He spotted Oscar and Ruby playing Battle to the Death, one of two standing arcade games in the lounge, there to keep the patrol units entertained when they waited for an assignment. The game was a classic two-person combat challenge, and Oscar and Ruby developed an instantaneous rivalry when it had been brought in the year before. As far as Adrian could tell, their skills continued to be neck and neck, to each of their continued frustrations.
He came to stand behind them as Ruby’s avatar did a roundhouse kick that sent Oscar’s flying offscreen. Ruby whooped and flung her hands outward in celebration, smacking Adrian in the nose. He cried out and pulled back, adjusting his glasses with one hand and pressing the other over his nose.
Ruby recoiled. “Sorry!” she squeaked, though her look of remorse quickly turned into a suspicious scowl. “Except, not really, creepy stalker guy. How long were you standing there?”
“About two seconds,” said Adrian, scrunching his nose a couple times to clear the painful tingling that was running through the cartilage.
“Oh,” said Ruby. “In that case … sorry!” She paused. “Except, still not really, because I totally just beat Oscar’s high score!” She pumped her fist into the air.
“This battle is far from over,” said Oscar, leaning against the machine. “I demand a rematch.”
Ruby popped her knuckles. “You can have as many rematches as you’d like. I am never giving up this lead.”
“Hey, guys,” said Adrian, “where’s the new girl? You didn’t scare her off already, did you?”
“Changing,” said Oscar, jerking a thumb over his shoulder while Ruby deposited a new coin into the machine’s slot.
“Oh,” said Adrian, glancing toward the private rooms, just as a figure emerged from the hall. He straightened. “Oh.”
Nova caught his eye and seemed to falter midstep.
Breaking away from the others, Adrian approached her, tucking his hands into his pockets. He was still in jeans and a jacket himself, figuring there wasn’t much point in putting on his uniform if they wouldn’t be doing any patrol duty.
“How does it feel?” he said.
She glanced down. Holding her bundled street clothes in one arm, she ran her other hand self-consciously down the side of the uniform. “Long.”
Adrian followed the look and saw that the legs of the uniform were puddled on top of her sneakers.
“But I can sew,” she said. “I’ll fix them when I get home.”
“Naw, don’t worry about it. I’ll have the alterations department pull another uniform and amend it. You’ll have it tomorrow, or maybe the next day. They can get backed up right after the trials.”
Nova opened her mouth and he could sense an argument building there, so he quickly added, “We didn’t bring you on to be a seamstress.”
She hesitated, then closed her mouth again, and in that moment Adrian realized what made her look so different when she’d first emerged from the hallway. At first, he’d thought it was just seeing her in uniform, a uniform that stood for bravery and strength, traits she’d displayed at the trials but that were now exaggerated by the bold red R.
But no, it wasn’t that at all.
She looked different because she seemed, in that moment, laughably, almost hysterically uncomfortable. Nervous and maybe even a little awkward, rather like she had when he’d drawn the bracelet clasp onto her wrist. It almost didn’t seem possible that this could be the same girl who had challenged the Gargoyle with unwavering courage. Who had emanated nothing but fierce determination while surrounded by an entire arena of screaming spectators.
“Here,” said Adrian, pulling out his marker. “You need a bag.” He moved toward the nearest table and sketched out a large tote bag. Lifting it from the acrylic surface, he took the handles and gave it a shake, holding it open for Nova to drop her clothes into.
“Thanks,” she murmured, shoving the clothes inside. She wrapped her hands around the base of the bag’s handles, almost as if she were avoiding touching Adrian’s hands as she took it from him. “You sure do enjoy showing off with that trick, don’t you?”
Heat warmed the back of his neck. Had he been showing off?
“Well, it can be pretty convenient … sometimes.”
Nova looked briefly like she would smile, and he started to wonder if she was teasing him.
“Anyway,” he said, gesturing toward the corner of the lounge, “you can put it in the lockers over there while we give you the grand tour.”
A rage-filled scream pulled their attention toward the arcade game, where Oscar was laughing maniacally while Ruby pounded at the buttons. “My controls froze up! That so doesn’t count!”
“Please direct all complaints to the great scorekeeper in the sky,” said Oscar, popping his knuckles in mockery of how Ruby had done so before.
Adrian capped his marker and tucked it away. “Believe it or not, they’re actually really great superheroes.”
Nova met his gaze, and he could tell she was unconvinced. “Did you mention something about a grand tour?”
* * *
ADRIAN HAD PLANNED ON only taking Nova around to the areas of headquarters they used frequently as a team. The lounge she’d already seen, so he thought they would stop by the cafeteria and the training hall, then do a quick team-simulation on the virtual reality floor and call it a day. But the second the four of them stepped into the elevators, Nova’s curiosity surprised him. She wanted to know about the armory and how they distinguished what weapons were housed there versus those that were stored in the vaults specifically intended for powerful prodigy artifacts. She wanted to see the laboratories in research and development, and though they didn’t have clearance to go inside, Adrian caught her craning her head to see through an open door as one of the technicians passed by. She was curious about their forensics work, the investigations departments, Council Hall, and the state-of-the-art prison cells—though here again, Adrian could only describe them to her as best he could; he had never actually been inside to see them himself.
To his surprise, she even wanted to see the call center, located far up on the seventy-fifth floor of the building. Ruby and Oscar gave halfhearted attempts to talk her out of it, explaining that it really wasn’t all that interesting, but Nova’s enthusiasm for the various aspects of the organization, even the dull aspects, was becoming contagious. He and his team spent so much time on the streets, communicating with headquarters through hasty messages transmitted into their communication bands, it was easy to forget just how complex their whole system was. Seeing Nova’s wide-eyed intrigue and trying to answer her emphatic questions reminded him that the Renegades had become so much more than the group of vigilantes seeking to defend the people of the world. They were still protectors, but they were now inventors, lawmakers, and activists. They were working to improve society in a hundred different ways at any given time, and seeing how interested in it all Nova was served to make him more interested in it, too.
Arriving on the seventy-fifth floor, they stepped out of the elevator onto a circular platform that looked over row upon row of computer desks. The surrounding walls were taken up by satellite imagery projected in real time onto massive screens, some showing Gatlon City, others the nearby suburbs or other parts of the country. Green lines, red markers, and digital notes were being constantly added and removed from the screens, and the room buzzed with activity. Phones ringing. Staff barking into their headsets and clacking at their keyboards. People shouting orders or demanding to know the status of various ongoing situations.
A home invasion is being reported in C14—how fast can a patrol team get over there?
That landlord on East Bracken is complaining about the graffiti again—do we have a clean-up crew available?
I need a squad to check out this bomb threat outside the arena. What’s Metalocks’s status?
Metalock is still dealing with that explosion in Murkwater, but we can send Dead Drop.
He says this is the fourth time his s
tore has been vandalized in the past two months. I swear, didn’t we already catch these guys?
We have a situation at the B-Mart on Sixty-Second.… Sounds like a man is getting aggressive over receiving incorrect change?
Adrian leaned his elbows on the rail that rimmed the platform. “We think of this as the nervous system of the city,” he said. “Distress calls come here, the situation is assessed, and a patrol team or sometimes a solo Renegade is assigned to deal with it.”
“Much more efficient than prowling the streets at night, searching for crime,” said Ruby, “which is what they did in the old days.”
“More efficient,” said Oscar, heaving a dramatic sigh, “but not nearly as glamorous.”
“It’s amazing how they could pull this together in such a short period of time,” said Nova. “The laboratories, the virtual-reality simulators, this. How did they build this in just ten years?”
“Nine years,” said Ruby.
“Eight,” corrected Adrian. “They took over this building eight years ago. It was home to squatters during the Age of Anarchy but was abandoned by the time the Council decided to make it their headquarters. As for turning it into this”—he gestured around the bustling call center—“when you have a team full of metalworkers and earth elementals, prodigies who have basic telekinesis skills and superstrength, not to mention one really helpful cyberlinguist, it tends to come together pretty fast.”
“Cyberlinguist?”
“A prodigy who can communicate with cybernetic technology,” he explained. “He’s our tech guy.”
Nova hummed and he couldn’t quite read her reaction. Her gaze returned to a map of Gatlon City, her eyes tracking a yellow dot as it blinked its way down Drury Avenue. “You seem shorthanded.”
Adrian nodded. “It is a problem these days.”
“Then why turn so many prodigies away at the trials?”
“We’re only shorthanded when it comes to patrols. The rest of the system is fine, but we need more people who can be out on the streets, handling criminals and enforcing the laws. So these days we only take on recruits we think will be suited to that.” He frowned. “Though I’ll be the first to admit that the trials probably aren’t the best way for us to be finding new talent, but it isn’t up to me.”
“Who is it up to? The Council?”
“Everything,” Ruby said with a cheerful laugh. “Everything is up to the Council.”
“Pretty much. What we do here, it isn’t just fighting crime anymore, or even helping people. It’s about keeping the city from falling apart again, and for that, we need unity. And … well, as obnoxious as the trials might get, they do bring people together.”
Nova’s gaze continued to dart around the room. “So why do you keep dealing with things like painting over graffiti, or stepping in on behalf of a clerk who can’t figure out the correct change? Why not set up a non-prodigy police force to deal with situations that don’t need a … you know. A superhero.”
“A non-prodigy police force?” said Oscar, amused. “No one would apply.”
“Why not?” said Nova. “That’s what they had before the Age of Anarchy.”
“Because now they have superheroes to handle these things for them,” Oscar said with a mild shrug.
“But it’s their city too,” Nova insisted. “Their lives, their livelihoods? They can’t expect prodigies to do everything for them all the time.”
Her attention switched to Adrian, but he wasn’t sure how to respond. It was true that it would help them a lot to be able to hand over some of the lower-priority assignments to a civilian police force, but he couldn’t help feeling like Oscar was right. With the Renegades willing to shoulder all the responsibility, why would anyone apply for such a force?
Nova’s shoulders sank a little. “Or not?”
“We could suggest it to the Council?” chirped Ruby. “Maybe start inviting people who were police officers before the Age of Anarchy to apply for a special task force?”
Adrian nodded. “I could mention it to my dads when I see them later.”
Beside him, Nova seemed to tense, and a moment later she shifted her weight, pulling a few inches away from him. He hadn’t even realized just how close they’d been standing. He scanned her face, but it had gone unreadable as she scrutinized a map of the Wallowridge neighborhood.
He cleared his throat. “Ready to go see the training hall?”
Nova’s face cleared as she spun back to him, and whatever discomfort he’d sensed vanished so quick he wondered if he’d only imagined it. Her smile was sudden and eager. “Absolutely.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE TRAINING HALL was the only part of headquarters that was kept in the building’s sublevels. When the skyscraper was first built, its foundation had encompassed a massive parking garage. After the Renegades took over, they demolished floor after floor of concrete, leaving only the foundational walls and pillars to protect the integrity of the building overhead. What was left was a vast open space beneath the vaulted ceilings for them to exercise their powers.
Like the lobby and the call center, the training hall was a hub of activity, but all the chatter of the upper levels was replaced down here with movement and action. Renegades launching themselves over platforms, scaling walls, shooting at targets, facing off in large netted-off rings, swinging across an obstacle course of ropes and bars, and—more than anything—showing off their vast array of abilities.
Adrian headed the group as they left the elevator bank, heading down the walkway that passed over the training facilities. He soon realized that Nova’s pace had begun to slow, until she stopped altogether. Adrian glanced back to see her face awash in speechless awe.
He followed her gaze around the room, trying to imagine this was the first time he’d ever seen it. To their right, twin brothers were sparring with quarterstaffs, but one turned into orange liquid and the other into orange vapor each time they were struck. Next to them was a blindfolded boy firing a bow and arrow at a series of moving targets and hitting them dead-center every time. On Adrian’s left, an earth elemental turned the contents of a sandbox into a two-level sand castle without touching a grain. Ahead, there was a woman who transformed into a grizzly bear in the blink of an eye, then charged at a man with great bull horns erupting from his skull. In the distance, a girl had created a vortex above her head and was sucking her opponent toward it, while said opponent used his own barbed hands and toes to grip the floor and fight against the vacuum.
“Sweet rot,” Nova whispered.
“It is a little overwhelming the first time you see it,” said Adrian.
Nova stepped forward, wrapping her hands around the railing. “I had no idea there were … so many of you.”
“The numbers vary,” he said. “Our permanent staff is around four hundred, but we get prodigies from all over the world who come here to be trained for a few months, then leave. We have the best facilities for it, and the best reputation.”
“Trained for what, exactly?”
“To be superheroes,” said Ruby, fidgeting with the wire around her wrist. “What else?”
“And when they’re ready,” continued Adrian, “they go back home and take up the cause of the Renegades wherever they’re from. There are Renegade chapters all over the world now. People who have dedicated themselves to the defense of justice. And it all started right here. Well, not right here.” He cast his eyes toward the tall ceilings. “The Renegades technically started in the Dread Warden’s basement, but that was a long time ago.”
He led them down the narrow walkway that extended across the length of the training hall, two stories over the grounds below. Adrian pointed out different areas Nova might want to check out when she had the chance, from obstacle courses and target practice to sparring rings and a climbing wall outfitted with various materials to mimic different climbing surfaces to an enclosed saltwater pool to row after row of barbells and free weights.
“Just say the word if you ev
er want a spotting partner,” said Oscar. “Ruby and I come down here all the time.”
“Not Adrian?” said Nova, glancing at him.
Adrian cast Oscar a wry look. “I like the climbing wall and the obstacle courses, but free weights bore me out of my mind.”
“He’s intimidated by me,” said Oscar. “He doesn’t like being reminded that I can bench-press way more than he can.”
“That’s true,” said Adrian, shrugging.
They continued on, Adrian doing his best to point out any resources that might be of interest to Nova, except everything seemed to be of interest to her. They had just passed the equipment rentals counter, where a vast wall held everything from nunchakus to snowshoes, when Nova gasped and grabbed Adrian’s elbow. He startled and turned to her. Nova retracted her hand just as quickly, fisting it against her stomach instead.
“It’s that girl,” she said, nodding toward the floor. “The one from the parade.”
He followed the look. “Oh yeah. That’s Maggie. Alias Magpie, because of her, um … appreciation of small, shiny objects.”
Nova drew herself up, cheeks flushing. “She’s a thief! The Renegades tolerate that?”
“Who are we talking about?” said Ruby, craning her head. On a mat below, Magpie was standing on a plank over an enormous tank full of dirt, using her power to excavate increasingly large and heavy metallic items from the ground, as if her small hand held the power of an industrial magnet. “Oh, her. She’s mostly a scavenger, I think.”
Adrian nodded. “There are lots of abandoned places in this city, and she’s helped us find a lot of useful stuff. Silverware, batteries … things like that. It comes in handy, especially while we try to get trade and manufacturing up and running again.”
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