Supernova, page 24
“None at all. I’m still not sure I understand how Nightmare managed to frame me like that, but the way I see it, you were as much a victim as I was. I just hope we can work together to bring her down, for real this time.”
Something flickered across Danna’s face, and though Nova couldn’t be sure, she thought it might be a hint of uncertainty. An ongoing question. Could she really have been wrong about Nova after all?
Whatever she saw there, it would be left uninterpreted, as Oscar thumped his cane on the tile floor. “Hear, hear to that! We are going to destroy Nightmare. But first…” He grinned at Ruby, and in unison they both shouted, “Pizza!”
“You have to come with us,” said Oscar. “It’s a celebratory yay-our-newest-recruit-isn’t-a-murderous-villain-after-all meal.”
Nova’s gut tightened at the insult. “Actually, I—”
“Don’t worry, Adrian will be there, too,” said Ruby, winking impishly as she took Nova’s elbow. “He was going to visit Max for a bit and then meet us there.”
At the mention of Max, Nova’s thoughts catapulted over themselves. Max. Max. She’d been so bewildered when she’d been released from the prison, so full of disbelief and so eager to find a way to ensure Ace’s freedom, too, that she’d completely forgotten about Max.
“How is he?” she said, refusing to budge when Ruby tried to lead her toward the exit. “Last I heard he was recovering, but—”
“Oh, you don’t know!” bubbled Ruby. “He’s out of the coma and doing great! In fact, Adrian had the brilliant idea to let him stay—”
“In the hospital,” Danna practically shouted, startling them all. “For a little while longer. To make sure he has a full recovery before they move him anywhere else.” She shot a glare at Ruby and Oscar, one that wasn’t particularly subtle.
“Um … okay…,” said Ruby, cocking her head at Danna.
“And they’re rebuilding the quarantine,” Danna added, jutting her thumb toward the busy construction zone at the far end of the lobby. “But they’re going to make it nicer, bigger … make sure he’s extra comfortable this time.”
Nova’s mouth went dry as she took in the glass walls that were waiting to be finished on the mezzanine. “I didn’t think they would rebuild the quarantine.”
“Yeah, well, Max is safer here,” Danna said. “You know. From all the people who would hurt him. Like Nightmare and the Anarchists.”
Oscar cleared his throat. “Yeah, so, there’s a basket of garlic bread sticks calling my name from three blocks away … Are we going?”
“You guys go ahead,” said Nova.
“Oh, Nova, no!” said Ruby. “You have to come! I’m sure they’ll give you the day off after what you’ve been through.”
“Next time, I promise,” Nova insisted. Extricating her arm from Ruby’s grip, she walked backward, waving good-bye. “Have fun. Tell Adrian I said hi.”
“He’s going to be devastated!” Oscar called after her. “If his heartbroken tears fall on my chicken pesto deluxe, I’m blaming you! I don’t like salty pizza!”
“Noted,” said Nova, offering him a salute.
Her three teammates sulked grumpily toward the main entrance. Nova started to turn around when she crashed into an unexpected wall. Or—a chest that felt like a wall.
She tilted her head back to be met with the rosy cheeks and pearly smile of Captain Chromium.
“Oops, sorry, Nova.”
“Uh … hi,” she stammered, not sure what she should call him. Captain Chromium or just Captain? Adrian’s dad? Mr. Everhart?
She was saved from making a decision when Hugh clasped her right hand and gave it a solid handshake. “I asked Sampson to let me know when you came in. I wanted to be one of the first to welcome you back to the team.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“And,” he said, releasing both her hand and the dazzling grin. His brow creased with regret. “I wanted to offer you a formal apology for this abysmal misunderstanding. I’m ashamed to think how we treated you, as one of our own, when your loyalty and dedication has been so unwavering. It’s just…” He shook his head. “All this turmoil that’s been going on lately, you know? The parade, Cosmopolis Park, the attack on headquarters, Ace Anarchy … sometimes I feel like we’re jumping through hoops set on fire, and every one of them is a little bit smaller. If we don’t keep ahead of all the threats and dangers, then one of these days, the whole thing will go up in flames.”
Nova narrowed her eyes, not entirely sure this was a good analogy, and also wondering whether the Captain was aware of the insensitivity of the statement, given what had become of the house on Wallowridge.
But no—she could tell he was oblivious.
And so she chuckled understandingly. “Well, good thing you’re invincible, at least.”
“Yeah,” he said, with a small shrug. “I might be, but there are people I care about that don’t have that luxury, and I’m just doing what I can to protect them. I hope you understand that we did what we had to do, given the circumstances.”
The circumstances, she thought. Those circumstances being that they had been prepared to execute her, without so much as a proper trial. Because they were the Council, and their word was law. Because they were Renegades, and the Renegades could be judge, jury, and executioner, if that’s what they felt was required for the protection of the people. The normal people. Not villains. Not prodigies who could be dangerous. Protection of their rights didn’t matter.
But Nova didn’t say any of that. She just kept smiling, jaw clenched. “Of course.”
“Good. Because you are a part of the Renegade family now, and it’s important to me and all the Council that everyone here feels like they’re being treated fairly. That they are a part of this team.”
Suddenly, it became clear to Nova that this wasn’t just an apology.
Hugh Everhart was worried. Given the drama with Genissa Clark, which continued to shake their sterling reputation, he was afraid that Nova, too, would go to the media and begin exposing the mistreatment within their ranks.
He was trying to head her off at the pass.
In that moment, Nova felt almost giddy to realize she had stolen another small piece of power away from the Council. They had built their organization on a shaky foundation, and she could put one more fatal crack into it.
Lucky for Captain Chromium and the Council, she wasn’t planning to go to the media with her story of unjust imprisonment. She had other plans for the future.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t use this conversation to her advantage. What if she could make the change she needed right here, right now?
“I don’t blame you and the Council for what happened,” she said. “You were given information and you had to act on it. I understand why you did what you did.”
Before Hugh Everhart could appear too relieved, Nova added, “But I was surprised by the whole execution thing.”
His gaze darted away. “Yes … it’s unfortunate that we … Well, I hate to think what you went through. But I am so glad it’s all worked out.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “it worked out for me, thankfully. But I have to admit that I’d always wanted to believe the Renegades were, well, above capital punishment. To end someone’s life, giving them no possible chance for restitution, and to do it without even offering a fair trial, it seems—how do I say this?—a little villainous.”
To her surprise, the Captain chuckled, as if the idea of the Council doing something even remotely villainous was too absurd to consider. “To be fair, we did believe you were Nightmare, and Nightmare did try to kill me.”
She bristled. “I’m aware of that, but … don’t you think she would at least deserve another chance?”
His eyebrows shot up.
Realizing that she was edging too close to an unspoken hope, she immediately withdrew. “Or, maybe not Nightmare, specifically. But think about it. I was in that prison—wrongfully, yes—but it still gave me time to think about my life and my choices, and to decide that, if I ever got out of there, I would do things differently. The Renegades have to be willing to look beyond the mistakes of the past and understand that people can change. And I’m not just talking about the execution, either. I know you’ll never forgive Ace Anarchy for what he did, and maybe you’ll never forgive Nightmare, either, but there are dozens of prodigies on that island, some who have been there for more than a decade. And yet—we have no systems in place to see if they really are as dangerous as we think they are. To see if they deserve the punishment they’re receiving. Maybe some of them want to become useful citizens in this world; maybe some of them deserve that. But you want to strip their powers from them, without even giving them a chance to explain why they did the things they did or how they’ve changed in the years since. Many of them are still being persecuted for crimes they committed in the Age of Anarchy … I mean, didn’t you do anything during that time that you’re not proud of?”
Though the Captain seemed confused by most of her speech, at this, an understanding dawned on his features. “We did what we had to do to stop the villain gangs, to bring order and peace. We would do it again if we had to.”
“Even if that meant doing things that you wouldn’t allow today as part of the Code Authority?”
His lips pinched, and she knew he couldn’t deny it.
“Maybe some of those prisoners did things that were … justified, in some way. Maybe they stole things because there were no jobs back then. Maybe they fought against authority because authority abused and ostracized people like them. Maybe they would choose differently now, if we only gave them a chance.”
“Nova…,” he began, and before another word was uttered, Nova felt her frustration rise, knowing what he was going to say. “I can tell you’re passionate about this, but … you have to understand that the people in that prison aren’t like you. You were innocent. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. While they are criminals and villains, practically savages some of them.”
“How do you know? How many of them have you talked to recently? Or for that matter, how many of them ever received a fair trial?”
He sighed and glanced around. Nova realized that, standing not far from the elevator bank, they’d begun to draw a crowd. Renegades loitering nearby, pretending to be engrossed in the daily newspaper or something on their wristbands.
“What are you suggesting?” he said, his voice lowered. “That we postpone the Agent N reveal until we can … what, interview them? Or should we devote our resources to gathering evidence from ten years ago, all so we can prove what we already know? They are villains.”
“I’m not a villain,” Nova said, almost believing it herself. “But that wasn’t going to stop you from executing me.”
Hugh flinched.
“And no,” she continued, “I’m not suggesting you postpone the reveal for a while, I’m suggesting you postpone it indefinitely. In fact, I think you should destroy Agent N.”
He took a surprised step back.
“All of it,” she said more forcefully. “Along with any possibility that it could ever be re-created.”
Hugh’s astonishment faded into understanding. “If this is about what happened to Frostbite and her team, it’s important for everyone to know that we are working to ensure the safety of all Renegades—”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” said Nova. “This isn’t about the patrol units or figuring out how to defend ourselves more efficiently or any of that. The world doesn’t revolve around the Renegades!” She spread her fingers wide, surprised at how important this suddenly seemed. She hadn’t come to headquarters expecting to have this conversation, but these thoughts had been tumbling and growing inside her mind from the moment Agent N had first been shown to her. From the moment she’d watched it change Winston Pratt forever. From the moment the implications of such a weapon had become clear. “Isn’t it our responsibility to bridge the gaps between people? To recognize that we all have to live in this world together? We need to start seeing other prodigies not as villains, but as … well, as other human beings, who maybe aren’t so different from us after all. I want to believe that we can close this divide between us, but … Agent N isn’t the answer.”
Hugh was silent for a long time. Longer than Nova had ever heard him be silent, she realized as she tried to read his inscrutable thoughts.
“I know this is coming from a place of good intentions,” he finally said, his voice having taken on a new edge. “I don’t expect you to understand the challenges facing our world or the difficult decisions we’ve had to make, but I can assure you that none of our decisions have been made lightly.”
“I know that, but—”
“Everything the Council has done these past years has been in service to the people of this world who need our help, for protection and for justice. I’m afraid this isn’t up for debate, Nova. Our decision regarding Agent N, and the fate of those villains, has already been decided. And our decision is final.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
NORMALLY, IT WAS easy for Nova to shake off the disappointment she so often felt in the Renegades and the Council. They had disappointed her so many times, beginning when she was just six years old, a child full of conviction that the Renegades would come. A child who had been wrong.
It shouldn’t have been any different this time. She and the Renegades would never share the same principles. Her faith in the Council would never be restored.
She felt foolish to have thought, even for a moment, that things could be different.
She felt extra foolish for the sting of rejection that followed her into the elevator and up to the artifacts warehouse. She didn’t have time to dwell on Captain Chromium’s decision, even if she knew he was wrong. She shouldn’t have let herself care so much.
If anyone was going to help the prodigies of this world—the prodigies who didn’t fit into a perfect mold of what a superhero should be—it wasn’t going to be the Renegade Council.
She stepped out of the elevators into a reception space that was unchanged since she’d been gone—two desks, one messy, one stark. A clipboard with a form for tracking equipment rentals from the vault.
Trying to clear her thoughts, she sat down and searched the database for the Hollow Glass. According to the records, it had not been rented out to a Renegade in years, and was currently available in the vault.
She hoped it was a good sign.
Changing the parameters, she searched for star next. Then jewel, gem, and bracelet. Each term called up a substantial list of possibilities, but judging from the descriptions, none of them were her bracelet.
She wasn’t particularly surprised, but frustrated all the same.
After a moment’s consideration, she closed the artifacts database and instead pulled up the Renegade directory. Magpie was easy to find.
Margaret White. Alias: Magpie. Ability: Asset perception, subcategory: telekinesis.
“Asset perception,” Nova muttered. She guessed that was Renegade speak for “someone who can locate valuable things,” which seemed to be the gist of Magpie’s ability, as far as she could tell.
She jumped to the residence information and frowned.
Current residence: Unknown
Previous residence: Gatlon City Prodigy Children’s Home
She was familiar enough with the institution, which was supposed to be an orphanage, though had also become a dumping ground for kids abandoned by families who wanted nothing to do with their superpowered offspring.
An addendum at the bottom of her profile went on to list a series of petty crimes—mostly small thefts and pickpocketing—for which Magpie had repeatedly received no punishment, it seemed, beyond a stern talking-to.
None of it was at all helpful in getting Nova her bracelet back.
She was scowling at the screen, drumming her fingers against her cheek, when the elevator chimed and Callum arrived. Already smiling, because he was always smiling. And in the second that passed before he noticed her, Nova braced herself to see that smile fall. She knew he had suspected that she was Nightmare after he had tried to stop her from stealing the helmet. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he, like Danna, maintained that air of suspicion. And for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Callum’s opinion of her meant—well, a lot. Maybe because he was the sort of person who was always willing to give the benefit of the doubt. He saw the good in everyone, regardless of whether they deserved it.
She wanted him to see the good in her.
Spotting her, Callum froze, one foot still in the elevator.
Nova, too, went still.
Then—
“Insomnia! You’re back!” He bolted forward and swung himself around the end of the desk. Before Nova fully realized what was happening, he had pulled her out of the rolling chair and enveloped her in a strangling embrace, one that she might have thought was an attack if she hadn’t known Callum so well.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” he said, pulling away. “I mean, I did believe it, because—did you know you and Nightmare are almost exactly the same height?” He placed one hand about head level with Nova. “Uncanny, but not a reason to assume the worst of someone. I’m sorry. But in my defense”—he gave her a mischievous look—“a part of me thought it would actually be kind of cool to be working side by side with an Anarchist. I mean—the difference in perspective, right? What are the odds of that, really? Anyway. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve come to think of you as, like, my artifacts-obsessed kindred spirit.”
She laughed. Not only in relief that Callum didn’t despise her, but also at the idea that she was as obsessed over the objects in the vault as he was. She was relatively sure that no one could be as obsessed as he was. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m ready to get back to work and put all this behind me.”
“Great plan!” He clapped his hands. “Let’s return to our previously scheduled awesome lives.” He grabbed a clipboard from the desk. “It’s been slow around here, what with everyone focusing on rebuilding the lobby and the upcoming Agent N announcement. Do you want to take the desk for a bit, or would you rather handle the restocking? It’s not much … just seven or eight items, if I remember right.”
