Though the Captain seemed confused by most of her speech, at this, an understanding dawned on his features. “We did what we had to do to stop the villain gangs, to bring order and peace. We would do it again if we had to.”

“Even if that meant doing things that you wouldn’t allow today as part of the Code Authority?”

His lips pinched, and she knew he couldn’t deny it.

“Maybe some of those prisoners did things that were … justified, in some way. Maybe they stole things because there were no jobs back then. Maybe they fought against authority because authority abused and ostracized people like them. Maybe they would choose differently now, if we only gave them a chance.”

“Nova…,” he began, and before another word was uttered, Nova felt her frustration rise, knowing what he was going to say. “I can tell you’re passionate about this, but … you have to understand that the people in that prison aren’t like you. You were innocent. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place. While they are criminals and villains, practically savages some of them.”

“How do you know? How many of them have you talked to recently? Or for that matter, how many of them ever received a fair trial?”

He sighed and glanced around. Nova realized that, standing not far from the elevator bank, they’d begun to draw a crowd. Renegades loitering nearby, pretending to be engrossed in the daily newspaper or something on their wristbands.

“What are you suggesting?” he said, his voice lowered. “That we postpone the Agent N reveal until we can … what, interview them? Or should we devote our resources to gathering evidence from ten years ago, all so we can prove what we already know? They are villains.”

“I’m not a villain,” Nova said, almost believing it herself. “But that wasn’t going to stop you from executing me.”

Hugh flinched.

“And no,” she continued, “I’m not suggesting you postpone the reveal for a while, I’m suggesting you postpone it indefinitely. In fact, I think you should destroy Agent N.”

He took a surprised step back.

“All of it,” she said more forcefully. “Along with any possibility that it could ever be re-created.”

Hugh’s astonishment faded into understanding. “If this is about what happened to Frostbite and her team, it’s important for everyone to know that we are working to ensure the safety of all Renegades—”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” said Nova. “This isn’t about the patrol units or figuring out how to defend ourselves more efficiently or any of that. The world doesn’t revolve around the Renegades!” She spread her fingers wide, surprised at how important this suddenly seemed. She hadn’t come to headquarters expecting to have this conversation, but these thoughts had been tumbling and growing inside her mind from the moment Agent N had first been shown to her. From the moment she’d watched it change Winston Pratt forever. From the moment the implications of such a weapon had become clear. “Isn’t it our responsibility to bridge the gaps between people? To recognize that we all have to live in this world together? We need to start seeing other prodigies not as villains, but as … well, as other human beings, who maybe aren’t so different from us after all. I want to believe that we can close this divide between us, but … Agent N isn’t the answer.”

Hugh was silent for a long time. Longer than Nova had ever heard him be silent, she realized as she tried to read his inscrutable thoughts.

“I know this is coming from a place of good intentions,” he finally said, his voice having taken on a new edge. “I don’t expect you to understand the challenges facing our world or the difficult decisions we’ve had to make, but I can assure you that none of our decisions have been made lightly.”

“I know that, but—”

“Everything the Council has done these past years has been in service to the people of this world who need our help, for protection and for justice. I’m afraid this isn’t up for debate, Nova. Our decision regarding Agent N, and the fate of those villains, has already been decided. And our decision is final.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

NORMALLY, IT WAS easy for Nova to shake off the disappointment she so often felt in the Renegades and the Council. They had disappointed her so many times, beginning when she was just six years old, a child full of conviction that the Renegades would come. A child who had been wrong.

It shouldn’t have been any different this time. She and the Renegades would never share the same principles. Her faith in the Council would never be restored.

She felt foolish to have thought, even for a moment, that things could be different.

She felt extra foolish for the sting of rejection that followed her into the elevator and up to the artifacts warehouse. She didn’t have time to dwell on Captain Chromium’s decision, even if she knew he was wrong. She shouldn’t have let herself care so much.

If anyone was going to help the prodigies of this world—the prodigies who didn’t fit into a perfect mold of what a superhero should be—it wasn’t going to be the Renegade Council.

She stepped out of the elevators into a reception space that was unchanged since she’d been gone—two desks, one messy, one stark. A clipboard with a form for tracking equipment rentals from the vault.

Trying to clear her thoughts, she sat down and searched the database for the Hollow Glass. According to the records, it had not been rented out to a Renegade in years, and was currently available in the vault.

She hoped it was a good sign.

Changing the parameters, she searched for star next. Then jewel, gem, and bracelet. Each term called up a substantial list of possibilities, but judging from the descriptions, none of them were her bracelet.

She wasn’t particularly surprised, but frustrated all the same.

After a moment’s consideration, she closed the artifacts database and instead pulled up the Renegade directory. Magpie was easy to find.

Margaret White. Alias: Magpie. Ability: Asset perception, subcategory: telekinesis.

“Asset perception,” Nova muttered. She guessed that was Renegade speak for “someone who can locate valuable things,” which seemed to be the gist of Magpie’s ability, as far as she could tell.

She jumped to the residence information and frowned.

Current residence: Unknown

Previous residence: Gatlon City Prodigy Children’s Home

She was familiar enough with the institution, which was supposed to be an orphanage, though had also become a dumping ground for kids abandoned by families who wanted nothing to do with their superpowered offspring.

An addendum at the bottom of her profile went on to list a series of petty crimes—mostly small thefts and pickpocketing—for which Magpie had repeatedly received no punishment, it seemed, beyond a stern talking-to.

None of it was at all helpful in getting Nova her bracelet back.

She was scowling at the screen, drumming her fingers against her cheek, when the elevator chimed and Callum arrived. Already smiling, because he was always smiling. And in the second that passed before he noticed her, Nova braced herself to see that smile fall. She knew he had suspected that she was Nightmare after he had tried to stop her from stealing the helmet. She wouldn’t have been surprised if he, like Danna, maintained that air of suspicion. And for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Callum’s opinion of her meant—well, a lot. Maybe because he was the sort of person who was always willing to give the benefit of the doubt. He saw the good in everyone, regardless of whether they deserved it.

She wanted him to see the good in her.

Spotting her, Callum froze, one foot still in the elevator.

Nova, too, went still.

Then—

“Insomnia! You’re back!” He bolted forward and swung himself around the end of the desk. Before Nova fully realized what was happening, he had pulled her out of the rolling chair and enveloped her in a strangling embrace, one that she might have thought was an attack if she hadn’t known Callum so well.

“I didn’t want to believe it,” he said, pulling away. “I mean, I did believe it, because—did you know you and Nightmare are almost exactly the same height?” He placed one hand about head level with Nova. “Uncanny, but not a reason to assume the worst of someone. I’m sorry. But in my defense”—he gave her a mischievous look—“a part of me thought it would actually be kind of cool to be working side by side with an Anarchist. I mean—the difference in perspective, right? What are the odds of that, really? Anyway. I’m glad you’re back. I’ve come to think of you as, like, my artifacts-obsessed kindred spirit.”

She laughed. Not only in relief that Callum didn’t despise her, but also at the idea that she was as obsessed over the objects in the vault as he was. She was relatively sure that no one could be as obsessed as he was. “Thanks,” she said. “I’m ready to get back to work and put all this behind me.”

“Great plan!” He clapped his hands. “Let’s return to our previously scheduled awesome lives.” He grabbed a clipboard from the desk. “It’s been slow around here, what with everyone focusing on rebuilding the lobby and the upcoming Agent N announcement. Do you want to take the desk for a bit, or would you rather handle the restocking? It’s not much … just seven or eight items, if I remember right.”

“I can restock. I don’t really feel like sitting behind a desk right now. I did plenty of sitting around at Cragmoor.”

“Aw, man, I bet that was awful,” said Callum, his expression going distant. The moment of solemnity was short-lived, and then he was grinning again. “But that place has some wicked history. Kind of cool that you got to see it up and close and personal, right? If those walls could talk.” He shook his head. “I’d love to visit it someday. Fascinating.”

Chuckling, Nova took the clipboard from him. “No, you really wouldn’t.”