Nova stared at him. “You really don’t have to worry about that. I’m so excited for this opportunity. Believe me, I want to be involved in … well, as much as you guys need me for. And I have so much free time on my hands, it feels good to be using it for something productive.” She grinned brightly, and it was made easier by the fact that she hadn’t had to tell a single lie. Given that she never slept, she did have a lot of free time on her hands, and having access to the artifacts department would be very productive indeed.
“Great to hear,” said Evander, slapping her on the back, hard enough to make her stumble in surprise. “Adrian really knew what he was doing when he picked you out at the trials. That boy has great intuition.” Stepping back, he pointed his fingers at her, like shooting pretend pistols. “You can report to artifacts tomorrow morning. I’ll let Snapshot know you’re coming.”
She turned away, newly energized.
All of Nova’s previous attempts to learn more had been met with dead ends and unknowns, to the point where it made her want to attack something with a crowbar. She was supposed to be a spy. She was supposed to be the Anarchists’ secret weapon. Now, she could get close to Ace’s helmet and start making a plan for how she was going to get it back.
Most of the crowd had found seats by the time Nova made her way toward her team.
“What did Blacklight want?” Adrian whispered as she sat down between him and Danna.
“He wanted to know if I’m still interested in doing extra work in the artifacts department,” she said. “I start tomorrow.”
Adrian looked surprised and, she thought, a little disheartened. “Artifacts? But … what about…”
“I’ll still be doing patrols. Remember, I have a lot more hours in my day than you guys have.”
Adrian nodded, but she could still see a shadow of concern behind his glasses. She knew exactly what he was thinking. Just because she never slept didn’t mean she shouldn’t occasionally rest. It was an argument she heard a lot. But people who needed sleep and rest couldn’t possibly understand how lack of action only made her irritable. She needed movement, work, momentum. She needed to keep busy during those long hours when the rest of the world was sleeping in order to drive away the anxieties that were always encroaching on her. The constant worry that she wasn’t doing enough.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I want to do this.” Remembering the faint way Adrian had touched her elbow, Nova braced herself and went to place a hand on his knee. But in the space between her brain telling her it was a good idea, and her hand actually making the move, it turned into an uncomfortable balling of her fist that knocked clumsily against the side of Adrian’s thigh, before immediately withdrawing into her own lap.
Adrian stared down at his leg, brow furrowed.
Nova cleared her throat and wished that she’d been gifted with the power to stop blushing at will, rather than eternal sleeplessness.
A hand thumped against a microphone, reverberating through the speakers. The five Council members had taken the stage: Evander Wade, Kasumi Hasegawa, Tamaya Rae, Simon Westwood, and Hugh Everhart.
Hugh stood at the microphone. Though the Council pretended they didn’t have a hierarchy among themselves, most people felt that Hugh Everhart—the invincible Captain Chromium—was the figurehead of the organization. He was the one who had defeated Ace Anarchy. He was the one who had rallied countless prodigies to their side and fought against the villain gangs who had taken control of the city.
He was also, of the entire Council, the one who Nova felt deserved her wrath the most. If anyone should have rescued her family when they were killed more than a decade ago, it should have been Captain Chromium.
But he hadn’t stopped the murders from happening. He hadn’t been there when she needed him most.
Nova would never forgive him for that. She would never forgive any of them.
“Thank you all for coming today on such short notice,” said Hugh. His Captain Chromium uniform was comprised of skintight fabric that made it seem like even his neck muscles had been lifting weights. The classic costumes were generally reserved for special occasions—big celebrations or big announcements. It suggested that today, the Council were not only the leaders of this organization. They were the superheroes who protected the world.
And, in doing so, controlled the world.
“We hadn’t intended to conduct this meeting for another couple of weeks,” Hugh continued, “but due to recent events, the Council has agreed that immediate action must be taken. As I’m sure you’re aware, the Renegade organization has come under recent scrutiny, beginning most notably with the Puppeteer’s attack on our parade, and more recently, the Detonator’s bombing of Cosmopolis Park.”
Nova traded a glance with Adrian, but as soon as their eyes connected they both shifted away.
“Add to this the rising crime rates and the growing black-market trade for weaponry and drugs, and we understand why the public has been demanding a response from us. They want to know how we plan to protect and defend our citizens in the face of so many threats. The Council is doing everything we can to ensure the people that their safety is our utmost priority, and that we require their continued support and cooperation in order to serve them. On that note, I must remind you all that it is of utmost importance that all prodigies who carry the Renegade banner uphold the Gatlon code authority, both on and off duty. The pursuit of justice is integral to our reputation, but the safety of civilians must always be our top priority. On that note, I want to briefly address the rise we’ve been seeing in vigilantism.”
Adrian started to cough sporadically. He ducked his head, burying his mouth in his elbow.
Nova pat his back and he winced. “I’m okay,” he muttered. “Just … inhaled wrong.”
“We want to see justice served,” Hugh continued, “but it is a thin line we walk between justice and revenge. The code is in place so that we can always know what side of the divide we must adhere to. It’s selfish to risk the lives of innocent people in order to serve our own agendas. It’s thoughtless to put civilians at risk so we might achieve glory. That might be the course of villains of the past, or vigilantes like the one who recently called himself the Sentinel. But that is not who we are.”
Adrian sank lower into his seat. Nova remembered him once talking about the code, and how the rules set forth by the Council could be hypocritical when, during the Age of Anarchy, they themselves had had no problem endangering innocent lives, so long as they caught their enemies in the end. Back then, the Renegades were notorious for causing catastrophic destruction or engaging in fights that led to plenty of innocent onlookers being wounded, but it hadn’t seemed to bother them at the time. They would have done anything to ensure their side was victorious.
Sometimes Nova felt like the Renegades of the past had more in common with the Anarchists than anyone dared to admit.
“But of course,” said Hugh, “there are times when a peaceful solution cannot be reached. There are times when a criminal must be stopped, as quickly and effectively as possible, to prevent them from causing even more devastation. And so long as stopping that criminal does not interfere with the safety of our citizens, then Renegades who embrace their duty must be celebrated and praised.” He took in a deep breath, and the furrow that had appeared between his eyebrows relaxed. “Which is why, today, we would like to take a moment to honor one of our own.” His eyes scanned the crowd. “Would Nova McLain, alias Insomnia, please stand?”