Supernova, page 28
Adrian glanced at Danna in time to see her roll her eyes. “Is this something you were thinking of trying out today?”
“Yeah, maybe,” said Oscar, rubbing his hands together. “I’d make the heart a lot bigger, put it somewhere over by the megascreen so everyone can see it. I did check with the Council to see if I could put a message up on the screen before the whole Agent N thing goes down, but they denied the request. Thunderbird—not a romantic.”
“Oscar,” said Adrian. “They’re going to drain the powers of some of society’s most dangerous villains and then execute someone.”
Oscar studied him, expressionless, for a long moment. “So you think it might be in bad taste?”
“Just a little.”
“Told you so,” said Danna.
Glowering, Oscar sank down into the plastic seat. “Do you have any idea how hard it’s been finding the right time to make a dramatic proclamation? It’s like someone’s always getting arrested or un-arrested or we’re apprehending a criminal or taking down a villain.… When is a guy supposed to make his move in the midst of all of that?”
“You could try not making a dramatic proclamation,” suggested Danna. “Just ask her out. It’s not that big of a deal.”
Oscar groaned. “Not a big deal? I’m trying to tell the girl of my dreams that she’s, you know … the girl of my dreams! That’s the biggest deal of my life!” He shook his head, his brow creased with anxiety. “And I’m worried I’ll screw it up.”
“What the heck, Adrian?” yelled Ruby, suddenly barreling down the stairs.
Oscar tensed and smacked Danna and Adrian with a hasty shush, as if they were preparing to give him away. Danna smacked and shushed him back.
“Hey, Ruby,” said Adrian, standing so she could get past him to her seat. “What’s up?”
“The concession stands are closed,” she said, gesturing toward the back of the arena. “Every last one of them. Who’s in charge of this shindig?”
“Proof that you two are made for each other,” muttered Danna.
Ruby glanced at her. “Huh?”
“Nothing,” said Danna, shaking her head. “This isn’t a sporting event. Let’s all show a bit of respect.”
Ruby huffed. “There is no occasion that doesn’t warrant the sale of stale popcorn and licorice ropes. It’s practically a basic human right.”
“Protest,” said Oscar, nodding stoically.
Flopping into her chair, Ruby crossed her arms. “Where’s Nova?”
Adrian winced, though he tried not to let it show. “I don’t think she’s coming.”
He tried to ignore Danna’s arched eyebrow. He knew she still harbored doubts about Nova’s innocence, and it was beginning to irk him. They had seen Nightmare, and it wasn’t Nova. Why couldn’t she accept that?
“Why not?” said Ruby, surprised.
He pushed up his glasses. “She’s always been against Agent N, and I think having spent some time at Cragmoor made her really against it. My dad told me she made a pretty passionate plea for them to call off the neutralization. She thinks the criminals should be given a chance at rehabilitation instead.”
“Imagine that,” said Danna.
Adrian shot her a look, which she ignored.
“I guess I can understand,” said Ruby, disappointed. “I’ve hardly seen Nova since she came back. I’m worried she might be mad at us.…”
“Don’t be,” said Adrian. “I think she’s just trying to work through a lot right now. You know, the explosion, Cragmoor, being reunited with her uncle … just give her some time.”
“Of course,” said Ruby, though she didn’t seem to find much comfort in Adrian’s words. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been telling himself the same thing lately. He would give Nova the space she needed. He would be patient. And when she needed him, he would be there for her.
But it was easier said than done. The truth was, he missed her. He missed her more now than he had even when she’d been in prison. At least, then, he’d been able to tell himself it was for the better.
“Oh, look, there’s Genissa,” said Oscar, pointing. “As cheerful as ever.”
Genissa Clark was on the field, an impressive crossbow strapped across her back. She was talking to Captain Chromium. Even from up in the stands, Adrian could tell that they were both frustrated with each other.
“Is that a cooler?” said Danna, indicating the box at Genissa’s feet.
“It is,” said Oscar. “Damn her. She probably thought to bring sandwiches.”
“I don’t think it’s sandwiches,” said Adrian. “I heard she was planning to execute Nightmare with an icicle, thinking it would have some sort of poetic justice. I bet she brought one with her.”
Ruby made a disgusted noise. “That would have been so…”
“Unnecessary. And messy,” said Oscar.
“And overdramatic,” added Danna.
“Would you prefer an old-fashioned hanging?” said Adrian, his insides churning to think of how narrowly Nova had evaded this fate. “Or burning at the stake, like they used to kill prodigies?”
“No,” said Ruby. “I would prefer … I don’t know. Isn’t there a way to put someone to sleep first so they don’t feel anything?”
Adrian peered down the line of his friends and knew they were all thinking the same thing. Putting people to sleep was Nightmare’s specialty, her attack of choice. Never before had it occurred to him that it could also be an act of mercy.
“How is your dad going to, you know…,” Oscar started, “do in Ace Anarchy?”
Adrian watched Hugh for a second, still arguing with Genissa. “I’m not sure what he has planned. But … I think right now Genissa is trying to be the one to do it. She’s been threatening them all week, ever since Nova was released, saying that she at least deserves some glory if she can’t have revenge. Otherwise, she’s still saying she’ll ruin the Renegades by going to the media with her laundry list of complaints.”
Danna grunted. “That girl has a strange sense of glory.”
“People have been talking, though,” said Oscar. “I’d never really thought of it before, but … it is strange, isn’t it? That no one has ever stopped to consider what might be best for us and not just the organization? I mean, we all chose this life. We’re willing to risk a lot for the cause. But…” He trailed off.
“But shouldn’t we have a little bit more say over what that cause is?” suggested Ruby. “And what, exactly, we’re risking?”
He sighed. “I hate to sound like I’m with Genissa, but it’s made me think.”
“You don’t just sound like Genissa,” said Danna, slightly teasing. “You almost sound like an Anarchist.”
Oscar wrinkled his nose. “Now, that’s just uncalled for.”
“I think they’re starting,” said Ruby, drawing their attention back down to the field. A long stage had been erected, stretching nearly the full length of the field, and seven chairs were set up in a line at its center beside a narrow podium. The media had been sent to the box at the forefront of the audience. Adrian wasn’t sure where Genissa had gone. As the Council approached their seats, the crowd began to quiet.
The Council—Captain Chromium, the Dread Warden, Tsunami, Blacklight, and Thunderbird—was joined by Dr. Hogan, one of the lead researchers and developers for Agent N. And …
Adrian leaned forward, squinting. They were just far enough away that he felt like his eyes must be playing tricks. “Is that the Puppeteer?”
“Sweet skies, I think it is,” murmured Ruby. “But … he looks so different.”
The last time Adrian had seen Winston Pratt, his skin had been ghastly pale, almost as pale as when permanent makeup had been painted on his face, complete with rosy cheeks and black lines on his jaw reminiscent of a ventriloquist dummy. Those physical markings of his alias and superpower had faded when he’d been injected with a dose of Agent N. In less than a minute, his power—which was the eerie ability to morph children into brainwashed puppets—had been stripped away. The Puppeteer was no more.
Adrian had seen Winston a couple of times since that day, having questioned him about Nightmare and the other Anarchists. But in those meetings, Winston had been dispirited and weak, a shell of his former self. That was not the man standing onstage now. His back was straight. Healthful color had returned to his complexion.
He was smiling.
And not a cruel, preparing-to-manipulate-a-six-year-old smile, but something genuine and unexpectedly warm.
It rendered him almost unrecognizable.
As the others took their seats, Captain Chromium approached the microphone. He spent a moment welcoming the crowd and the media who had gathered for their important announcement, conveying how the purpose of the Renegades was and had always been to ensure the safety of their citizens, while working to improve the quality of life for both prodigies and non-prodigies around the world. He talked about his enthusiasm for the new asset they were about to reveal and the pride he felt having been a part of its development. How he foresaw the potential of this tool to be, literally, world-changing.
As the audience clapped politely, the Captain stepped back and welcomed Dr. Hogan to the microphone.
Her speech was almost exactly the same as when she had first introduced the concept of Agent N to the Renegade patrol units. Agent N offers a nonviolent solution with instantaneous results … It is completely safe to be used around non-prodigy civilians … This will provide a humanitarian consequence for prodigies who defy regulations …
Adrian kept his attention on the media gathered in their box. Their surprise and interest. Their pens scribbling across small notepads. Their cameras zoomed in on the doctor’s face.
He wondered what the news would soon be reporting. The Council hoped this would replace the rumors that the Renegades had become incompetent and ineffective. Agent N was their big chance to show the world what they had been putting their efforts into all these years. This was their chance to demonstrate how they intended to deal with wayward prodigies going forward. This was their chance to show that villainy would not be tolerated. Not so long as they were in charge.
And Adrian wanted to believe it. His marker was in his hand, though he didn’t remember taking it out, and he found his fingers fiddling with it unconsciously. He wasn’t nervous so much as … unsettled.
He remembered watching as Frostbite and her team bullied the Anarchists, trying to force them to incriminate themselves, whether or not they’d actually been involved in the attack on the parade. He’d seen them torture Hawthorn, ultimately murdering her and framing the Sentinel for the brutal attack.
The Anarchists and Hawthorn were villains. Perhaps they deserved no sympathy.
But in those moments, Adrian had been forced to question who the true villains were.
If Frostbite’s team could get away with it, he knew that more Renegades could, too. Who would stop them? Who would even try?
“Shortly, we will have a demonstration of what Agent N can do,” the doctor said, “so that you can see its effectiveness with your own eyes, and witness both how swift and how merciful a weapon it is. But first, we wish to invite one of our greatest success stories to offer his own opinion on the serum and its life-changing effects. Please join me in bringing to the microphone none other than a former villain and associate of Ace Anarchy himself. You will know him by the name of the Puppeteer, but today he is known only as Mr. Winston Pratt.”
There was applause, though it was stilted and unsure. Murmurs flooded the crowd as Winston stood and took his place before the microphone. It all felt so surreal. The day he’d been neutralized, he had used a young Renegade to try to attack Dr. Hogan. He had been led from the stage in shackles.
What had changed to now make him appear so relaxed, so … jovial?
“My gratitude, Dr. Hogan,” Winston said, bending toward the microphone that had been lowered for the doctor and left far too short for his willowy build. “I am grateful. Not only for the ways in which the direction of my life has changed—thanks to Agent N and the team of doctors and therapists who have been working with me—I am also grateful for this chance to tell my story.”
He smiled again, but it was more bashful now. Adrian could tell he was nervous. He spent a moment awkwardly adjusting the microphone, then cleared his throat and took a set of index cards from his pocket. “I have known many … villains … over the years. I was an Anarchist for more than half my life, starting at only fourteen years old. I joined Ace Anarchy’s cause after running away from home.” Pausing, he tapped the edges of the cards on the podium. Inhaled deeply, and continued, “Often, when a new member joined us, we would talk about our ‘origin stories.’ It’s a popular topic among us prodigies—both heroes and villains, I think. I gave little thought to it at the time, but … it’s become clear to me that our stories all had something in common. With the exception of those of us who were born with our abilities, the rest of us became prodigies after … well, some great trauma. Though we spoke of our origins with pride, in reality, these times were often … horrific. And painful. Perhaps the fact that we survived them made our pride greater, but I … I never thought to ask my companions, or … even myself … whether we would have been better off to have never undergone such trauma in the first place.”
Adrian’s brow creased. He glanced at his teammates. Danna, like him, had been born with her gift. But Oscar had become a prodigy after nearly dying in a fire, and Ruby gained her powers after being viciously attacked by a member of the Jackals gang.
In fact, every origin story he knew was rooted in trauma of one sort or another.
“As for me,” Winston continued, his tone growing weary, “I never shared my real story. Not with the Anarchists, not with anyone, for all those years. The story of how I became the Puppeteer brought me no pride. Only shame and anger.” Gone was the easy smile of minutes before. He hesitated, and looked out at someone in the audience. Following his gaze, Adrian recognized the counselor who had been working with Winston after his neutralization. She gave an encouraging nod.
Stooping down, Winston opened a bag at his feet. The journalists near the front tensed, perhaps expecting him to pull out a bomb or gun.
But it was only a doll. Adrian recognized Hettie, Winston’s childhood doll that he had once traded to the ex-villain for information regarding Nightmare.
“This is Hettie,” said Winston, holding the doll up for everyone to see. “My father made Hettie for me for my seventh birthday. A part of me thought I might be too old for dolls, but … there was something about this one. I loved it immediately.” He paused, a shadow eclipsing his expression. “A few months later, my parents were out one night, and I was being watched by a neighbor. A … longtime family friend who often babysat me. He took an interest in Hettie … suggested we play a game…” Winston paused and Adrian could feel his own chest tightening in the horrible silence that followed. Finally, Winston gave his head a shake and set the doll on the podium, as if unable to look at it. The doll’s shiny black eyes peered emptily into the crowd. “I didn’t understand it then, but the game became a foil for him to … to … molest me. For the first time. It … would not be the last.”
There were gasps in the crowd. Hands pressed over speechless mouths. Looks of pity and horror. From the corner of his eye, Adrian saw Ruby squeeze Oscar’s arm.
“I had never felt so powerless. So ashamed, and confused.” Winston was scrutinizing the doll as he told his tale. “I would not know that I had become a prodigy until weeks later when, at school, my anger boiled over, and I lashed out at a kid who was a grade older than I was, who had taken the last slice of pizza in the cafeteria. Before I understood what I was doing, I had my strings around him. I made him…” He paused, clearing his throat. “I made him bash his own face into the tray. It broke his nose.”
A long silence followed this statement.
“My powers began to change after that,” Winston continued. “They changed me inside and out. Since that day, I have hurt more children than I could count. Not in the way that I was hurt, but as victims, powerless under my control. I don’t tell you this story because I want your pity. I also don’t mean to justify the things I’ve done, or to make excuses for the role I played as an Anarchist and … a villain.” He uncurled his spine, no longer bending over the microphone. “I tell you this because many prodigies will insist that their powers are a gift. I believed this, too. My powers were my identity. They were the source of my strength, my control. I didn’t know until recently, until after my powers were neutralized by Agent N, that they were none of these things. They were a burden. A curse. They kept me in the head of a victim for all those years, and they turned me into a monster, too. I know that I will never be free of the trauma I experienced or the memories of all the awful things I’ve done. But thanks to Agent N, I feel … for the first time, I feel like there might be a path forward. For the first time, I feel like I’m beginning to heal. To speak on my own behalf and maybe, someday, on the behalf of kids who were like me. I am so sorry for the hurt I’ve caused. I may never be able to make amends to the many children I used as puppets, but I do hope to make amends in as many ways as I can. I can’t say that other prodigies who are neutralized will feel the same way, but as for me, I am not sorry to be free of my powers.” He took Hettie and set the doll down on the floorboards of the stage, then held out a hand toward Captain Chromium.
The Captain stood and lifted the tall chromium pike that had been leaning up against his chair. The Silver Spear. He handed it to Winston.
Winston stood back, gripping the pike in both hands. “I am no longer a victim!” he yelled. With that, he swung the pike down. The flat end crashed into the doll. It shattered from the impact—its head caved in, one arm flew off the stage, a leg skidded off beneath Tsunami’s chair. Winston hit it again—two times, three.
