“There are no unimportant jobs,” said Nova, leaning the mop against Snapshot’s desk, “only pretentious, small-minded individuals who seek to inflate their own importance by demoralizing everyone else.” Plastering on a brilliant smile, she rounded the desk and booted up the computer. “Can I help you with something?”
Genissa picked up the clipboard with the checkout information on it and tossed it at Nova. “I need Turmoil’s Deadener.”
Nova scanned the top sheet on the clipboard and saw that Genissa had already begun to fill out the information for her request.
“Turmoil’s Deadener?” she said skeptically. “What’s that?”
Genissa stared at her, silently, for a long moment.
Nova stared back. Having cultivated a lifetime’s supply of patience, she was quite good at staring contests.
Finally, Genissa sighed with mild exasperation. “His Sound Deadener? I thought the people in this department were supposed to be useful.”
The Sound Deadener was familiar, now that Nova thought of it—a metronome that, as the pendulum swung back and forth, would create a soundproof perimeter beyond the area where the ticking could be heard.
“What do you need that for?” said Nova, setting down the clipboard.
Genissa grunted. “I’m sorry. Are you supposed to ask questions, or bring me what I ask for?”
Nova’s saccharine smile returned. “Actually, I’m supposed to defend the innocent and uphold justice. So, again. What do you need it for?”
Small ice crystals were forming around Genissa’s fingertips, crackling against the sleeves of her uniform, and Nova could tell she thought this conversation was the biggest waste of her time. It sort of made Nova enjoy it.
“My unit has a busy night ahead,” Genissa said, her voice flat and annoyed. “And unlike some patrol units, we actually make an effort to keep from disturbing the peace.” Leaning forward, she pressed a finger down on the checkout sheet, sending a ripple of ice crackling against the paper. “Oh, wait—I’m sorry, how very inconsiderate of me. I should have realized how our assignment would be upsetting to you. But I’m sure your team was passed up with good reason.”
Nova narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”
“We’ve been assigned to the Hawthorn case,” Genissa gloated. “And we finally have a lead. We should have her in custody within the next forty-eight hours. But don’t worry.” She leaned over the counter. “We’ll be sure to tell everyone what a difficult opponent she was, just to save you further embarrassment. Now, are you going to get that thing for me, or do I need to go find someone who actually knows how to do their job?”
Nova’s blood curdled, to think that Hawthorn might be found and captured, and Frostbite of all people would get the credit for it.
But she gripped her smile like a weapon. “Have you already signed the rental agreement?”
“Of course.”
“Well, then.” Nova shoved away from the desk. “I guess I’ll be right back with your … Deadener.”
It wasn’t hard to find Turmoil’s Sound Deadener, stocked in the power-imbued tools section between a pewter-surfaced mirror and a collection of small red spheres. Nova snatched the wooden metronome from the shelf and turned away, her jaw still clenched.
She froze, then slowly turned back to the spheres.
There were six of them, all nestled into a tray not much bigger than a shoe box. Nova picked one up and inspected it. The device reminded her of a pomegranate—shiny and smooth, with a plugged crown on one side.
“Hello, mist-missiles,” she whispered, reading the label beneath the box. These were some of the explosive devices she had mentioned to Leroy that she thought could be altered to work with a gaseous form of Agent N, but she hadn’t been able to inspect them yet. The infamous mist-missiles were an invention from Fatalia, who could release an acidic vapor through her breath that would pulverize the lungs of any opponent who breathed it in. Her power was only effective at close range, though, which her enemies eventually caught on to. And so she created her missiles, similar to a hand grenade, that she could breathe her acid into. Upon impact, the acid would be released into the air. Nova could see a thin line around the device’s circumference where it would have split open to emit the noxious vapor.
She wondered if there was any of Fatalia’s breath still inside these bombs.
And she wondered how difficult it would be to fill them with something like Agent N. Seeing them in real life, she was already picturing how she could make it work.
If the Anarchists were really going to try to weaken the Renegades with their own weapon, a dispersal device like this would be far more effective than trying to take out every opponent with an injection dart. Besides, not everyone could be shot. The darts wouldn’t puncture Captain Chromium’s skin or Gargoyle’s.
The Renegades wouldn’t use Agent N in gas form because it was too risky. But if she had that Vitality Charm …
The chime from the front clanged through the vault.
Cheek twitching, Nova settled the mist-missile back into the box.
She returned to the reception area and tossed the metronome at Genissa without fanfare. Genissa stumbled and barely caught the device on a rising bed of ice crystals. She scowled at Nova.
“There you go! Enjoy!” Nova chirped.
With a sound of disgust, Genissa grabbed the Deadener and marched back to the elevator.
“You’re welcome!” Nova shouted after her.
Once she was gone, Nova sank into the desk chair and tapped her fingers against the clipboard. Steal the missiles, or rent them? If she got caught stealing them, it would send off all sorts of alarms. But if she was able to turn them into Agent N bombs, then later they could be traced back to the rental agreement. By that point, though, the Anarchists would be in full attack mode, and this charade would be over anyway.
Her lips twisted. Maybe she should wait and discuss it with Leroy and Ace first.
The elevator dinged again and Callum swept into the room, his expression giddy. “Was there really an explosion?”
Nova tensed. “What?”
“I got paged from security. What happened?”
Panic seized Nova’s gut, but Callum didn’t look concerned so much as curious. And eager, of course. Always so eager.
“N-nothing,” she said. “I was just … um … cleaning some stuff. I think maybe I mixed some bad chemicals.”
Callum deflated. “That’s it? I was thinking maybe you’d uncovered a new magical function for something.”
She shook her head, feigning disappointment. “I don’t think so. Sorry.”
“Meh.” He waved a hand through the air, his expression clearing. “It’s probably a good thing. Spontaneous combustion is cool and all, but not great for the workplace.” He bent over the desk and swiveled the checkout sheet toward him. Nova had noticed that he always checked who was renting the equipment and what they had taken—an argument in favor of stealing the missiles, now that she thought of it. He grimaced. “Frostbite came in? She terrifies me.”
“You’re not completely infatuated with her super snowflake skills?”