He chuckled. “Are you kidding? She’s totally using her power wrong. If I had ice manipulation, I would wear ice skates all the time and make a constant path of ice in front of me everywhere I went.” He pushed the clipboard away. “What did she want the Sound Deadener for?”
“Not sure,” she muttered, refusing to admit that her team had been passed over for the Hawthorn case. “It’s not my job to ask questions.” She paused. “I mean, it’s not, is it? Are we allowed to say no to someone if they want to check out something we don’t think they should have?”
He grunted. “Typically, no. Not if they’ve passed clearance and signed the agreement. But if you’re really hesitant about something, you can ask Snapshot to bring it up to the Council. I only had to do it once, when I was pretty sure that one of the new recruits was using a skeleton key to break into people’s apartments. I’m sad to say that I was right.”
Nova gawked. “What happened?”
“He was taken off patrols and spent a lot of time doing community service after that. He works in the food court now.”
“Lucky for him. If he pulled a stunt like that today, he’d probably be stuck with Agent N.”
“I don’t think so.” Callum rubbed the pale fuzz on his chin. “He was breaking the law, but he wasn’t particularly dangerous. The punishment seemed fitting.”
Nova grunted, but she wasn’t sure if she agreed. Once the public knew about Agent N, they’d be crying for it to be applied to every case of prodigy wrongdoing. And the Council was so eager to hold on to their reputation, she suspected they would acquiesce easily.
And with every prodigy who was neutralized, the Renegades’ power would grow and grow.
“You don’t like Agent N either, do you?”
She started. “What?”
Callum leaned against the desk. “I think it’s tragic. For someone to be given these incredible abilities, only to have them stripped away? It’s so wasteful. To know what this world could look like, what humanity could be, if only we all chose to do our best, to help others, to … to be, well, heroes. I don’t like to think of that chance being taken away from someone before they’ve lived up to their potential.”
“Right,” said Nova. “Except, having superpowers doesn’t automatically turn you into some selfless hero. People are greedy and cruel, and … for some, having superpowers just makes them even more greedy and cruel.” Her jaw tightened. “Genissa Clark is proof of that.”
“Yes…，” Callum said, speaking slowly, as if he were forming his thoughts as he spoke. “But I think that when given the choice to do good or to do harm, most people choose good.”
“And I think,” Nova countered, “that nothing is as black and white as people want to pretend. Doing good and doing harm aren’t mutually exclusive.”
He listed his head. “Example?”
Nova pulled the chair toward her and dropped into it. “I don’t know. Ace Anarchy?”
Callum’s expression turned to delight. “I’m listening. Go on.”
Nova frowned at him. Sweet rot, he was a strange guy. “Well, he’s a villain, right? Everyone knows that. Unquestionable. He killed people. He destroyed half the city.”
“But?”
“But if it weren’t for him, prodigies would still be living in fear. Persecuted, victimized, abused … He created a world where prodigies could stand up for themselves. To declare what we are and not be afraid that we’ll be punished for it. He fought for the rights of all prodigies. Whereas the Renegades only seem interested in defending prodigies who agree to their code.”
“But people were still afraid,” said Callum. “The Age of Anarchy was not a nice time—not for anyone. It was the Renegades who made people feel safe again. So really, it was the Renegades who showed the world that prodigies deserved rights.”
“The Renegades wouldn’t have existed without Ace Anarchy.”
“Do the ends justify the means?”
“Sometimes.”
“Then Ace Anarchy was a hero.”
She peered at him suspiciously. “I didn’t say that.”
His grin returned, and Nova had the impression that this conversation was little more than a fun debate to him. She wondered if he was one of those devil’s advocate types—who could argue on either side, regardless of his actual opinion.
“Follow me,” he said, turning his back on her.
“What? Where are we going?”
“I want to show you something.”
Nova didn’t move. As Callum waited for the elevator to arrive, he shot her an impatient look.
Nova stood. “Fine. But I’d better not get fired over this.”
Callum chuckled. “You and I are the only ones in this whole organization who think that working in the artifacts department is fascinating. Trust me. They’re not going to fire you.”
The elevator arrived and Nova followed him inside. She felt compelled to deny his assumption—she wasn’t working here because the artifacts were fascinating. She was here because she had a job to do. She had a helmet to retrieve.
But then she realized that Callum wasn’t altogether wrong. She did think the job was interesting. As an inventor, she could appreciate the innovation that had gone into a lot of things in the collection.
Still, though. She wasn’t about to nerd out about it like Callum did.
The elevator began to rise, and Nova glanced at the panel of numbers. With a start, she pushed herself away from the wall.
Callum was taking her to the topmost floor, where the Council’s private offices were located.
Tension wrapped around her limbs.
Why was he taking her to the Council? Had he figured her out? Did he know?
She shouldn’t have defended Ace Anarchy. She shouldn’t have been so careless with the electrolysis experiment. She shouldn’t have criticized the Renegades and Agent N.
Nova curled her fingers, feeling the familiar sensation of her power warming her skin. She targeted the back of Callum’s neck. Half a second and he would be unconscious.
Her attention skipped to the camera attached to the elevator ceiling and she hesitated.
“Have you been up here before?” said Callum, watching the numbers flash above the metal doors. “They keep some of the coolest things from the collection on display outside the Council offices, though between you and me, their choices are questionable. I mean, everything has its place, but people are way too obsessed with weapons and warfare. If it were up to me, I’d display something like the Legacy Torch. It may not be flashy, but it played a huge role in early prodigy history.”
As he rattled on, Nova allowed herself to relax.
He wasn’t turning her over to the Council. He was just showing her more of his beloved memorabilia.
Figured.
Prism was seated at an imposing desk when they stepped off the elevator, her crystal skin glinting in the light from a blown-glass chandelier. She beamed when she saw Callum, her teeth sending a dazzling array of rainbows across the glossy white floor.
“Hey there, Wonder Boy,” she said. “Is it already time to change out the exhibits?”