“But—”
“Don’t.” Simon held up a hand. “This is non-negotiable.”
“Are you saying that as my dad, or my boss?”
“Both, and also as someone who cares for Ruby and Danna. They need time to recover, Adrian.”
“Fine, then let me, Nova, and Oscar be a part of it.”
Simon scratched the dark whiskers on his chin. “Is this going to be Nightmare all over again?”
“We found Nightmare, didn’t we?”
“You almost got killed.”
“Yeah. I’m a superhero, Pops. How many times have you almost gotten killed? And you don’t hear me complaining about it.”
Simon groaned good-naturedly. “What now? Why do you care about Hawthorn? It was just another mission, Adrian. You guys stopped six of the seven perpetrators. We got back most of the medicine they took. You did well.”
“I like to finish what I start.”
“Is that all?”
Adrian drew back. “What do you mean?”
“I just wonder if maybe you’re trying a bit too hard to prove yourself these days, after what happened at the carnival.”
Adrian scowled. He hated being reminded of how he had failed at the carnival. True, he had found the Anarchist known as Nightmare, but he had also allowed the Detonator to play him like a pixilated character in an old video game. He had replayed those moments with the Detonator a thousand times in his mind, trying to figure out what he could have done differently to stop her. His hesitation had allowed the Detonator to set off two bombs, resulting in dozens of innocent people being hurt, and Adrian couldn’t help feeling responsible for each and every one of them.
It was Nova who had shot and killed the Detonator, putting an end to her terrorism. If Nova hadn’t been there, Adrian didn’t know what might have happened. He should have done more to stop her. He should have figured out sooner that killing the villain would deactivate the explosives.
Maybe it was because he had the Gatlon code authority echoing in his thoughts. Killing an adversary should always come as a last resort.
Nova had recognized that they were at the last resort. She did what needed to be done.
Why hadn’t he?
“I’m sorry,” said Simon, squeezing Adrian’s shoulder. “That was thoughtless of me. You and Nova both handled yourselves well, given the circumstances. I’m sorry you couldn’t save Nightmare, but no one regrets that we no longer have to worry about the Detonator.”
“Save Nightmare?”
Simon lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Adrian’s shoulder jerked and Simon dropped his hand. “I wanted information on my mother and her murder. I thought Nightmare might have that information. It had nothing to do with saving her. So she’s dead—it’s not exactly a tragedy.”
“Right. That’s what I meant. And I know … regardless of who she was and the things she’d done, her death was a disappointment to you. To all of us, if she truly did have information that would have solved Georgia’s murder.”
Disappointment didn’t begin to describe how Adrian felt at losing that tenuous connection to his mother’s killer. He knew Nightmare wasn’t the murderer—she was far too young for that—but he was convinced that she had known who it was. Even now, months after he had fought Nightmare on the rooftop overlooking the parade, her words often echoed through his head.
One cannot be brave who has no fear.
The same words that had been found on a small white card on his mother’s body, after she fell seven stories to her death.
“Yeah, well, I’m not giving up on finding my mother’s killer. Nightmare was an Anarchist. If she knew something, then maybe another Anarchist will, too, or another villain who was around at the same time.”
“Someone like Hawthorn?”
Adrian didn’t try to disguise his bemused grin. “Was she around back then? I haven’t had time to confirm that yet.”
Simon lifted a finger, nearly jutting it against Adrian’s nose. “I’m only going to say this once, Adrian. Do not try to go after Hawthorn by yourself. Or any of the Anarchists, for that matter. You understand? It’s dangerous.”
Adrian pushed up his glasses and opened his mouth to speak.
“And don’t try to tell me that dangerous is how superheroes are supposed to operate.”
Adrian snapped his mouth shut.
“We have methods in place for a reason,” Simon continued. “To help mitigate threats and damage. If you hear something about Hawthorn or any other villain, you call it in and wait for instructions. I want to find out who killed your mother as much as you do, but I’m not about to lose you in the process.”
Adrian forced himself to nod. “I know, Pops. I’ll try to be less … reckless.”
“Thank you.”
Adrian pressed his lips into a thin smile, biting back the words he really wanted to say. The suspicions that had been filling his head for weeks.
Despite the bomb that had supposedly killed her, despite the amount of destruction that had been wreaked at the carnival fun house that day, despite the fact that Adrian himself had witnessed the fight between Nightmare and the Detonator … despite everything, he had doubts.
His dads would call it denial. His team would call it his typical, uncanny optimism.
But Adrian couldn’t help it.
The truth was, he did not believe that Nightmare was dead.
CHAPTER FIVE
ADRIAN AND THE TEAM had been left off the patrol schedule for the rest of the week, owing for time to “recover from injuries and trauma,” so there was no reason to head into Renegade Headquarters in full gear today. Normally he wouldn’t have had to come in to headquarters at all, except that morning the Council had sent out a global communication to all Renegades in the Gatlon City division, requesting their presence at a mandatory meeting.
It was a mysterious message. Adrian couldn’t recall there ever being a meeting for the entire organization. Sometimes they implemented new rules in the code and summoned the patrol units to discuss them, or had department meetings with the administration, or the research and development teams, and so on—but everyone?
Unfortunately, his dads had already gone when he woke up, so there was no hope of needling information out of them.
Adrian turned a corner, walking beneath a strip of construction scaffolding as he approached the north side of headquarters. It was an overcast morning and the top of the building was lost in clouds, making the skyscraper appear endless.
His attention caught on a vehicle parked at one of the side entrances. It was an armored van, its back doors heavily fortified, and its sides lined with short, tinted windows. The side of the van read CRAGMOOR PENITENTIARY: PRISONER TRANSPORT.
Adrian slowed to a stop. Cragmoor was a prison located off the coast of Gatlon City that had been built to hold prodigy criminals, as most civilian prisons weren’t sufficiently equipped to handle a wide array of extraordinary abilities.
Maybe they were picking up a prisoner from one of the temporary holding cells inside headquarters. Although transfers like that were generally made at night, when the streets were empty of curious onlookers.
He continued walking, gazing into the windows of the van as he passed. He couldn’t see into the back at all, and the driver’s and front passenger’s seats were empty.