“This is the lounge,” said Ruby. “Open access for anyone on the patrol task forces or who works in enforcement. Mostly we come here to unwind when we’re waiting for a shift to start, or if it’s been a slow night for crime.”
“Not that there have been many of those lately,” said Oscar. “Or … ever.” He gestured toward a hallway. “There are private rooms down here if you ever need to take a power nap.” He paused. “Or, I guess, not a power nap, but … something equally restorative and … restful … like, meditation. Or something.” Ears turning pink, he glanced at Ruby for help.
“Or,” said Ruby loudly, finding a door with a vacant tab by the doorknob, “if you need to get changed.” She pushed the door open. “Keep your belt on over the uniform. It’ll be part of your signature.”
“We’ll wait out here,” said Oscar. “Want something from the vending machines?”
“No, thank you,” said Nova, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind her. After ensuring she was alone in the room, she reached back and turned the bolt on the lock. The room looked how she imagined a college dormitory would look, but with better quality furniture. A narrow sleeping cot, the blankets neatly tucked around the corners. A glass-topped desk containing today’s edition of the Gatlon Gazette and a sleek table lamp. A small counter in the corner with a built-in sink. A full-length mirror hung on the back of a closet door.
The only decoration was a large framed poster over the bed—a vintage print showing a spread taken from some comic book Nova didn’t recognize. In the vibrant color panels, a masked superhero was scooping a red-haired woman into his arms and flying her to safety above a jutting city skyline. The woman’s eyes were shining deliriously as she cried out in bold Comic Sans—“I knew you’d come! You always come!”
With a disparaging laugh, Nova turned away from the print.
The room was nice. Far nicer than what she was accustomed to. But there was something faintly unnerving about the place. It was too clean, too neat, too perfect.
Too full of false promises.
She would not be lured into security by simple comforts like a noticeable lack of vermin skittering across the floor.
She unrolled the gray bundle and held the uniform up by the shoulders. It was a simple bodysuit that would cover her from throat to wrist to ankle, with red detailing along the limbs and a red R emblazoned on the chest.
She shook her head at it and sighed. “All right, Insomnia,” she said, dropping the uniform onto the bed and peeling off her shirt. “It’s too late to change your mind now.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ADRIAN WAS BEAMING when he entered the lounge. In the hours since he’d gotten permission from his dads for his team to handle the library surveillance mission, he’d already been to visit the location of their first non-patrol task. He hadn’t gone inside the library, but he’d staked out an abandoned office building just across the street that would provide them with a perfect place to set up, and a particular corner office with a window looking straight into the alleyway around the library’s east side, where a back door struck him as the perfect entrance for shady people coming to do shady dealings. He’d made a list of supplies, from binoculars to snack foods to a deck of cards, because a bored Oscar was a dangerous thing. Mostly, though, his head had been full all morning of fantasies in which his team not only uncovered a ring of black-market weapon dealings and put Gene Cronin behind bars, but where they easily tracked down and arrested Nightmare too.
He spotted Oscar and Ruby playing Battle to the Death, one of two standing arcade games in the lounge, there to keep the patrol units entertained when they waited for an assignment. The game was a classic two-person combat challenge, and Oscar and Ruby developed an instantaneous rivalry when it had been brought in the year before. As far as Adrian could tell, their skills continued to be neck and neck, to each of their continued frustrations.
He came to stand behind them as Ruby’s avatar did a roundhouse kick that sent Oscar’s flying offscreen. Ruby whooped and flung her hands outward in celebration, smacking Adrian in the nose. He cried out and pulled back, adjusting his glasses with one hand and pressing the other over his nose.
Ruby recoiled. “Sorry!” she squeaked, though her look of remorse quickly turned into a suspicious scowl. “Except, not really, creepy stalker guy. How long were you standing there?”
“About two seconds,” said Adrian, scrunching his nose a couple times to clear the painful tingling that was running through the cartilage.