Page 143 of Renegades

“Off?” said Simon.

She swallowed. “It’s a fake. This isn’t Ace Anarchy’s helmet.”

Simon’s dark eyes seemed to soften, just barely. “How could you tell?”

Nova looked down at the helmet. She gripped it in both hands again, holding it out so she could stare into the empty face. How could she tell?

“Every description I’ve ever heard, or read,” she started, “said that the helmet had a sort of… an internal glow. But this is just… metal. Normal metal.”

“Copper-plated aluminum,” said Simon, drawing her gaze backup to him. He now wore a wan smile. “I’d heard you were observant, Miss McLain, but I must say, I’m impressed. I don’t know that there’s been anyone that helmet hasn’t fooled yet.”

“But why? Why is there a fake?”

Simon stepped forward and took the helmet out of her hands. He inspected it himself for a second, his lips tight, as if he might be reliving painful memories. “This is what we use when we want to put it on display. It’s a great icon, you know—the defeat of humanity’s worst villain. It’s a visible reminder of how far we’ve come since the Day of Triumph, and how much we have to lose if we ever let humanity slide back to the way it was.”

“But it’s not real.”

Shrugging, he set the helmet back on its stand, adjusting it so that it balanced just right. “It doesn’t need to be.”

“But—” Nova huffed, not sure how he could be so calm about this. She couldn’t keep herself from sounding insistent when she asked, “But where’s the real one?”

“Ah,” said Simon, comprehension filtering through his expression. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

She frowned. “I’m not worried.”

Simon’s eyebrows lifted. Though his olive-toned skin was light compared with Adrian’s, everything else about him was dark. Thick, dark eyebrows. Thick, dark hair. Thick, dark beard. Somehow, it all served to make him seem more expressive, as if whole stories could be told with the curl of his lip or the crinkle of his eyes.

Nova didn’t like it. Standing so close to him, she felt on display herself, like he could see right through her. The thought made her uncomfortable, especially when faced with the oft-invisible man.

“I’m not worried,” she insisted. “I just don’t understand why there’s a fake.”

He hummed, and she could tell he didn’t believe her. “The real helmet is kept under high security in the artifacts warehouse. We’ve never taken it out into public. It’s not exactly the sort of thing you’d want falling into the wrong hands.”

“Why not?” she said. “It’s useless, isn’t it? Captain Chromium destroyed it.”

“Eh…” Simon rocked his head to the side, squinting one eye as if to say this one minor detail might have been a bit of an oversight. “That part of the legend might have been a bit embellished. We did claim the helmet during the Battle for Gatlon. And Hugh did try to destroy it, but…” He shrugged.

“But… what?” said Nova, suddenly breathless. “It’s not destroyed?”

Simon gave her a sympathetic look. “Don’t worry. No one is ever going to use that helmet to torment the people of this city again. We’ll see to that.”

Her fingers grasped at the air, as if the real helmet might be there, waiting for her to grab it. “So… can people go see it?”

“Ace Anarchy’s helmet?

She nodded. “Renegades, I mean. Obviously not the public, but… if one of us wanted to see it, could we?”

The Dread Warden chuckled. “Maybe if you made a really great bribe to the people in weapons and artifacts. I hear Snapshot is a sucker for sour gummies. Hard to come by anymore, those are, but if you find some, she might let you take a peek.”

Nova frowned, unable to tell if he was joking or not.

It didn’t matter, though. She wanted more than just a peek, and he’d already given her so much more than she’d expected.

The helmet was intact. Ace’s helmet was not destroyed, and it was here, in this very building, somewhere beneath her very feet.

Her communicator chimed again. She glanced down automatically, scanning the new message from Adrian.

Seriously—you’re not actually passed out in a ditch, are you?

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