The Sentinel suddenly sprang upward, smashing down on the platform feet away from Frostbite. She stumbled back a step but quickly regained her balance. Behind her, Gargoyle, Aftershock, and Stingray all stood, defensive and ready to attack, though no one had moved. It was clear that the Sentinel’s claim to be there on the Council’s orders had given them all pause.
“Release the Detonator,” he said, opening his fist. The flames extinguished. “Then you and your team are free to leave. I am taking over this investigation.”
Frostbite let out a disbelieving laugh. She twirled the ice shard once, but then let her arm fall, planting the shard like a walking stick into the cracked concrete. “If the Council wants to call us off, they can tell us themselves.”
“They did,” said the Sentinel. “Too bad the reception down here is so horrible. You could have saved yourself this embarrassment.”
Frostbite only looked more suspicious, but Stingray and Aftershock glanced down at the identical black bands that snaked around their wrists. Nova bit her lip. She had often wondered about the bracelets that Renegade patrol units wore. Were they some sort of communication device?
“As it is,” continued the Sentinel, “I’ll refrain from informing your superiors about the many, many codes you’ve broken tonight. But not if you waste any more of my time.”
Fingers drumming against her shard of ice, Frostbite shifted her gaze from the visor to the red R imprinted on the Sentinel’s chest. Her face turned sour, but no less haughty. “Fine,” she spat. “There’s nothing more to be learned here anyway.” She tossed the ice shard to the side. It shattered against a wall.
Striding past the Sentinel, she gestured for her team to follow her.
“Release the Detonator,” called the Sentinel.
“Release her yourself,” she retorted. “And if she repays you by blowing a hole in that fancy suit, don’t come crying to me about it.”
Nova watched the Sentinel as the four Renegades disappeared into the tunnel that would lead them back to the surface. She desperately wished she could see his face—to know if he was relieved or angry, annoyed or grateful. But she could read nothing in his posture, which was the picture of comic-book heroism. Tall and stoic, shoulders peeled back, hands clenched at his sides.
Slowly, he shifted his head to look at Ingrid and let out a frustrated huff. He seemed to consider his options for a long, irritating moment, before he finally stretched his hand out and released a thin, steady stream of flames toward the block of ice. He aimed for the thickest parts around her feet, letting it slowly melt away.
Nova’s mind reeled. She couldn’t help but feel just the tiniest bit grateful that he had come when he had, but still, despite his obvious dislike of Frostbite and her crew, she wasn’t na?ve enough to think that he had suddenly become an ally.
He was a Renegade, and one working for the Council. A top-secret project that the rest of the organization was unaware of.
Something told her they might have just traded one threat for an even bigger one.
When enough ice had melted away, he pulled his arm back, extinguishing the flame. With a pained groan, Ingrid forced one knee to break through the thin layer that remained. A sheet of ice crashed onto the tracks and she fell forward, landing on her hands and knees, shivering. When she could sit back on her heels, she started to rub her hands together, trying to return warmth to her extremities.
The Sentinel said nothing, watching her, motionless. Nova had the distinct impression that he was debating about something, and every now and then she would see a halfhearted flame sputter between his clenched fingers, like he was contemplating lighting a fire to warm Ingrid.
But he never did.
Instead, when the chattering of her teeth had quieted enough that it seemed she would be able to speak, the Sentinel paced to the edge of the platform. “I’m here for Nightmare,” he said. “Where is she?”
Ingrid fixed him with a look of utter contempt. “Nightmare who?”
“Yea tall?” said the Sentinel, holding his hand at a level that was surely a mockery of her actual height. “Black hood? Tried to kill Captain Chromium today?”
Ingrid flexed her fingers, testing the blue sparks she could draw from the air, before forcing herself back to her feet. Nova could tell she was weak, though she was trying hard to hide it. “Oh, that Nightmare.” She shrugged. “Haven’t seen her.”
The Sentinel’s voice darkened. “Perhaps you know where I can find her.”