“We weren’t sure if you were at the parade when it started,” said Captain Chromium.
The Dread Warden appeared beside them and gave Adrian a sideways embrace. “We’re glad you made it back safely.”
To the world, they were Hugh Everhart and Simon Westwood. Superheroes. Councilmen. Founding members of the Renegades.
But to Adrian, they were mostly just his dads.
He rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “Knock it off. You guys are embarrassing me.”
“Not for the last time, I’m sure,” said Simon. “Were you involved in the fight?”
Adrian shook his head. “I was a few blocks away when it started. Spent most of my time playing traffic controller to a few busloads of children.”
“It’s a tough job,” said Hugh, “but someone has to do it.”
“Has an investigation started yet?” asked Adrian. “The Puppeteer wasn’t acting alone. More Anarchists might have been there too—and Nightmare was on the rooftops.” He frowned at Hugh. “She was after you.”
“I’m fine,” said Hugh, scratching his temple. Adrian knew that’s where the dart had struck him, but there wasn’t even a mark.
“I can see that,” he said, “but still, she tried to assassinate you today—and she almost succeeded. And she took down Thunderbird. This girl … she keeps cropping up, and I really don’t think she’s working alone.”
“Neither do we,” said Simon. “We’re looking into it, but so far there’s no solid evidence that Nightmare is with the Anarchists or any other gang affiliation, new or old. She could have just gotten lucky to be able to use Winston’s balloon for a convenient getaway. And without evidence—”
Adrian muttered dully, “—it’s against the code to go after them.”
“If we don’t mind the rules, then we’ll be just like them,” said Hugh.
Adrian didn’t respond. Back when the Renegades had first formed, they didn’t have to play by any rules—there were no rules to play by. They were more like vigilantes than law enforcers, and they certainly weren’t lawmakers. They did what needed to be done in order to make the world a better, safer place. Even if that meant blackmailing someone for information, or infiltrating a hideout because they thought there was something suspicious going on—with or without hard evidence.
There were days when Adrian thought things were better that way. When superheroes were left to be superheroes, not leaders.
Maybe that’s why the idea of the Sentinel appealed to him. There was a freedom in anonymity. There was power in not having to answer to anyone.
Except, as today had shown, that didn’t mean there weren’t consequences.
“Try not to worry so much,” said Simon, and Adrian realized he’d been scowling. “We had Nightmare’s weapon sent over earlier for examination. We’ll see if it turns up anything useful.”
“She’s just a newbie villain, trying to earn herself some credibility,” added Hugh. “We’ve handled a lot worse.”
Adrian couldn’t argue with that. They’d taken down Ace Anarchy himself, among countless others. Still, something told him that Nightmare wasn’t to be ignored. As far as he knew, that one dart had come closer to killing Captain Chromium than anything had before.
Simon looked up at the wall of screens, flashing between images of the Puppeteer, Nightmare waving from the basket of the hot-air balloon, and, every once in a while, the Sentinel.
Hugh followed Simon’s gaze, frowning at the image of the armored prodigy. “Speaking of investigations, what do we know about him?”
Though they were surrounded by reporters, assistants, and patrol teams, no one answered.
Adrian scratched his chest, where the zipper tattoo was hidden, where the Sentinel was tucked safely away. “My team saw him when they were facing off against Nightmare. The Sentinel was after her too.”
Hugh glanced at him. “Did they see him use any abilities?”
“I … think so. Yeah.” He swallowed. “Oscar thought maybe he’s a product out of research and development?”
“Would be news to me,” Simon muttered. “I’ll talk to Oscar and Ruby, see what we can figure out.” A sudden clarity entered his eyes. “I heard about Danna. Is she all right?”
Adrian stiffened. He could still feel the warmth of his own fire. Could still see those butterflies blackening and disintegrating before his eyes. “The healers say she will be.”