She scanned the room. Her attention landed on a skinny, black-haired boy near the back. It took her a moment to place him, before she realized she’d seen him at the Renegade trials. The boy who could make folded origami creatures come to life.

The Renegades had rejected him then. What was he doing here now?

Her pulse skipped. They had rejected him.

The Rejects.

This was the group Narcissa had talked about, the one she’d been trying to steal the helmet for. These were the Rejects.

But … she still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

“All right,” Nova said, finishing her perusal of the gathered crowd and determining that she didn’t recognize anyone else. “So, who are the rest of you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” said Honey, giggling. “We are the villains of Gatlon City!”

“No, we are not villains,” said Narcissa firmly.

Honey snorted and leaned closer to Nova’s ear. “She hates it when I say that.”

“We are prodigies who have a different agenda than the Renegades,” said Narcissa as her cheeks reddened. “We are prodigies who desire to be who we are and what we are, to live the lives we want to live, without fear that the Renegades are going to show up at any minute and intimidate us and push us around, or even neutralize us with that new weapon of theirs, for no other reason than we don’t want to be one of them.”

“Or that our gangs were at war with them more than a decade ago,” added one of the boys in gold.

“Everyone here was either a supplier or a client of my grandfather’s,” said Narcissa. “When he died, he was holding a book—a ledger, actually. An account of every prodigy and gang he’d had business with over the years. I’ve spent the last few months searching for the people in that book in hopes of forming new alliances, so we might actually be able to make some change in this city.” She hesitated, and for her momentary zeal, started to look a little sheepish. “The Anarchists were in the book, too. Not just the Detonator, but Cyanide and Queen Bee, too. Even you were mentioned once, Nightmare. Given the circumstances, I think Grandpa would have wanted us to work together. The Renegades made it hard, almost impossible, for anyone who had been given the stigma of villain to go on with a normal life, and my grandfather suffered for that. We’ve all suffered. He would have liked to see things change. But it’s impossible to make a change when no one will give us a job or lease us an apartment or even see us as normal citizens of this city. When the simple fact that we are prodigies who aren’t Renegades automatically makes us suspect.”

“Makes us suspect, and makes us a target,” said the man with the fungi. “Did you know only fifteen percent of the crimes in this city are committed by prodigies? But the Renegades put eighty percent of their task force on hunting down prodigy offenders, and all but ignore the rest. If they really cared about justice and protecting the weak, you’d think they’d give a bit more effort to the actual problem.”

“In their eyes, we are the only real problem,” said Narcissa. “We take the blame for everything that goes wrong in this city. All so the Renegades can go on pretending to be big and honorable. ‘Look, we caught another prodigy, one who robbed a convenience store six years ago! Don’t you feel safe now?’ It’s prejudice, every bit as much as the people who used to stone us for being demons.”

“And now they’ve got this Agent N stuff,” boomed a gruff voice. Nova jumped, but couldn’t tell where it had come from.

“That’s Megaphone,” said Narcissa, gesturing toward a group of prodigies that were clustered together, including a man with a grizzly black beard who could not have been more than three feet tall.

“Small body,” he said at her surprise, “big voice.”

And it was big. Though he wasn’t yelling, his voice echoed like a sonic boom through the enclosed space.

“You know about Agent N,” said Nova.

“It’s been all over the news,” said a girl with slitted eyes and a line of reflective scales running down the back of her bald head. “Those three Renegades who lost their powers in a fight against Nightmare. We thought it was something you Anarchists had created—a new weapon to take down the Renegades—but Cyanide told us the truth.”

Nova planted her hands on her hips. “They’ve been developing Agent N for years, intending to use it against prodigies who don’t fall in line with their code. Any Renegade who thinks you’re misusing your powers will be authorized to neutralize you on sight.”

“Let’s not fool ourselves,” said Millie. “They won’t need any new reasons to neutralize almost every person in this room. More than half of us had allegiances to various gangs during the Age of Anarchy, and as Narcissa said so succinctly—it hasn’t been easy to cast ourselves in a new light these last ten years. Our past transgressions will be plenty of evidence for the Renegades that we are a threat to society. I half expect them to make a game of it—hunting down their enemies from the Age of Anarchy and getting rid of us, one by one.”

Nova didn’t respond. She didn’t think that was the intention of the Council, but she knew it’s what Frostbite and her team would have done once they had access to the serum. There would be others like them, more than willing to abuse this power. Regardless of the Council’s intentions, Nova didn’t trust them to defend the rights of prodigies who had once been gang members, or those who still had to fight and steal in order to make their way in an unforgiving world.

Her chest felt hollow as she met the gazes of those around her. She felt a heavy sympathy for this crowd of misfits, who could never be superheroes, but who didn’t deserve to be called villains, either. What chance had they been given to live the lives they wanted? Under the Renegades’ rule, they were still guilty. Still oppressed. Still a threat to be exterminated at the slightest misstep.

She could see their exhaustion, though it was coupled with resilience. They had survived until now, but they were done with simply surviving. They were ready to take matters into their own hands, and they believed she could help them. They believed the Anarchists could help them.

It would be war all over again. Heroes versus villains. A new struggle for dominance.

Nova had believed she was ready for this. They were finally at the precipice she’d been climbing toward all her life.

But it felt different now, staring into the uncertain future. What if the lines weren’t so clearly drawn? What if she wasn’t either a hero or a villain? What if she was both?

“So we’re all here because we want things to change?” she said.

“And because, for the first time in ten years, we have a chance,” said Leroy. “The Renegades are weaker now than at any time since the Battle for Gatlon. The people are losing faith in them. Their resources are spread too thin. They are trying to be too many things, but don’t have the workforce or the infrastructure necessary to make good on their promises. This is a perfect time to strike.”

Nova shuddered, wondering why his words felt so distant and impossible to her, even while the strangers in her midst were nodding fiercely in agreement. Yes, the Renegades’ popularity had suffered lately, but they were still powerful. It would be naïve to think they weren’t.

“What’s your plan?” she said, turning to Narcissa. “You’ve got us all here. What now?”

Narcissa shrank a bit under the attention.

“Our plan,” Leroy said for her, “was to get you back. Now that we’ve accomplished this goal, it’s time to set our sights on the next one.”

Nova laughed. “So there is no plan.”

“These things don’t happen overnight,” said Millie.

“Besides,” said Honey, “Ace was always our visionary before, and lately…” She gave Nova a pointed look, and her meaning was clear. Lately, Nova had been the new visionary of their small group.

Nova exhaled slowly. “I … might have an idea. Something I thought about a lot while I was in prison. Something that might get us all what we need and want. Freedom. Autonomy. Control over our own lives for once.”

“Death to the Renegades?” said Honey, licking some of the honey from her lips.

Nova winced. She bit her tongue, unable to say the truth to this crowd of Rejects and Anarchists, who had been lied to and toyed with too many times.

But if she could make things go her way, then she would avoid another war entirely. She’d never imagined herself thinking it, but … if all went right, then the Renegades would be spared.

“I need more time to work things out,” she said, avoiding Honey’s and Leroy’s gazes, “but for starters … we need to get Ace back. He’s the real visionary, not me, and we’re not moving forward without him.”

It was almost indiscernible—almost. The ripple of fear and discomfort that coursed through the crowd.

Even villains were afraid of Ace Anarchy.

“We’re really sorry that you’ve lost your leader,” said Narcissa, “but Ace Anarchy isn’t our concern. We need to do something about this Agent N. We need to find a way that we can start living our lives without being afraid all the time.”

“We need to take down the Renegades!” someone yelled from the back.

Nova shook her head. “You risked everything to bring me here, and now I’m asking you to trust me. Ace Anarchy is our best hope for success.”

“You say that,” growled the star-eyed boy, “but you’ve had Ace Anarchy at your side for ten years, and none of us even knew about it. We thought he was dead. So what good has he done for anyone?”

“He’s been sick,” said Nova. “His helmet was taken from him during the Battle for Gatlon, and it weakened him. But we have the helmet back now…” She hesitated. “We do have the helmet, right?”

“Of course,” said Leroy. “Phobia’s been guarding it night and day.”