Red Assassin wrenched her gem free and turned to face Nova and Smokescreen, panting. She started to twirl the wire-tethered ruby like a lasso over her head.
Nova scowled. So much work, wasted.
Monarch formed again, arms crossed over her chest. “I believe Smokescreen asked you a question.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” said Nova. “I was busy daydreaming about your funerals.”
She grabbed the cane and kicked back her hips, launching Smokescreen over her head. He landed on his back with a grunt.
Snagging the cane from his hands, Nova struck the backs of Monarch’s knees, knocking her off her feet.
Red Assassin threw the gem at Nova. The wire wound around her ankle, yanking her to the ground and dragging her across the gritty rooftop. Nova tried to dislodge another throwing star from her belt, but before she could get ahold of it, Red pulled a dagger cut from the same red crystal as her hook and pressed her knee on top of Nova’s chest. She dug the point of the dagger against Nova’s jugular.
“Who,” said Red Assassin, with careful enunciation, “are you working for?”
Sensing her own heartbeat against the gemstone, Nova couldn’t help smiling behind her mask. “Your worst nightmare,” she said, jamming her fingertips into the cuff of Red’s boot and finding the skin of her ankle. Her power rolled through her. The blade dug into her throat, but then Red Assassin’s eyes closed and she collapsed beside her.
A wave of hazy white mist rolled across the rooftop. Nova looked around, but the mist was already too thick to see Smokescreen. Sitting up, she unwound the wire from her leg and grabbed the dagger. It was lighter than any knife she’d ever held and looked like it had been cut from a single ruby, though she knew a real gemstone would have been much heavier.
Whatever material Red Assassin used for her specialized weaponry, it was sharp, and that’s all Nova cared about.
On her feet again, she peered into the shroud of odorless smoke, listening for any sign of Smokescreen or Monarch. Her senses felt dulled in the fog. Infrared goggles would have helped. She would have to work on those next.
She spotted a dark shape—her duffel bag. With one more glance around, she bolted for the bag and threaded her elbow through the handles.
Monarch appeared from nowhere, her dreadlocks whipping behind her as she aimed a jab for Nova’s head. Nova ducked and rammed her shoulder into Monarch’s abdomen. The Renegade bent forward and Nova stabbed upward with the dagger, but the moment she felt the blade pierce the flesh of her upper leg, Monarch exploded into fluttering wings.
The smoke was beginning to clear, and Nova spotted a rickety fire escape on the next building. Tucking the dagger into her belt, she sprinted toward the edge of the roof and jumped. Catching the fire-escape rail, she vaulted herself over it and onto metal stairs that shuddered and clanged beneath her.
Smokescreen’s voice cut through the fog. “Monarch!”
Nova paused long enough to look back and see Monarch reappear, though she immediately collapsed and pressed a palm over the cut in her thigh. The gray fabric of her uniform was darkening with blood.
Nova swung the duffel bag over her shoulder and hauled herself up the winding stairs, taking the risers two at a time.
She reached the roof and ran for the far side.
She was halfway across when a large figure leaped up from the street below, clearing the rooftop by a good twenty feet. Nova skidded to a stop, her panting breaths warming the inside of her mask.
The form landed in front of her with a clang.
Rather than a charcoal-gray bodysuit, he was dressed in something akin to armor—every limb protected, every muscle sculpted into the rigid shell, his face disguised behind a helmet and dark-tinted visor. The Renegade R was emblazoned on his chest, but the armor wasn’t like any Renegade uniform she’d ever seen.
Though she couldn’t see his eyes, she could feel them watching her. Nova took half a step back, scanning the figure from head to toe. There was no skin to be seen, only narrow seams between the armored plates that might be vulnerable to more traditional attacks.
“You must be new around here,” she said.
His head tilted. “I’ve been around long enough to know who you are … Nightmare.”
Nova’s fingers skimmed along the top of her belt, though she wasn’t confident any of her weapons would be effective. “Should I be flattered?”
Before the figure could answer, a bout of high-pitched laughter echoed off the high-rise buildings, pealing through the streets and alleys of downtown Gatlon. The sound was grating, shrill, and far too familiar.