“And you never got caught?” said Nova, surprised—and even a little hopeful—to think the security on such powerful objects might be lacking.
“I never formed,” said Danna. “I mean, I stayed in swarm mode the whole time, and as long as I keep them spread out, it’s pretty easy for a bunch of butterflies to go undetected. Lots of places to hide in there too. But actually, the best artifacts aren’t even in the warehouse. A lot of people don’t know this, but they keep a small collection upstairs, outside the Council’s offices. In theory, anyone can go up and see them, but without an official appointment, not many people venture up there.”
“What do they have?” said Nova.
Before Danna could respond, Genissa Clark—Frostbite—appeared framed in the curtains. She took one look at Nova and let out a peal of laughter.
“Great powers, I thought they were joking,” she said, placing one hand on a jutting hip. “No one would be stupid enough to go into the quarantine. I mean, you do know what quarantine means, right, Miss McLain?”
Nova leaned back into her pillows, crossing her legs at the heels. “You’re right, it was stupid. Clearly, when a superhero sees a ten-year-old kid put a glass spike through his hand, the correct response is to hang out and wait for someone else to come deal with it.” She plastered a fake, encouraging smile to her face. “Yay, Renegades!”
“Actually,” said Genissa with a haughty sigh, “the correct response would be to get someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That way, when the experts arrive, they’re not stuck dealing with two unconscious bodies.”
“Here’s an idea,” said Danna. “How about you stab yourself with an ice pick, and Nova and I will make small talk while we wait for the healers to notice.”
“In case you’ve both forgotten,” said Genissa, lifting an eyebrow, “Nova didn’t actually do anything to help Max. So, if you want to go on thinking you did some heroic act, by all means, stroke that ego. But all you really did was risk your own abilities and make yourself look like an idiot.” Her voice turned singsong. “But lucky for you, we can always use a few more data-entry drones. I mean, that’s what they had you doing, anyway. You do know what they call a Renegade without any superpowers, right?”
Nova pretended to think. “Someone who still beat your pet rock at the trials?”
Danna snorted.
“Cute,” said Genissa, unperturbed. “But the correct answer is administrator. I know it’s not the exciting Renegade position you’ve probably always dreamed about, but given that sleeplessness still isn’t a real superpower, I feel like you were given a pretty good run while it lasted.” She winked and turned away.
“Tell Gargoyle I said hi,” Nova called after her.
Genissa’s jaw twitched, but she didn’t respond as she yanked the curtain shut around them.
“Charming,” Danna muttered with a sneer. “Although, she does bring up an interesting point.” She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair, cupping her chin. “You’re one of the very few Renegades whose skill as part of a patrol unit wouldn’t necessarily be impacted by losing your power.” She shrugged. “Why wouldn’t they let you stay on the team? I bet you could make a strong argument for it.”
“I should certainly hope so,” said Nova. She gestured to the curtain. “Be honest. Is she the worst of it—her and her team—or are there slews of Renegades who are far less noble than everyone wants to think?”
“Oh, there are definitely some patrol units who seem to be on a permanent power trip, but Genissa Clark is the worst. Most people here are pretty great. Though, between you and me, there is one person I try to avoid at all costs.” Danna leaned forward, dropping her voice, and Nova couldn’t help but lean toward her as well. “Thunderbird.”
Nova blinked. “Really? A Council member?”
“Ugh, she’s the worst.” Danna covered her face with her hands, as if to hide. “I don’t think she means to be scary, but I find the woman utterly terrifying. She’s so serious, and every time she’s around I feel like she’s searching for any reason to oust me from headquarters. I don’t know what it is, but I swear she hates me.”
“She does seem…” Nova contemplated, unable to find the right word, before settling on, “Critical.”
“Critical, terrifying, same thing.” Danna screwed up her face, looking momentarily embarrassed. “Though, full disclosure, it could have something to do with my inherent fear of birds.”