Page 135 of Renegades

While she understood this logic, it did not temper her frustration. If she could only get out of here, it would take her about five minutes to hop on a city bus, find some unsuspecting passenger, and use her real ability to put them to sleep. Then she would know for sure whether or not her powers were functional. It would be infinitely more efficient than being stuck here, doing nothing.

On top of that, Adrian didn’t have to stay in the medical wing. They argued it was because he’d already demonstrated that his gift was intact, but Nova suspected he was being given some leeway from the rules because he was, you know, AdrianEverhart.

Nova was grumbling to herself, scanning over the newspaper headlines again in case there might be some she had skipped before but that had suddenly become more appealing in the face of her boredom, when a knock pulled her attention upward.

Monarch stood at the foot of her bed, her fist still raised against the metal framing that held the privacy curtains. “Hey,” she said with a small, uncertain smile. “I heard about what happened last night. Thought I’d bring you a care package.” She held up a paper bag.

Nova gaped at her. For a long time. Longer than was probably polite. It felt like a trap. So far, the only interaction she’d had with Danna was down in the training hall, and she’d left unsure whether or not Danna liked or trusted her.

Finally, she forced herself to sit up, pushing her back against the pillows. She eyed the bag warily. “Thanks?”

Danna started to laugh and came closer, plopping the bag on the mattress against Nova’s legs. “The food here isn’t awful, but it’snot exactly amazing, either. Ruby kept me well supplied while I was in recovery, so I thought I could pay it forward.” She rummaged through the bag, pulling out a few choice items to show Nova. “I didn’t know if you were sweet, salty, or none of the above, so I brought an assortment. Some pretzels, some chocolate, some dried fruit chips if that’s your thing. And most important—reading material. Because one can only read theGazettefor so long before we are left bitter and disheartened.” She reached into the depths of the bag and retrieved four paperback books, each with curling covers and flimsy spines, looking like they had been well loved over time. “One thriller, one romance, one nonfiction”—she lifted up the nonfiction book, which showed a large warship on the cover—“in case you like history. This was my dad’s. I’m honestly not sure if it’s any good. And lastly, my personal favorite.” The final book depicted an armor-clad woman riding a dragon. “Don’t judge the cheesy artwork. The story is genius.”

She stacked the books on the tray beside Nova’s bed.

“Thanks?” Nova said again, not quite sure how to handle this random show of kindness. “Are you fully healed now?”

Danna glanced down, rubbing her side. Beneath the uniform Nova could make out a slight bulge along her ribs, where there must still have been bandaging over the burns.

“Almost,” said Danna, pushing back her dreadlocks. “They say I’ll be able to go back on the field again in a couple days. Just a few more sessions with the healers and I should be back to… well, not a hundred percent, but as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Why not a hundred percent?” said Nova. “Everyone talks about the healers here like they’re miracle workers.”

“Well, they are—to a degree. I mean, having a doctor with supernatural healing abilities is still better than… I don’t know,applying ice packs and calendula oil, or whatever old-fashioned stuff they used to treat burns with. But they can’t bring back the lepidopterans that were incinerated in the flames, and as a result, I’ll always have some pretty gnarly scar tissue happening through here.”

Nova lifted an eyebrow. “You call themlepidopterans?”

Grinning, Danna shrugged, only slightly self-conscious. “Sometimes I worry that calling them butterflies all the time undermines how remarkable of an ability it really is. Like saying, hey, I can turn into rainbows and daisies! Cool, huh?”

The corners of Nova’s lips twitched upward, and Danna seemed to take this as a sign that it would be all right for her to sink into the visitor’s chair.

“But I prefer it this way. Gets people to underestimate you, right? And that’s an automatic advantage. You probably know what that’s like too. I mean—obviously, no one thought you would beat the Gargoyle, which makes the win so much more satisfying.”

Nova dropped the newspaper to the floor and shifted upward in the bed. “Do you ever use your gift for things beyond Renegade assignments?”

“Oh, all the time.” Danna’s grin became mischievous. “When I was a kid I was always sneaking into movie theaters. To this day I’ve never actually paid for a movie ticket.” She cringed slightly and leaned forward. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? That is definitely outside of ourcode.”

“Your secret is safe. But what about”—Nova glanced around, though she could see little of the medical wing beyond the enclosed curtains—“around here? There’s so much going on, so many things the Renegades are trying to build and invent and… research. I bet they’re coming up with things in R and D that would make the Sentinel look like child’s play. Do you ever get curious about all that?”

Danna groaned. “Don’t talk to me about the Sentinel. If I ever see that guy again, I’ll show him where he can put those flames.”

Nova smirked. “I know that feeling.”

Danna brought her legs beneath her, sitting cross-legged as much as she could in the small chair, her knees sprouting over the arms. “I’ve never sneaked into R and D or the quarantine labs. They’re serious about keeping their stuff confidential and even I’m not willing to risk their wrath. But”—she leaned forward conspiratorially—“when I first got here, I used to go sneaking through the air vents into the artifacts warehouse. If you ever get a chance to go inside, it’s amazing. Like a catalog of every awesome prodigy weapon you’ve ever heard of. They have Ultrasonic’s whip, and Magnetron’s shield, and Trident’s… well, trident.”

“And you never got caught?” said Nova, surprised—and even a little hopeful—to think the security on such powerful objects might be lacking.

“I never formed,” said Danna. “I mean, I stayed in swarm mode the whole time, and as long as I keep them spread out, it’s pretty easy for a bunch of butterflies to go undetected. Lots of places to hide in there too. But actually, the best artifacts aren’t even in the warehouse. A lot of people don’t know this, but they keep a small collection upstairs, outside the Council’s offices. In theory, anyone can go up and see them, but without an official appointment, not many people venture up there.”

“What do they have?” said Nova.

Before Danna could respond, Genissa Clark—Frostbite—appeared framed in the curtains. She took one look at Nova and let out a peal of laughter.

“Great powers, I thought they were joking,” she said, placing one hand on a jutting hip. “No one would be stupid enough to gointo the quarantine. I mean, you do know whatquarantinemeans, right, Miss McLain?”

Nova leaned back into her pillows, crossing her legs at the heels. “You’re right, it was stupid. Clearly, when a superhero sees a ten-year-old kid put a glass spike through his hand, the correct response is to hang out and wait for someone else to come deal with it.” She plastered a fake, encouraging smile to her face. “Yay, Renegades!”

“Actually,” said Genissa with a haughty sigh, “the correct response would be to get someone who actually knows what they’re doing. That way, when the experts arrive, they’re not stuck dealing withtwounconscious bodies.”

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