She turned away, newly energized.
All of Nova’s previous attempts to learn more had been met with dead ends and unknowns, to the point where it made her want to attack something with a crowbar. She was supposed to be a spy. She was supposed to be the Anarchists’ secret weapon. Now, she could get close to Ace’s helmet and start making a plan for how she was going to get it back.
Most of the crowd had found seats by the time Nova made her way toward her team.
“What did Blacklight want?” Adrian whispered as she sat down between him and Danna.
“He wanted to know if I’m still interested in doing extra work in the artifacts department,” she said. “I start tomorrow.”
Adrian looked surprised and, she thought, a little disheartened. “Artifacts? But … what about…”
“I’ll still be doing patrols. Remember, I have a lot more hours in my day than you guys have.”
Adrian nodded, but she could still see a shadow of concern behind his glasses. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Just because she never slept didn’t mean she shouldn’t occasionally rest. It was an argument she heard a lot. But people who needed sleep and rest couldn’t possibly understand how lack of action only made her irritable. She needed movement, work, momentum. She needed to keep busy during those long hours when the rest of the world was sleeping in order to drive away the anxieties that were always encroaching on her. The constant worry that she wasn’t doing enough.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I want to do this.” Remembering the faint way Adrian had touched her elbow, Nova braced herself and went to place a hand on his knee. But in the space between her brain telling her it was a good idea, and her hand actually making the move, it turned into an uncomfortable balling of her fist that knocked clumsily against the side of Adrian’s thigh, before immediately withdrawing into her own lap.
Adrian stared down at his leg, brow furrowed.
Nova cleared her throat and wished that she’d been gifted with the power to stop blushing at will, rather than eternal sleeplessness.
A hand thumped against a microphone, reverberating through the speakers. The five Council members had taken the stage: Evander Wade, Kasumi Hasegawa, Tamaya Rae, Simon Westwood, and Hugh Everhart.
Hugh stood at the microphone. Though the Council pretended they didn’t have a hierarchy among themselves, most people felt that Hugh Everhart—the invincible Captain Chromium—was the figurehead of the organization. He was the one who had defeated Ace Anarchy. He was the one who had rallied countless prodigies to their side and fought against the villain gangs who had taken control of the city.
He was also, of the entire Council, the one who Nova felt deserved her wrath the most. If anyone should have rescued her family when they were killed more than a decade ago, it should have been Captain Chromium.
But he hadn’t stopped the murders from happening. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most.
Nova would never forgive him for that. She would never forgive any of them.
“Thank you all for coming today on such short notice,” said Hugh. His Captain Chromium uniform was comprised of skintight fabric that made it seem like even his neck muscles had been lifting weights. The classic costumes were generally reserved for special occasions—big celebrations or big announcements. It suggested that today, the Council were not only the leaders of this organization. They were the superheroes who protected the world.
And, in doing so, controlled the world.
“We hadn’t intended to conduct this meeting for another couple of weeks,” Hugh continued, “but due to recent events, the Council has agreed that immediate action must be taken. As I’m sure you’re aware, the Renegade organization has come under recent scrutiny, beginning most notably with the Puppeteer’s attack on our parade, and more recently, the Detonator’s bombing of Cosmopolis Park.”
Nova traded a glance with Adrian, but as soon as their eyes connected they both shifted away.
“Add to this the rising crime rates and the growing black-market trade for weaponry and drugs, and we understand why the public has been demanding a response from us. They want to know how we plan to protect and defend our citizens in the face of so many threats. The Council is doing everything we can to ensure the people that their safety is our utmost priority, and that we require their continued support and cooperation in order to serve them. On that note, I must remind you all that it is of utmost importance that all prodigies who carry the Renegade banner uphold the Gatlon code authority, both on and off duty. The pursuit of justice is integral to our reputation, but the safety of civilians must always be our top priority. On that note, I want to briefly address the rise we’ve been seeing in vigilantism.”
Adrian started to cough sporadically. He ducked his head, burying his mouth in his elbow.
Nova pat his back and he winced. “I’m okay,” he muttered. “Just … inhaled wrong.”
“We want to see justice served,” Hugh continued, “but it is a thin line we walk between justice and revenge. The code is in place so that we can always know what side of the divide we must adhere to. It’s selfish to risk the lives of innocent people in order to serve our own agendas. It’s thoughtless to put civilians at risk so we might achieve glory. That might be the course of villains of the past, or vigilantes like the one who recently called himself the Sentinel. But that is not who we are.”
Adrian sank lower into his seat. Nova remembered him once talking about the code, and how the rules set forth by the Council could be hypocritical when, during the Age of Anarchy, they themselves had had no problem endangering innocent lives, so long as they caught their enemies in the end. Back then, the Renegades were notorious for causing catastrophic destruction or engaging in fights that led to plenty of innocent onlookers being wounded, but it hadn’t seemed to bother them at the time. They would have done anything to ensure their side was victorious.
Sometimes Nova felt like the Renegades of the past had more in common with the Anarchists than anyone dared to admit.
“But of course,” said Hugh, “there are times when a peaceful solution cannot be reached. There are times when a criminal must be stopped, as quickly and effectively as possible, to prevent them from causing even more devastation. And so long as stopping that criminal does not interfere with the safety of our citizens, then Renegades who embrace their duty must be celebrated and praised.” He took in a deep breath, and the furrow that had appeared between his eyebrows relaxed. “Which is why, today, we would like to take a moment to honor one of our own.” His eyes scanned the crowd. “Would Nova McLain, alias Insomnia, please stand?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
NOVA JOLTED IN HER SEAT, not sure she’d heard correctly.
Danna swatted her on the back, nearly pushing her out of the chair. The crowd was already applauding as Nova stood uncertainly in their midst. Even the Council was clapping. Captain Chromium was beaming at her with … pride?
Nova felt like she’d just stumbled into one of those bizarre anxiety dreams she’d heard people talk about. The ones where you were put on display in front of your worst enemies, only to discover you’d forgotten to put on pants that morning.
But she wasn’t asleep. This wasn’t a dream.
She blinked at Adrian, whose dark expression from before had disappeared. He was grinning—that open, heart-stopping smile that she absolutely loathed.
Oscar let out a whoop of pride, while Ruby wiggled both hands in the air.
Once the applause had settled, Hugh continued, “I am sure most of you have heard how Nova McLain subdued Ingrid Thompson, an Anarchist more commonly known as the Detonator, with a single, merciful shot to her head, during the altercation at Cosmopolis Park. Had she hesitated, or failed to strike her target, many more bombs would have exploded inside the carnival that day, and we estimate that hundreds of people would have been injured or killed. It is because of McLain’s bravery and quick thinking that this catastrophe wasn’t far worse. Insomnia, we are
proud to have you as a Renegade.”
Nova tried to look pleased while cheers started up around her again, but she thought it might have come off as more of a grimace. The look Hugh Everhart was giving her, she couldn’t help but notice, seemed borderline … fatherly.
He had no right to be proud of Nova or any of her accomplishments, when it was because of him that she didn’t have her own father to look at her that way.
We are proud to have you as a Renegade.
Her skin prickled.
She knew she should feel elated—she had earned the trust and respect of her enemies, just like she’d wanted to. Like Ace wanted her to. But in this case, their admiration wasn’t due to her cunning and duplicity. It was actually warranted. She had been a Renegade that day, hadn’t she?
The Detonator was an Anarchist. They had been on the same side. For a long time, Nova even would have called her a friend.
But in that moment, Nova had sided with the Renegades.
She hadn’t just betrayed Ingrid. She had killed her. She could call it self-defense, but there had been more than self-preservation in her mind when she’d pulled the trigger. She’d been afraid for the children and families at the carnival. She’d been furious with Ingrid for tricking her, again.
She’d been worried for Adrian.
Nova knew that sometimes sacrifices had to be made to force society down a different path. She knew thousands of people had died when Ace started his revolution. But Ingrid’s casualties wouldn’t have been sacrifices. Those would have been murders.
Nova couldn’t have stood by and done nothing.
In the weeks since, Nova had retraced her steps from that day a thousand times in her mind, trying to determine if there was something she could have done differently.
Except … she didn’t regret killing Ingrid.
She wasn’t proud of it. Her stomach curdled each time she recalled the squeeze of the trigger and how, for the first time in her life, she hadn’t hesitated. The words had been in her head, as they had been since she was a child, staring at the unconscious body of her family’s murderer.
Pull the trigger, Nova.
The next thing she knew, Ingrid’s head had snapped back and she was dead.
The most surprising thing was how easy it was. If that made her a Renegade, fine.
Because she believed it made her an Anarchist too.
The applause died down and Nova collapsed into her seat. Her cheeks were hot. Two aisles ahead, she caught sight of Genissa Clark and her minions: Mack Baxter, Raymond Stern, and Trevor Dunn. Or, as the world knew them, Frostbite, Aftershock, Stingray, and Gargoyle, whom Nova had had the great pleasure of defeating during the Renegade trials. All four of them were sneering at Nova, and Genissa didn’t hide her disgusted eye roll as she turned to face the front.
Danna must have seen it, too, because she made a face at Genissa’s back. “Jealous,” she whispered.
Nova smiled faintly in response. Genissa’s team was one of the Renegades’ most well-known patrol units and also the squad that Nova despised the most. Not only because they were cruel and arrogant, but also because they exemplified the corruption that came with handing a bunch of superheroes too much unrestrained power. So Genissa’s hostility hardly fazed Nova. If anything, she would have been more concerned if Frostbite actually liked her.
Oscar reached around Adrian and knocked his knuckle into Nova’s chin. “I remember when she was just a fledgling Renegade wannabe, getting challenged at the trials. And look at her now.”
Nova pulled away, but she couldn’t quite get her scowl right.
Onstage, Hugh Everhart cleared his throat. “One more order of business before we get to the reason why we requested you here today. As you know, there was a recent theft at Gatlon City Hospital, in which life-saving and expensive medications were taken. We’re doing everything we can to find the perpetrator and retrieve the stolen drugs, but in the meantime”—he gestured at Blacklight—“Evander has had the brilliant idea of including a fund-raiser portion to our annual gala next month, where we will be raising both money and awareness for the growing need for medications, especially as our pharmaceutical industry continues to flounder without proper funding. I know there’s a … a preconception among our civilians that prodigy healers will be enough to aid them should they require medical treatment, but … well, there simply aren’t enough of them to go around, and their abilities can be limited. We need to put more focus on our medical field. As such, we’ll be asking for memorabilia donations for a live auction in the coming weeks. Please mark your calendars if you haven’t already, as I hope to see strong support from our entire community.”
Nova frowned. If prodigy healers weren’t enough to cure the sick and injured patients at the hospital, why didn’t they just say that? Why didn’t they encourage more civilians to study medicine? Why were the Renegades so determined to act as if they really could save everyone, when they knew perfectly well they couldn’t?
“And now,” said the Captain, “it’s time to discuss the main reason we called this meeting today.” He gestured toward the Council. “Kasumi?”
Kasumi Hasegawa, or Tsunami, stepped onto the stage and took the microphone while Hugh disappeared through a nearby door.
Pulling a handful of index cards from the sleeve of her uniform, Kasumi said, “To expand on Captain Chromium’s introduction, the Detonator’s attack was a reminder that we cannot allow villains like Ingrid Thompson to remain in full possession of their abilities, without any regulation or preventative measures being taken to ensure these sorts of attacks don’t continue to happen. When prodigies abuse their powers, it is our duty to address the threat they pose—to innocent people, to us, and to themselves. As the Captain said, our citizens are demanding a response to such threats, and today, we will demonstrate for you precisely what that response is going to be. Please note, what we are revealing here today is confidential and to be kept exclusively among Renegades personnel until further notice.”
Nova perked up with interest. She had been following the media’s recent coverage and growing disillusionment with interest. For a decade, people had believed that superheroes would always come to the rescue when needed. Though Nova had long known this to be false, Ingrid’s stunt seemed to have opened other people’s eyes too. The Renegades wouldn’t always be there.
It was time that society realized they’d given all the power to the Renegades and were receiving only empty promises in return.
“We are assembling a press release that will make this information available to the media as soon as we feel it is safe to do so.” Tsunami turned over a card. Her cheeks had become flushed and it occurred to Nova that Kasumi Hasegawa wasn’t comfortable talking in front of large crowds.
How ironic. A superhero, an original Renegade, who must have faced off against guns and bombs and any number of criminals, to be afraid of something as mundane as public speaking.
“For years now,” Kasumi continued, “our talented team of lab researchers have been working on some exciting developments that will serve to assist us in our responsibility of keeping our city safe from prodigies who refuse to follow the code authority. We have developed a tool that is harmless to our non-prodigy population, and therefore puts no civilians at risk, while offering a safe and efficient way for us to neutralize prodigies who refuse to abide by our laws. We intend for this tool to become our most practical means of dealing with prodigy noncompliance. We call it … Agent N.”
Nova’s breathing quickened. She recalled Blacklight’s words at Cosmopolis Park, after the threat of Ingrid’s explosives had been subdued. “This is proof that not every prodigy deserves their powers. It’s because of villains like her that we need Agent N.”
This was it. Whatever Agent N was, they were revealing it here, now. Her heart thumped so hard against the inside of her rib cage it felt like it was trying to escape.
It wasn’t just a hypothetical, an experiment constrained to their laboratories.
It was real. Their so-called antidote. The weapon that Blacklight said would make the world a safer place.
But safer for who?
“To tell you more and to give a demonstration of this tool,” said Kasumi, gesturing to the side of the stage, “I invite Dr. Joanna Hogan to the stage.”
Obviously relieved that her part was over, Kasumi returned to her seat.
Dr. Joanna Hogan was older than anyone on the Council— somewhere in her fifties, Nova guessed—though she had a youthful prance to her step as she made her way to the microphone. Her lab coat, stark white and neatly pressed, was contrasted by a pixie haircut dyed bubble-gum pink.
“Good evening,” she said, “and thank you for that introduction, Tsunami. I am Dr. Joanna Hogan and I have been one of the leading researchers here at HQ since its inception. It is my pleasure to tell you about this new advancement, and I’m grateful for everything the Council has done to encourage our work.” She paused to take in a long breath. “Today, I will be telling you more about the product called Agent N and giving a demonstration of its abilities, so that you can see and understand its effectiveness firsthand. I know that some people will want to label Agent N as a weapon, but it is important to keep in mind that this is, at its core, a nonviolent solution to a problem that has been plaguing us for more than thirty years.” She opened her arms wide to indicate such an expanse of time, and a few people in the audience chuckled in uncertain agreement. “In addition to being nonviolent, Agent N is portable and its effects are almost instantaneous. It is completely safe to be used around non-prodigy civilians. I really think you’re all going to appreciate its real-world applications.”
Dr. Hogan reached for a briefcase that sat on top of a stool at the back of the stage. She undid the clasp and lifted the lid, holding it up for the audience to see. Everyone shifted in their seats, straining to get a better view. A few rows away, a Renegade called Optico popped out one of his removable eyeballs and held it up to get a better look.
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