“You know, Nova,” said Adrian gently, before she could formulate a response, “you once said that the world would be better without any prodigies in it at all. So … maybe, in that way, Agent N can be a good thing?”
“No,” she said, firmly. “This is different. I do think humanity would be better off without any prodigies at all. People would have control over their own world again and be forced to make their own decisions. Helping themselves for once rather than relying on superheroes all the time. It would level the playing field.” She considered her own team and thought of the amazing powers surrounding her just in this small group, and then all the powers of all the prodigies all over the world. Normal humans, without any such abilities, could never compete with what the Renegades had become. “But that’s not what’s happening here. This is oppression, pure and simple. If they succeed, the Renegades will be putting themselves even higher above everyone else than they already have. There will be no one to challenge … us. No one to stand in our way or keep us from achieving total power, and then where will humanity be?”
“It will still be better off than it was in the hands of the villains,” said Danna.
Scowling, Nova forced herself to meet her gaze and hold it this time. “And once they”—she paused—“once we have total power, what’s to keep us from becoming villains ourselves?”
CHAPTER NINE
ADRIAN WAS STILL waiting outside the meeting room, tapping his foot and listening to the rise and fall of conversations beyond the door. The rest of his team had headed off to the cafeteria, at Oscar’s urging, of course, but he’d had an idea during the meeting that kept him from joining them. He’d been waiting to talk to Hugh or Simon for nearly twenty minutes now, but the Council was taking forever to leave the room, stopping to talk to every single person who accosted them. Finally, Hugh split off from a group of patrol units, all evidently excited about the prospect of starting Agent N training.
“Hey, Dad!” Adrian worked his way through the lingering crowd.
Hugh turned to him, beaming. “Adrian! What’d you think?”
“Uh—great,” he said quickly, though saying it felt like a betrayal, of both Nova’s hesitations and his own. He needed more time to process Agent N and what it could mean for the organization and society at large. What it could mean for the Sentinel. But that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about now. “I have a question.”
“You and everyone else,” said Hugh, dropping a hand onto Adrian’s shoulder and steering him through the crowd. “We’re going to have lots more information to impart over the coming weeks, and your training will clear up a lot of confusion—”
“Not about Agent N. I want to know what’s happening with the Puppeteer.”
“Winston Pratt,” said Hugh, holding up a finger. “He is no longer the Puppeteer, nor will he ever be again.”
“Right,” Adrian drawled. “I’m wondering—is he being sent back to Cragmoor today, or…”
“Cragmoor? Why would we send him back to Cragmoor?” Hugh’s eyes were twinkling. Literally twinkling. “Cragmoor Penitentiary is for prodigy criminals, and Winston Pratt is no longer a prodigy.”
“Okay … so … where are we sending him?”
“He’ll be put in one of our temporary holding cells here in HQ until he has completed a series of psychological evaluations and his past crimes have been reassessed in light of his new status. He’s no longer the threat that he once was, and that will be taken into account.”
“The holding cells, great,” said Adrian, clapping his hands together. “Is he on his way there now?”
For the first time, Hugh sent him an uncertain look. “Nooo,” he said. “He’ll be taken back to the laboratories first, so we can monitor him for potential side effects from the neutralization. We don’t expect there to be any, but our researchers are adamant that we continue to collect as much information from our subjects as possible, to prevent future surprises, blah blah blah.” He waved a hand through the air.
“The laboratories,” repeated Adrian. “How long will he be there for?”
“I don’t know, Adrian. A few days, maybe. What is this about?”
They had reached the elevator bank and Hugh jabbed the up button. Adrian stood straighter, trying to channel his dad’s confidence. “I’d like to ask him some questions.”
“You already asked him some questions.”
“That was months ago, and it was a part of the Nightmare investigation. Things are different now.”
“I’d say. One difference being that you’re no longer an investigator.” Hugh stepped into the elevator, and Adrian followed him in, scowling.
“I’m also no longer on patrols, at least until Danna is cleared,” Adrian said. “So I have some free time and I thought—” He hesitated as Hyperspeed and Velocity stepped over the elevator’s threshold. “Uh … would you mind waiting for the next one?” he said, gently nudging them back out again. Their gazes skipped between Adrian and the Captain, then they stepped away without argument.
The doors closed and Hugh made a disapproving sound as he pressed the floor for the Council’s offices. “There’s no call to be rude, Adrian.”
“Listen,” he said.
“I am listening,” said Hugh, “but I can listen and be polite at the same time.” He fixed Adrian with a look of adamant concentration that felt borderline mocking.
He plowed on. “Nightmare was confirmed an Anarchist, and I still believe that she knew something about my mother’s murder.”
Hugh’s expression became a bit more doubtful, but Adrian ignored it.
“If she knew something, then it’s reasonable that the other Anarchists might know something too. It’s likely that the murderer was an Anarchist, right?”
“We have always regarded that as a strong possibility.”
“So, just because Nightmare’s dead doesn’t mean the investigation is over. I want to talk to the Puppe—to Winston Pratt about it, see if he knows anything.”
“You are aware that we’ve been questioning him off and on ever since the Detonator attacked Cloven Cross Library, aren’t you?” said Hugh. “Some of our best detectives have interrogated him to try to find out where the remaining Anarchists might have gone, and as far as we can tell, he is completely oblivious. I’m not sure—”
“I don’t care where the other Anarchists are,” said Adrian. Then, realizing that he actually did care very much, he adjusted his glasses and continued, “Yes, obviously, I would love to catch them as much as anyone, but that’s not what I want to ask him about. Somebody killed Lady Indomitable, and if Winston Pratt has any information on that case, I want to talk to him about it.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
Adrian shrugged. “Nothing lost, right?”
The elevator slowed and the doors opened onto an immaculate lobby. Behind a desk, Prism launched to her feet, holding up a folder. “Captain, sir, I’ve finished preparing that memo—”