyone would assume that the Sentinel had drowned. No one would have to know.
But the thought of never becoming the Sentinel again made his stomach lurch.
The Renegades weren’t enough. Gatlon City needed him.
“Do you think that would be best?” he asked.
“It would be easiest,” Max said. “Also … highly disappointing.”
The corner of Adrian’s mouth twitched. “That would be the worst thing of all.”
Max sighed. “No Sentinel, no patrol … you’re going to be so bored.”
Adrian cast him a weak smile. “That’s not entirely true. I have … some idea of how to fill my time.” At Max’s curious expression, he leaned closer to the glass. “There are still three Anarchists out there, right? Queen Bee, Cyanide, and Phobia. I may not be on the official investigation team, but with all this free time, I figured maybe I could do a bit of side research.”
“Have the patrols found anything since they abandoned the subway tunnels?”
He shook his head. “No. But they’re out there somewhere.”
And with the Nightmare investigation gone cold—what with her probable death and all—he needed a new direction if he was ever going to find his mother’s killer. The Anarchists were his best hope for bringing the murderer to justice.
Adrian’s wristband chimed with an incoming message. He tapped the screen and Oscar’s text started to scrawl around his arm.
Ruby just got released from med-wing. Heading to meeting room. Any word from Nova?
“I have to get going,” said Adrian. “The Council called everyone in for a big meeting this morning. You don’t happen to know what it’s about, do you?”
Max’s expression turned strangely vacant. “I might,” he said.
“Oh?”
Max shook his head. “I might be wrong. I don’t know. Come tell me when it’s over, okay?”
“Can do.” Adrian pulled a new marker from his back pocket—a replacement for the one that had fallen into the river—and sketched an earthworm onto the glass wall. He pushed it through, sending the wriggling creature into Max’s open palm. “A snack for Turbo when he wakes up.”
* * *
HE FOUND OSCAR, Ruby, and Danna in the hall outside the grand meeting room. “You’re free,” he said, beaming.
“I know!” said Ruby, throwing her arms gleefully into the air. “I should have gone home yesterday, but there’s that antiquated twenty-four-hour waiting period. I don’t understand why the healers think they know how our powers work better than we do. My grandma was worried sick.”
“Well, you look good,” said Adrian, inspecting the place where Ruby’s leg had been covered in bloodstones last time he’d seen her. Though she was wearing denim shorts, there was no longer any sign of her wounds. Not even bandages, for that matter. “Being covered in vicious rock formations is cool and all, but I prefer you without.”
“Aw, you’re making me blush,” said Ruby, though one look at her freckled cheeks proved that he definitely wasn’t.
Danna, on the other hand, kept flinching when she moved, and he could detect a white bandage peeking out of her sleeve.
“I don’t want your pity,” said Danna before Adrian could say anything. “I’m actually becoming fond of the covered-in-bandages look. It’s like a fashion statement.”
“Is the statement that you’re a total badass?” asked Oscar.
“Do you even have to ask?” she said, grinning at him. “Anyway, the cuts were deep and not all of them were clean, but another couple of days and I’ll be fine. Besides, those injuries were nothing compared with the burns from the Sentinel.”
Adrian winced and immediately hoped that no one had noticed.
It occurred to him that the strangest thing about seeing his teammates right then wasn’t the fact that their severe wounds were nearly gone—the Renegades kept the best prodigy healers in the world on staff—but that they were all wearing civilian clothing. Even Oscar was in a vest and dress shirt, his sleeves cuffed at his forearms.
Together they seemed almost … normal. It was actually kind of nice, for a change.
“Oh! Before I forget…” Ruby pulled a handful of cards from a pocket. “You’re all invited.”
Adrian took the card from her and flipped it over. It was an announcement for the annual Sidekick Olympics happening that weekend at City Park.
“Sidekick Olympics, awesome,” said Oscar. “I’ve been thinking the superhero gig has gotten to be too much pressure. A sidekick role sounds much more laid-back.”
“Too bad it’s a non-prodigy competition,” said Ruby. “My brothers are competing in it. They’ve always be
en a little jealous that I’m this totally cool and semi-famous superhero and everything. I mean, proud, but still jealous.”
“Hold on. You’re a superhero?” said Oscar, feigning shock. Then he leaned against her shoulder, batting his eyelashes. “Did you know, I’ve always wanted to be rescued by a superhero?”
Ruby laughed and shoved him away, even as her cheeks reddened. “You make a terrible damsel, Oscar.”
Danna rolled her eyes at them.
“Anyway, I’d get major big-sister points if you guys came,” Ruby finished. “And before you ask, yes, Oscar, there will be food trucks.”
Oscar made an approving okay with his fingers.
Adrian scanned the invitation. He’d never been to the Sidekick Olympics before—a series of lighthearted competitions for non-prodigy kids. It wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to spend his Saturday afternoon, but it could be fun.
“I have an invitation for Nova too,” said Ruby. “Has anyone seen her today?”
“Not yet.” Adrian checked the time on his wristband. There were still ten minutes before the meeting was supposed to begin. He glanced through the open doors, where he could see hundreds of Renegades milling about as they waited. “Maybe she went in already?”
“We checked,” said Danna. “No sign of her. But we should go sit down before it gets too crowded.”
“We’ll save her a seat,” said Ruby. “Does anyone know what they called us in for?”
“Do you think it could have to do with yesterday?” said Oscar.
“You mean about the Sentinel being dead?” Adrian asked.
Oscar cast him a strange look as they started heading toward the doors. “No. I mean about Hawthorn getting away with all those drugs.”
“Oh, right,” said Adrian, feeling sheepish for jumping to the Sentinel thing. “They would have started questioning her accomplices already. Maybe they learned something.”
“Guys!”
A spark flickered inside Adrian’s chest. Nova was jogging toward them, her cheeks flushed.
“Oh, good,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I only saw the message an hour ago. I had to run all the way from Wallow—uh—past Wallowridge. I thought for sure I’d be late.” She drew up short as Ruby thrust the invitation beneath her nose. “What’s this?”
“My brothers are competing in the Sidekick Olympics.”
Nova made a face—instinctive, Adrian knew. But before she could say anything, Oscar piped up, “Don’t fret. We’ve been guaranteed food trucks.”
Her aversion was immediately replaced with an amused smile. “Well, in that case…”
She met Adrian’s gaze, and for the briefest of moments all he could think about was how her blue eyes were brighter than usual, from the morning air or the exercise or maybe there was just really good lighting on this floor, and …
He really needed to stop thinking about it.
Gripping the card, Nova peered into the meeting room. “Do we know what’s going on?”
“No idea,” said Danna, waving her arm. “But we’d better get in there before all the good seats are taken.”
CHAPTER SIX
NOVA HAD NEVER been inside the main conference room at Renegade Headquarters. According to the others, it wasn’t used much. Oscar had once mentioned an annual meeting in which the Council liked to bore everyone to tears with statistics on their successes over the past twelve months, and lengthy discussions of their priorities for the future. When he told her this, Nova attempted to act sympathetic—how awful, how boring, how can anyone stand it? When in truth, she would have loved nothing more than to sit in on some of the Council’s upcoming plans for Gatlon City.
Danna led the way into the room, which consisted of a platform at the front facing hundreds of plastic chairs set into rows. The seats were filling up fast as Renegades poured in. Nova tried to eavesdrop on their huddled conversations, but it seemed the rest of the organization was as baffled as to the purpose of this meeting as her team was.
Though she’d been a Renegade for months now, Nova still found herself growing anxious when she was surrounded by so many superheroes at once. She calmed herself with practice observations—counting exits, determining what objects in the room would make decent weapons, estimating potential threats, and developing a mental escape route should anything happen.
Nothing ever happened, though. She was beginning to feel like all her preparation was unwarranted—the Renegades were as clueless to her true motives as they had been the day she entered the trials. But she couldn’t make herself relax. Any small slipup could reveal her identity. Any little clue could end this charade. An attack could come the moment she let down her guard.
It was exhausting to maintain her vigilance while still acting as though she belonged there, but she was getting used to being on edge. She couldn’t imagine being any other way, at least not inside headquarters.
“There are five seats together,” said Danna, pointing toward a row not far from the front. She moved to stake their claim.
“Nova McLain?”
Nova spun around. Evander Wade, one of the five Council members who was more generally known by his alias, Blacklight, sauntered through the crowd. “Do you have a second?”
“Um.” Nova glanced at Adrian, then at the platform at the front of the room. A microphone and a stool were waiting for a presenter, but the stage was empty. “I guess so.”
“I’ll save you a seat,” said Adrian, with the faintest, almost unnoticeable brush of fingers against her elbow, before he followed the rest of the group.
Almost unnoticeable.
Nova and her traitorous nerves, of course, noticed it keenly.
“I wanted to discuss the request you submitted a couple weeks ago,” said Evander, folding his arms over his chest. The stance was not so much defensive as it was a display of innate power. Nova had seen Evander Wade standing like this a number of times—feet planted into the floor, chest ever-so-slightly lifted. Unlike the rest of the Council, who could at least feign normalcy on occasion, Evander never seemed to be able to turn off his “superhero” self. The fact that he was currently dressed in his iconic uniform made the effect even more pronounced: all black Lycra formed to each muscle, white boots, white gloves, and a glow-in-the-dark emblem on his chest.
To Nova, it made him seem pompous and a little ridiculous, but the crowds of giggling girls who always followed after him at public events must have felt otherwise.
“My … request?” she said.
“About doing some part-time work in the artifacts department.”
“Oh! That. Right. Is it … still under consideration?”
“Well, I’m sorry it’s taken us this long to get back to you.” Evander tilted his head toward her as if they were in a conspiratorial conversation. “Been busy around here, you know?”
“Of course.”
“But … well, when can you start?”
Nova’s heart expanded. “Really? Uh—now! Or, whenever. As soon as you’d like me to.”
“Excellent.” Evander flashed a smile, his white teeth visible beneath a curled red mustache. “I’ve already talked to Snapshot about it. She heads up the department, and she’s excited to have you onboard. I think you two will get along well.”
Snapshot. Nova knew that alias. Simon Westwood, the Dread Warden himself, had mentioned the name to her when he’d told her that Ace’s helmet was not strictly available for public viewing, but … “Maybe if you made a really great bribe to the people in weapons and artifacts. I hear Snapshot is a sucker for sour gummies.”
Nova wasn’t sure if he’d been making a joke or not. What she did know was that Ace Anarchy’s helmet was somewhere in that department. Most of the world believed that Captain Chromium had destroyed it, a lie perpetuated by the Council themselves. They even kept a damaged replica in a display case outside their offices. But the real helmet was actually somewhere in this building and, presumably, this Snapshot knew how to access it.
&nbs
p; “Now, that does leave one conundrum,” said Evander.
“It does?”
“Honestly, it’s part of the reason we’ve hesitated for so long. There are some people”—he faked a cough and spluttered, “Tamaya,” then another cough—“who worry we’re putting too much on your plate.” He gestured toward the front of the room, where the other four Council members were chatting together beside the platform. It was startling to see them all dressed in their traditional superhero garb, down to the capes and the masks, which made Nova even more curious to know what this meeting was about. “You may not know that Tamaya’s been pushing us to start drafting labor laws for the city for … I don’t know, six years now? It’s not exactly a top priority with everything else, but we all have our passion projects. Anyway, we’re aware that you’re currently on a patrol unit and we want you to stay on patrols. Plus, you’ve been called on to do investigative work and data entry for incoming acquisitions, and that’s asking a lot of you. So you need to let us know if it starts to feel like too much. You want to take some time off, set some limits on your work hours, that sort of thing, you come talk to me … or go to Snapshot and she and I can discuss it. Just, please”—he lowered his voice—“for all the skies, don’t complain to Tamaya without talking to me first, because she is an adamant abuser of the phrase ‘told you so,’ and no one needs that, you know what I mean?”
Nova stared at him. “You really don’t have to worry about that. I’m so excited for this opportunity. Believe me, I want to be involved in … well, as much as you guys need me for. And I have so much free time on my hands, it feels good to be using it for something productive.” She grinned brightly, and it was made easier by the fact that she hadn’t had to tell a single lie. Given that she never slept, she did have a lot of free time on her hands, and having access to the artifacts department would be very productive indeed.
“Great to hear,” said Evander, slapping her on the back, hard enough to make her stumble in surprise. “Adrian really knew what he was doing when he picked you out at the trials. That boy has great intuition.” Stepping back, he pointed his fingers at her, like shooting pretend pistols. “You can report to artifacts tomorrow morning. I’ll let Snapshot know you’re coming.”
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