Archenemies (Renegades, #2)(21)
“This,” said Joanna Hogan, “is Agent N. It is a neutralizing agent … hence the name. Here we have the substance in liquid form, which has a number of viable uses, but we have conducted successful experimentation with the agent in capsule form as well.” She pulled one vial from the case and held it up. “This vial, containing just ten milliliters of the agent, has the ability to swiftly and permanently remove the powers from any prodigy on this planet.”
A murmur of surprise swept through the audience, and a few of the Renegades seated closest to the stage scooted their chairs away.
Nova tried to disguise the shudder that worked its way through her shoulders. She felt Danna’s scrutiny on her but didn’t meet her gaze.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Joanna. “In liquid form, the solution must be imbibed orally or intravenously in order to be effective. You’re all quite safe.” She lowered her hand, cradling the vial in her clasped palms. “We see Agent N as a humanitarian consequence for those who defy regulations put forth by our Council. After you have been trained on proper usage of Agent N, we will begin to equip all patrol units with release devices. Once this is in your hands, anyone with extraordinary abilities who chooses to conduct themselves in an unlawful manner will no longer be tolerated. They will forfeit the privilege of being a prodigy.”
The audience’s faces contorted in curiosity and subtle appreciation.
Nova felt queasy, remembering how horrified she had felt after going into Max’s quarantine, when Adrian told her that Max could absorb the powers of others merely by being in their presence. When, for a moment, she thought she might no longer be a prodigy at all.
To have your power taken away, against your will … wasn’t this a violation of prodigy rights, as much as any abuse they’d suffered before the Age of Anarchy? Ace had fought so hard to give all prodigies the freedom to reveal their powers without fear of persecution, but now the Renegades, the very people who should have been fighting on behalf of other prodigies, were determined to eradicate those who didn’t follow their code. Even though none of their new laws had ever been put to a vote or officially accepted by the people. Even though the Renegades had made themselves judge and jury, lawmakers and enforcers.
Nova scanned the room, sure that she couldn’t be the only one who saw the hypocrisy here. To change a prodigy on such a fundamental level, to alter the essence of who they were, merely because they broke a rule that they had never agreed to in the first place? What about fair trials? What about due process?
But all she saw around her were intrigued expressions.
Until her gaze landed on Adrian. He, at least, seemed troubled. At some point he’d taken out his marker and started bouncing it nervously against his fingers.
“Additionally,” Joanna continued, “we are enthusiastic about the opportunity to use Agent N as an alternate sentence for some of the inmates incarcerated at Cragmoor Penitentiary. To date, seven inmates have been neutralized as part of our testing process, and we will be assigning a committee to look at all Cragmoor residents on a case-by-case basis. Their criminal behavior has never been tolerated by the Renegades, and now we will ensure that it can never happen again.”
A murmur of approval swept through the audience, but her words left Nova cold. This was the first anyone was hearing about Agent N, and yet, seven inmates had already been neutralized? By whose order? Under whose approval? Had there been trials set up? Were the inmates given any choice in the matter?
Or had those seven victims been treated as nothing more than lab rats as the researchers perfected this new weapon? Had there been more inmates who had not been successfully neutralized and, if so, what had become of them?
It had to be a violation of human rights, but … who cared about the rights of villains?
Beside her, Adrian muttered something about Cragmoor beneath his breath. Nova cast him a curious look.
Leaning toward her, he whispered, “I saw a transport truck outside earlier. I think they brought one of the prisoners here.”
Nova had only vague memories of Anarchists who had been captured and put in Cragmoor before the Battle for Gatlon, and she assumed they were still there. The other Anarchists never talked about their lost allies and she had paid them little thought over the years.
“I will now be giving a demonstration of Agent N. I think you’ll be pleased to see how simple and efficient it is. Please bring the subject to the stage.” Dr. Hogan gestured at the door the Captain had gone through. Blacklight stepped forward and pulled it open. Those in the front row craned their heads to see who would come through.
“Our subject has been convicted and found guilty of numerous attacks on our citizens. He has used his abilities to brainwash innocent children, which has resulted in injuries sustained by countless individuals over the years.”
Nova inhaled a sharp breath.
She’d been wrong before. She did know someone who was being held at Cragmoor Penitentiary, after all.
“He is a criminal who once served beside Ace Anarchy himself,” said Dr. Hogan, as Captain Chromium returned, hauling a prisoner at his side. “I introduce Winston Pratt … the Puppeteer.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
NOVA SLID LOWER into her seat as Winston was led onto the stage. He wore a black-and-white-striped prison jumper instead of his usual purple velvet suit, and there were chromium chains binding his ankles and wrists, but he was not fighting against his captor. His orange hair was matted and unbrushed, but his makeup remained—thick black liner around his eyes, rosy circles on the apples of his cheeks, and sharp lines drawn from the corners of his mouth down the sides of his jaw, reminiscent of a wooden marionette. It confirmed that, despite what Nova had assumed for all the years she’d known him, Winston did not wear makeup at all, but rather, his power had transformed his face into that of a puppet.