“Use your impressive strength to break free of those, Captain.” Someone from the stands sent a ball of crackling energy toward Ace. He listed his head and the arena’s enormous display screen fell to the ground, absorbing the blast. “Or have you lost your edge in the ten years since we last met?”

“Go,” Adrian hissed. “I’ll help him.” He released Simon and faced Ace Anarchy, though fear was pounding inside his skull. One cannot be brave who has no fear.

His fists tightened.

“No offense,” said Simon, “but I don’t think that tin-can suit of yours is going to protect you against him.”

“Yeah, Pops, I know. But trust me. I’ve got this.”

There was a pause, before Simon asked, “What did you say?”

Exhaling, Adrian pressed a hand to his chest.

The armor began to retract.

* * *

Nova had stopped trying to revive Callum. She had known it was futile from the beginning, but she’d spent countless minutes trying to stanch the bleeding coming from his abdomen. It was hopeless. She doubted even the most talented of prodigy healers could have closed up a wound like this.

Finally, she stumbled away from his body. No tears came, but she could hardly breathe. She looked around. She’d almost forgotten where she was. The arena was barely recognizable from the place where she had once fought the Gargoyle and earned a place among her enemies.

Death and destruction.

Isn’t that what Ace was known for?

Isn’t that precisely what Callum had so desperately wished to prevent?

There were so many bodies, heroes and villains alike. She spotted a fair number of Renegades hiding behind crumbled walls and overturned chairs, occasionally daring to reveal themselves to throw another attack at Ace, but nothing was working. They were no match for him. They hadn’t been ten years ago, and it was as if no time had passed. The sick, frail uncle she and the others had cared for this past decade was gone in a blink, replaced with the villain the world remembered.

Nova wasn’t sure that she remembered this villain. Who was he?

Either way, the battle had become his show now. She saw Honey on the opposite side of the arena, up in the stands, bent over a couple of chairs as her bees climbed across her body. It reminded Nova of maggots on a corpse, and she shuddered, hoping Queen Bee wasn’t dead.

Phobia was harder to find, until she noticed the inky-black boa constrictor wriggling its way toward the wingless Tamaya Rae, and remembered that the Councilwoman was supposed to be afraid of snakes. Her gut curdled and Nova was surprised at the sympathy that surged through her. She had no love for Thunderbird, and yet … hadn’t she suffered enough?

Dragging her attention away, she spotted Leroy against the short wall that surrounded the field, along with a group of Cragmoor inmates. The lot of them were covered in blood and dirt, watching Ace Anarchy with equal parts awe and uncertainty and, in Leroy’s case, an eager grin.

With her allies accounted for, Nova dared to search for Adrian. She hadn’t seen him once throughout this whole ordeal. Maybe he’d stayed home in silent protest of Agent N and the execution. Was it too much to hope?

She did occasionally catch glimpses of Danna’s butterflies in the cacophony. And yes—there—Ruby and Oscar were together up in one of the commentator booths that lined the top of the stands. The glass window had been smashed, and Oscar was shooting darts of smoke at Ace, for what it was worth. She wondered why Ruby hadn’t joined the brawl on the field. It wasn’t like her to sit out a fight. Either way, Nova was relieved to see them both alive.

But where was Adrian?

She stumbled away from Callum’s body, her legs heavy as lead.

Ace was going to destroy them all if she didn’t stop this. He had his helmet now. They had succeeded.

They could leave.

Why hadn’t they left?

At the end of the aisle, she nearly tripped on a small form that was curled up against the last plastic seat. Nova froze.

Magpie didn’t raise her head, though she no doubt knew that Nova was there. That Nightmare was there. She had her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her face was coated in dust and streaked with tears.

Nova didn’t know what to do. Magpie was a Renegade, an enemy. She’d never even liked the girl to begin with.

But still, something inside Nova refused to let her just walk away.

“He annoyed the hell out of me,” Magpie said with a hiccup. Nova was surprised that she was speaking at all, and at that, not making sassy commentary for once. She sniffed. “But still … I thought, if he had the helmet, we might be able to win. He was obnoxious as hell, but he was always … more heroic than any of us. He didn’t deserve…” Magpie grimaced. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have given him the helmet.”

Nova swiped the sweat from her forehead, no doubt leaving traces of blood in its wake. “It’s Phobia’s fault.”

Sniffling again, Magpie turned her head to Nightmare, her eyes full of loathing. “It’s your fault, too.”

Nova swallowed, hard. “I know.”

She reached forward. Magpie started to pull away, but it was too late. Nova’s fingers brushed her forehead and the kid sank down onto the steps, asleep.

Nova staggered down the rest of the stairs and over the rail. She was too weary for a graceful landing, and instead collapsed when she hit the muck-covered field. She forced herself to stand and keep going.

She noticed him then. The Sentinel, standing in front of the Dread Warden, who was remarkably visible for once. Visible, with his face covered in swollen welts. Ace was speaking again, taunting Captain Chromium, who had shackles binding his wrists and ankles.

Nova could still stop this. Everything had spun out of control so quickly. This had not been what she’d planned, what she’d wanted.

She needed to get to Ace.

“Ace,” she started, but it was barely a croak. How many times tonight had she screamed? In anger, in heartbreak, in denial. “Ace…”

The Sentinel put himself between Ace Anarchy and the Dread Warden, acting like a protective shield. Nova shook her head. He was an idiot if he didn’t realize how vulnerable that suit would be to a telekinetic like Ace.

Except … it was the Sentinel who captured him in the first place …

Then, the Sentinel pressed a hand to his chest, and the armored plates started to condense, the suit folding in on itself. It was like watching an origami doll as it got smaller and smaller, then disappeared altogether into the chest of a human boy.

Nova froze.

The world faded, a tunnel around her vision. Like peering through narrow binoculars, bringing the world into sharp focus, yet being unable to comprehend what she was seeing.

The boy …

The Sentinel …

It was Adrian.

Even as she stared, trying to comprehend, her uncle was lifting a thousand weapons from the debris, surrounding Adrian and his dad with everything from abandoned blades to splintered wooden beams.

“No…” Her voice broke.

Ace didn’t hear.

She staggered forward. She couldn’t quite align the identity of Adrian with the Sentinel, but she could see that Ace intended to kill him. There would be no surviving the attack of so many weapons at once.

She couldn’t watch it. Not him, too. Anyone but Adrian—

“Ace!” she cried. “Ace, wait!”

He didn’t wait.

With the twitch of a finger, he sent the amassed shrapnel flying at Adrian.

Nova screamed.

Adrian thrust out his left hand.

Something erupted from his palm, expanding outward, encapsulating him and Simon before Nova’s scream had broken.

The spears, the daggers, the broken pieces of concrete, all struck it with deadly force and ricocheted harmlessly away.

Nova’s scream stammered and fell silent. In shock. In utter disbelief.

What was it?

A wall of sorts. A protective barrier made of invisible bricks, each held together with glowing copper-colored mortar. It stood like a circular tower around Adrian and his father. A medieval turret, imbued with some sort of force field …

How had he done it?

For that matter, how did he do any of the things the Sentinel could do? He was Adrian. He was Sketch.

Ace, too, seemed surprised. He inspected Adrian through the shimmering wall that divided them. “You are full of tricks,” he mused. “But don’t get cocky. I’ve yet to meet a wall I couldn’t bring down.”

“The tattoo?” Nova murmured, remembering the tattoo he’d given himself on his inner wrist. The castle turret. In theory, I’ll be able to use it to create a barrier around myself and anyone who’s near me.…

She tore her gaze away from Adrian and stumbled toward her uncle. “Ace,” she panted, grabbing his arm. He startled, as if he’d forgotten there was anyone here but his enemies. “We need to leave.”

Through the slitted hole of the helmet, he considered her. “Leave? Things are just getting interesting.”

“Ace,” she said, more insistent now. “You have your freedom. You have your helmet. We all sacrificed a lot for that. We need to take care of our injured. We need to regroup.”

He snorted derisively. “We need to finish what we’ve started.” With a roar, Ace reached one hand toward the sky, then pulled his fist back down.

Steel beams erupted from the walls. Concrete blocks blew up from the floor. A cyclone of stone, wood, plaster, and glass spun through the arena, crashing into the iridescent barrier. Adrian was motionless, his expression hinting at only the slightest bit of fear as his barrier was pummeled from every side, as Ace Anarchy did his best to destroy the wall.

But Adrian’s wall held.

“Ace!” Nightmare yelled, her voice barely carrying over the storm he’d created. “Stop! Uncle Ace, please!”

The chaos shuddered, slowed, and finally stilled. Ace’s expression was still full of vitriol, his face contorted with loathing. “If this is about him—”