Nova looked past the skyscrapers, and though she couldn’t see the arena from where she stood, she could easily imagine it on the other side of the downtown district, mirroring its location in the real world.
“Our team?” She looked at Adrian, who had already crouched down and started drawing on the glass wall.
It was Oscar who responded. “Max can’t do patrols, so we made him an honorary member of the group. That way he at least gets a uniform.”
Nova looked back at the boy, who was currently wearing flannel plaid pajamas.
“How’s this?” said Adrian.
She took a step back so she could see his drawing—a simple, yet remarkably accurate portrait of herself on the glass. The drawing was not wearing the Renegade uniform like she wore now, but the simple ribbed shirt and sport leggings she’d had on at the trials. He’d even drawn the tiny cannon in her hand.
“Perfect,” said Max.
Adrian pressed his palm against the drawing, and Nova watched as the ink seeped right through the window, emerging on the other side as a three-dimensional figurine.
“Wow,” she mused. “My first day on the job and I’m already an action figure.”
Adrian lifted his head and grinned.
Max took the figure and scampered back through the city. He paused when he was turning the corner onto Raikes Avenue. “Thanks, Adrian. It was a pleasure to meet you, Insomnia. I’m a really huge fan.”
Adrian saluted him, and Nova, not knowing quite how to react to this odd encounter, saluted too.
“Thanks?” she started, though Max had turned his back on them. She took in the city again, inspecting it more closely than before. “Did you make all this?”
“It’s been a pet project for years.” Adrian stood again and put away the marker. “A labor of love. Keeps Max occupied, at least.”
She scanned the inside of the room, or what she could see of it. There was a path that led around the sky bridge and a closed door on the other side of the enclosure. “He’s not locked up in there, is he?”
When no one answered, she glanced around to see that a shadow had passed over Adrian’s face, and both Ruby and Oscar were frowning. Not so much angry or sad as … resigned.
“It’s not a prison,” said Adrian. “He could leave if he wanted to, or needed to. But he knows…” He hesitated. “He never tries. To leave.”
“Why not?”
He met her eyes. “We call it the quarantine. He has to stay in there for his own good. And ours too.” He shrugged. “It’s as comfortable as they can make it.”
“So he’s sick.”
“Not exactly,” Adrian said, drawing out his words. “He’s…”
“Dangerous,” said Ruby, at the same time Oscar supplied, “Valuable.”
Nova cocked her head in confusion, but before anyone could elaborate, she heard a large clunk and hiss from the door into Max’s quarantine. It opened to reveal another enclosed chamber beyond it. A woman entered the circular room wearing a cumbersome suit, complete with a full-face shield and self-contained breathing apparatus. Though most of the suit was pristine and white, it was embellished with metallic cuffs around the wrists, ankles, and throat. It looked like the sort of uniform one would wear to scour a nuclear wasteland.
The woman carried a white medical box.
Beyond the skyline, Max stood up, looking mildly annoyed at the interruption.
The woman didn’t have to say anything for Max to set down the Insomnia and Gargoyle figurines and start picking his way toward her.
“What’s going on?” said Nova.
“They have to take regular samples from him,” said Adrian. “Blood, saliva…” He shrugged. “I’m honestly not sure what they’re doing with most of it.”
“Trying to cure him?” she said, thinking it should have been obvious.
But Adrian shook his head. “I don’t think so. It’s not really like that. They’re working on something down in research and development, I think.” Adrian sighed and turned his back. “Come on, let’s give the kid some privacy.”
Nova followed the group across the sky bridge, glancing back once to see Max rolling up his sleeve as the woman in the suit prepared a syringe.
“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong with him,” she said. “Or why he’s dangerous, or valuable, or all of the above.”
The others exchanged glances, and Nova bristled.
“It’s sort of classified,” said Adrian, looking apologetic.