Supernova, page 13
“All right, patrols,” yelled Blacklight, strolling through the scattered groups in his signature black leather jacket and skintight pants. He was carrying a large plastic crate. “Gather ’round, gather ’round. I know it’s been an eventful twenty-four hours, but we do have important business to tend to before I release you all to further your gossip. As you know, our public reveal of Agent N is in less than four weeks. It’s to take place at the arena, and media from all over the world will be in attendance. We need to be fully prepared for all patrols to be equipped with the serum before then. As the recent attack on headquarters has understandably left a few of us on edge, we are going to be implementing some new precautions to ensure that Agent N cannot be used against our own.”
“Precautions?” said the Wrecking Ball, fisting her hands on her hips. “Like maybe destroying all of the remaining Agent N and never bringing it up again?”
Blacklight cast her a withering look. “Har-har. Nothing so drastic as that. Now, I understand your concerns—we all do, and we were all devastated to lose Frostbite and her team. But this weapon has been an important investment for us, and it remains our best hope at eliminating villains and dangerous prodigies from our city. We were unprepared for an enemy to have access to Agent N, it’s true, but we will not be making the same mistake again.”
“Investment,” scoffed another Renegade, Coyote. “I’m beginning to think Genissa is right—that’s all the Council cares about. Their investments.”
Adrian frowned at the back of Coyote’s head. Though the words had been muffled under his breath, it was clear he’d intended them to be heard. Adrian disagreed, though. The Council cared about them, each of them, and all of the citizens of their city. But at the same time, he wondered if the Council’s eagerness was blinding them to the risks of pushing forward with Agent N. With all the attacks from the media and the public’s mounting doubts about the Renegades’ ability to keep them safe, they were desperate to make it appear that they were still in control.
But at what cost? Did they really believe they could keep their own Renegades safe from Agent N after what had happened to Frostbite’s team?
Blacklight set the crate on a table and pulled out a bulky gas mask. “Our friends in tech have made modifications to these masks, and after a series of tests, we can confirm that they will protect a prodigy from Agent N in gas form, which, as you know, was one of the methods Nightmare used to neutralize Frostbite and the others. Effective immediately, all patrol units will be equipped with a gas mask during active duty.”
He started tossing the masks into the crowd. The patrols caught them, almost unwillingly. There was distaste written on their faces as they inspected the cumbersome masks.
Blacklight tossed one to Adrian and he quickly understood his peers’ irritation. The band meant to wrap around his head was stretchy rubber and the bulbous filter over the mouth was heavy and hideous.
“We’re expected to wear these during patrols?” said Shot Blast.
“Only if you feel you’re in danger from an enemy who could have access to Agent N.”
Ruby raised her hand. “How are we supposed to know who may or may not have access to Agent N? Who knows who Nov—Nightmare could have given those bombs to?”
“Currently,” said Blacklight, “we have no reason to suspect that any villains other than Nightmare’s own affiliation—the Anarchists—have Agent N.”
“Okay, but what about poisoned darts?” asked Zodiac. “That’s the method we were going to be using to neutralize our enemies, so how do we know the Anarchists will even keep using Agent N in gas form? How are we supposed to keep ourselves from getting shot with the stuff? Our uniforms aren’t going to protect us.” She pulled at the stretchy skintight sleeve to emphasize her point.
“That is a concern,” said Blacklight, and Adrian could tell he was growing weary of their questions, even if they were valid. “We are discussing the development of full-body armored suits that will replace your current uniforms in the future.”
“Armored suits?” said Coyote with a bark. “Like the Sentinel?”
“Not … exactly,” said Blacklight, with an extra edge to his voice. Adrian had the sense that the uniforms they were plotting were exactly like the one worn by his alter ego.
Oscar elbowed Adrian in the side, smirking with pride. Adrian glared at him.
“How long before those suits are available?” asked Mondo-Man. “Something tells me it won’t be before the public reveal.”
“And how am I supposed to use my powers if I’m trapped inside a bunch of armor?” added Chameleon.
“I remember that doctor saying Agent N could be ingested, too. What if the villains start poisoning our food with it?”
A barrage of questions started pouring out from all sides of the room. Blacklight’s cheeks flushed nearly as red as his beard as he held up his hands, trying to fend them off.
A streak of lightning shot across the high ceiling, crashing into an overhead light. It burst with the impact, cascading sparks, at the same moment a roar of thunder shook the floor beneath them. It was so loud it knocked Adrian back a few steps, leaving him feeling like a giant drum had just been banged inside his skull.
“Enough!”
As silence filled the space left by the thunder, they all looked up to see Thunderbird on the catwalk, her face taut with anger. “None of you have the authority to question the Council’s decisions in such a disrespectful manner.”
Adrian gulped, unable to recall ever seeing Tamaya Rae so livid. And all because a group of Renegades had dared question the Council? Surely they were allowed to do that, right?
Blacklight cleared his throat. “I had this under control. For the record.”
“We have more pressing matters to deal with,” snapped Thunderbird. “There is a situation in the main lobby. Your presence is requested, immediately.” Jaw still tense, she scanned the patrol units. “You are all dismissed.”
Without waiting for a response, she swept back down the catwalk, her wings brushing against the railings to either side.
“Right,” said Blacklight. “To be continued.” Leaving the near-empty crate behind, he rushed after Thunderbird, bounding toward the elevators with as much dignity as he could hold on to.
The patrol units left behind passed mystified glances at one another for a minute, before rushing after the Council members. With a shrug to his teammates, Adrian followed.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE LOBBY WAS still under reconstruction and currently full of broken slabs of stone and caution tape and, it appeared, every on-duty Renegade who was in the building. They had formed a circle around the shattered tile floor, where a long gash could still be seen stretching from the red R in the lobby’s center to where the quarantine had crashed down from the mezzanine.
The pile of glass and rubble had been cleared away, and steel beams framing the balcony had been put back in place. On the second floor, tucked back from the edge of the walkway, stood a framework of steel spires, like an incomplete birdcage. Beside them, enormous curved glass panels were leaned up against the laboratory walls.
Adrian grimaced to see them there, to imagine what they would become. The thought of putting Max back into that glass prison disgusted him, but he hadn’t been able to talk to his dads about it again since Max had woken up.
Raised voices drew his attention back to the crowd—including the sound of Captain Chromium’s voice, sounding tense, though Adrian couldn’t make out his words.
Danna’s swarm fluttered up to watch the proceedings from the upper level, while Oscar and Ruby climbed up onto the curved information desk in order to see above the heads of the crowd. Adrian leaped up beside them.
Standing near the tiled R was the Council—all five of them, hands fisted on hips or crossed over chests. A dozen paces in front of them, backlit from the massive windows at the front of the building, stood Genissa Clark, Trevor Dunn, and Mack Baxter, previously known as Frostbite, Gargoyle, and Aftershock.
Stingray stood beside them, too, his barbed tail twitching back and forth on the floor.
“What’s going on?” Adrian asked.
A nearby prodigy shushed him, but Pyrotechnic, on his other side, whispered, “Clark thinks the Council owes her.”
“—absolutely ridiculous,” said Blacklight, his voice loud enough to carry over the crowd, drawing Adrian’s attention back to the Council. “Of course they can’t come back on patrols. They aren’t prodigies anymore!”
The Dread Warden shot an annoyed glower at Blacklight, but it went ignored as Blacklight waved his arm toward Genissa and the group. “Well, they can’t! It’s absurd to even consider it!” He took a step forward. “Sorry to say it, but you’re acting like a spoiled princess, Miss Clark. Besides, you’re the one who said you were done being a superhero. No one here forced you to quit, but we all know it was the right decision. So why don’t you go home and start figuring out a more productive use of your time? We have better things to be dealing with.”
Captain Chromium settled a hand on Blacklight’s shoulder and pulled him back. He muttered something, but it was too quiet for Adrian to hear.
He had no problem, however, hearing Genissa Clark, who seemed thrilled to have an audience. “I’ve had a change of heart. And now that we’re back, you’re just going to sweep us under a rug, pretend like we don’t even exist? Like we didn’t sacrifice our powers in service to this organization. You can’t pretend that what happened to us isn’t your fault!”
“We’re superheroes!” bellowed Blacklight. “What did you expect, that we’d all sit around having tea parties all day?”
“That’s enough, Evander,” Thunderbird growled.
Huffing, Blacklight crossed his arms, muttering, “Ridiculous.”
“We demand retribution for what’s happened to us,” said Genissa, who had placed herself at the front of her group. She appeared relatively unchanged on the outside—the same flaxen hair, the same cool blue eyes, though her skin did seem to have a mild flush to it that had always been missing before. The coldness of her glare, though, was exactly the same as it had always been. “We joined the Renegades as prodigies, with abilities that belonged to us. But thanks to your carelessness in developing Agent N, and your failure to keep it from our enemies, we’re the ones suffering. There is no replacing our lost abilities, but we expect retribution. You owe us!”
“Perhaps we could go somewhere private to discuss this?” said Tsunami, gesturing toward the elevators. “Our offices are—”
“We’re fine here,” interrupted Genissa. “My peers need to hear what you have to say. After all, any one of them could be next.”
“Genissa, we are sorry for what happened to you,” said the Dread Warden, “in no small part because we hate to lose you and your team. You were one of our strongest units. But you chose to be a Renegade. You chose the risks that come with this life.”
“Actually,” said Genissa, smugly settling her hands on her hips, “when we first joined the Renegades, this risk didn’t exist. Criminals, fine. Villains, no problem. But Agent N exists because you created it. How could we possibly have chosen that?”
“Besides,” said Trevor Dunn, whose flesh had once fluctuated between compounds of stone but now was covered in patches of pink, flaking skin, “I never signed a contract, signing away my life and powers in service of the Renegades. How about you all? You sign anything?” He gestured around the room, and was met with a lot of uncomfortable frowns.
“Of course not,” said Genissa. “A contract would suggest that, if things don’t go well, we might actually be entitled to some sort of compensation for the trauma and suffering. But oh no. We’re expected to fight for the Renegades, to defend the people of this city, to constantly throw ourselves into dangerous situations all in the name of heroism. And we are heroes. Sworn to protect the weak and defend justice. But who is going to defend us? I wouldn’t count on it to be them.” She gestured at the Council. “As soon as they don’t need us, they toss us aside, and I’m not going to stand for it.” She lifted her arms. “And none of you should, either. The Renegades are nothing without us. We are the heart and muscle of this organization, and they need us, more than we need them. I want the Council to recognize that we aren’t disposable trash. We’re Renegades! You can’t take that away from us, too!”
“Look, Genissa,” began the Captain, “we want to treat everyone justly, especially our own. But you can’t rejoin the force as patrol units. It wouldn’t be safe! I’m sure we can find some other role in the organization that will satisfy you. We don’t exactly have procedures in place for this sort of thing. And I’m sorry, but it’s not a top priority right now.”
“Perhaps it should become one,” said Genissa. “And I suggest it becomes a priority fast, because I have my schedule booked full of media interviews this week, and I can either tell them how well the Renegades take care of their own … or I can tell them the truth. And with all the effort you’ve put into this big upcoming reveal of Agent N, well, it would be terrible if the secret got leaked early … wouldn’t it?”
“Great skies,” muttered Blacklight. “You know what—fine! Let’s just let them back on the team! Let them get themselves killed if that’s what they want!” He shook his head. “Non-prodigy superheroes. You can’t possibly—”
“We’re not—” the Captain growled under his breath, but he seemed relatively calm as he fixed his attention on Genissa. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to continue risking your lives when you don’t have superpowers to defend yourselves with. I’m sorry.” He spread his fingers wide. “What else can we offer you?”
This, to Adrian’s surprise, seemed to be the magic question. Genissa cast a victorious grin at her teammates.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “there is one thing that might satisfy our need for … well, if not retribution exactly, then at least a bit of retaliation.”
The Council shared identical, suspicious scowls, but Genissa pushed on. “There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”
Captain Chromium narrowed his eyes. “That’s true. For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”
“Why stop there?” said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.” She lifted her chin, blue eyes glinting. “Nightmare deserves the same fate. Nightmare must die—and I want to be the one to do it.”
The words seemed to be sucked into a vacuum. Adrian felt like the ground had sunk beneath him. Like the world narrowed to a pinprick.
Nightmare must die.
He was sure his dads would scoff at the suggestion, but their faces were stoic and unreadable.
It was Blacklight who spoke first. With a quiet chuckle, he said, “Is that all it will take to quit their complaining? Works for me.”
Simon shot him a look. “These are lives we’re discussing.”
“Villains’ lives,” said Blacklight. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”
“Think about it,” said Genissa. “The people are losing faith in you quickly. Every day we hear people asking if the Renegades are really capable of protecting them, of serving the growing needs of this city. As the Council, you need to show a united front. You can’t tolerate any prodigies who refuse to act by the code. And you certainly don’t want ex-Renegades like us”—she gestured at Mack and Trevor—“going around telling everyone how weak you really are when it comes to true threats, like Nightmare and the Anarchists.”
Adrian’s vision clouded, darkening at the edges until all he could see was Genissa Clark’s infuriating grin. She was already relishing the idea that she could be the one to end Nightmare’s life. She wanted vengeance for her lost powers.
But the Council wouldn’t allow that … would they?
A hand gripped his elbow—Ruby’s, offering support. It snapped Adrian from his thoughts.
It wasn’t Nova. It was Nightmare. It was a villain.
But still—death? Without a trial? Without any hope for redemption?
“Captain,” said Tsunami, “I am not sure this is a wise course of action. The Council needs to discuss—”
“Oh, wow, I hate to interrupt,” said Genissa, checking an invisible watch, “but we have to get going! Wouldn’t want to miss our interview with the evening news, would we?”
She spun on her heel, but had barely moved before Captain Chromium called out, “We accept.”
“No,” Adrian whispered, shaking his head. Ruby’s hand squeezed tighter around his arm. “They can’t let her…”
He trailed off as, in the center of the lobby, Genissa Clark pivoted back to the Council with a wicked smirk. “Come again?”
“A double execution will take place at the reveal,” said the Captain, his fists clenched as he spoke. “You, Frostbite, may see to the death of Nightmare, who has been our longtime enemy, and a persistent threat to the Renegades and the civilians we have sworn to protect. This execution will be enacted as punishment for her crimes against society and our own.”
“Well,” said Genissa, flourishing a mocking bow at the Council, “thank you for being so understanding. We’ll give your offer due consideration and get back to you.”
With a wink, Genissa and her team paraded toward the revolving doors, pushing their way back to the street, where they were immediately swarmed by reporters who had been camped out on the sidewalk ever since the helmet had been stolen.
“Back to work, all of you!” the Captain barked, his voice uncharacteristically irate. The crowd immediately jumped into action, though Adrian doubted many were going to “work.” Already he could see the crowd dividing into groups, flocking toward the lounges and training halls to discuss what had just happened.
“Adrian?” said Oscar, poking Adrian’s foot with the bottom of his cane. “You all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said.
