Archenemies (Renegades, #2)(37)
Callum continued, “This way we have protective artifacts, most notably Magnetron’s Shield. Behind those ominous doors,” he said, pointing at a pair of fortified chromium doors in the far wall, “is the official armory. Sounds impressive, but it’s mostly basic weaponry. A sword that’s just a sword, a crossbow that’s just a crossbow. No extra powers, but still useful for a lot of Renegades. That’s also where we keep the heavier artillery, like guns and bombs, et cetera. And…” He swooped his arms up. “… what you’ve all been waiting for! Our supernatural, prodigy-specific, largely historic collection of fine artifacts. We’ve got power-bestowing earrings. Boxing gloves equipped with superstrength. A lightning-charged trident. And oh, so much more. It’s a treasure trove of awe and amazement. Including my personal favorite—Sultan’s Scimitar, said to be able to slice through absolutely any material on this planet, excepting only the invincible Captain Chromium.”
He shot Nova a grin and she couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, so she smiled wryly back. “Has anyone tried?”
His smile fizzled into uncertainty, and Nova turned away before he could decide if she was joking or not. She saw a pile of bones on a nearby shelf—though she couldn’t tell the animal it came from—and a shallow bronze dish on another. Down one aisle she spotted a set of golden wrist cuffs. On the next, a stone wheel that was as tall as Nova.
Walking through the warehouse felt like walking through a comprehensive museum of prodigy history, and yet she couldn’t help being annoyed by Callum’s infatuation with the objects surrounding them. He wasn’t even trying to hide how enamored he was with it all, and he seemed just as impressed with the silver shovel that held the power to liquefy solid earth as he was with a brush that painted secrets into portraits, and had gotten one unlucky artist burned at the stake in the seventeenth century.
She assumed, as they made their way through the vault, that Callum wasn’t a prodigy. Only civilians were this excited by superpowers or supernatural objects. Plus, he wasn’t wearing a uniform. She wondered if perhaps it had seemed safer to give the job of maintaining such powerful objects to someone who wouldn’t be able to wield most of them, even if he tried.
“So, what do you do here?” asked Nova, once Callum had finished telling her about the fifteenth-century prodigy who had single-handedly defended an entire village from raiding conquerors using nothing but his powers of flora manipulation and a branch taken from a willow tree. (The branch could be found two aisles over.) “Prodigy historian?”
“Might as well be,” he said, chuckling. “But no. I mostly do cataloging, cleaning, researching, sorting, filing … whatever Snapshot needs done.”
“I’d like to help with all of that,” Nova said, working up her enthusiasm. “I’m really fascinated by this stuff and I want to learn as much as I can. Snapshot said I’d start working the checkout counter, but eventually I’d like to do more back here. Cataloging, cleaning … I can do it all.”
“That sounds great,” said Callum, clapping his hands together. “Manning the checkout counter can get tedious. Except, sometimes, a Renegade might not know exactly what they’re looking for, or what weapons are going to suit their specific abilities, and then we get to help them figure out the best options, and that can be really cool, too. You learn a lot about the superheroes we have here.” His eyes shone as he gestured at Nova. “I’m glad you like artifacts, too, because it could seem a little slow down here after being on patrols, and ambushing the Librarian, and fighting the Detonator, and everything you’ve done. This is going to be a much more laid-back experience, though also really fulfilling.”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Cool.” Callum lifted his thumb back toward the reception area. “Let’s get you settled in, and maybe see what sort of stuff Magpie brought us.”
“Wait,” said Nova, scanning the back wall of the vault. “What’s down there?”
“Ah, that’s the restricted collection.”
Nova’s nerves hummed. “Restricted, how?”
“As in, not available to be checked out.” Callum tucked his hands into his pockets. “Want to see?”
Nova spun back to him. “That’s allowed?”
“Oh yeah. We can’t loan this stuff out, but we still have to come back and dust it from time to time. Come on.” He led her into the last aisle.
The shelves were sparser than the rest of the vault. Heart drumming, Nova scanned the objects as Callum started rambling on about the destructive qualities of Fury Fire, and how Dark Matter’s ring could theoretically blow up the moon if put in the wrong hands, and how a prophetic pair of goggles had already caused more trouble than they were worth.
“This is … amazing,” said Nova, and she meant it. “But why isn’t all this under more security? So far I’ve just seen you, and Snapshot, and two locked doors, and”—she gestured at a camera on the ceiling—“a handful of security cameras. Where are the laser barricades? The motion triggers? The armed guards?”
“Please. We’re in Renegade Headquarters.” He spread his arms wide. “Who would try to break in here?”
She gawked at him. “Really? That’s…”