Page 144 of Renegades

She shook her head, unable to tell if he was trying to be funny. If so, the humor was lost on her jumbled thoughts.

“Everything all right?” said Simon.

“Oh yeah.” She waved her hand, finding it a challenge to remain composed when it seemed that the foundation of everything she knew to be true had just shifted beneath her. “That’s just the, uh… healers, wondering where I went. I’m supposed to be in the med wing, but… I get restless being cooped up in one spot for too long.”

He nodded, as if this made perfect sense, and started heading back toward the central lobby. Sensing that she was intended to follow, Nova glanced one more time at the helmet then fell into step beside him.

“Adrian told us all about your run-in with Max. That was brave, what you did. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“Max was the one that got hurt. I just passed out for a bit.”

Simon cast her a sideways look.

“Besides, I didn’t actually know what would happen if I went in there, so I’m not sure we can call it brave.”

His lips started to tick upward. “Would you prefer if I said it was reckless and dangerous?”

Nova held his gaze, unable to tell if he was teasing her or condemning her… or if this, too, was a compliment of sorts. Finally, she responded, “All in a day’s work, right?”

Then, to her endless dismay, Simon Westwood laughed. A true, boisterous laugh, warm and guttural.

That was when it occurred to her that she was chatting with the Dread Warden. She had just made himlaugh.

And not once had it crossed her mind that perhaps she should be using this chance to contemplate the best way of killing him.

Which was savvy, she told herself. She had counted the cameras when she stepped off the elevator. She knew there was no way to murder someone here and get away with it.

But still… shouldn’t the thought at least have crossed her mind?

“Do you know how Max is doing?” she said, eager for a new topic of conversation.

“He’s going to be fine,” said Simon. “The amount of blood loss made the wound appear far worse than it really was. Of course, due to the nature of his gift we can’t tend to him with prodigy healers, but even the normal doctors say that he will recover quickly. Perhaps with a scar, but what young man doesn’t appreciate a new scar from time to time?”

They passed the painting of the Day of Triumph and Simon paused to look at it—not admiring so much as thoughtful.

“Perhaps,” he continued, “this experience has taught Max to be a bit more careful when it comes to experimenting with powers he’s not yet fully in control of. It’s a hard lesson for any prodigy to learn, but I think him more so than most.”

Nova’s gaze traced the figures in the painting again. Captain Chromium holding up the helmet that she could now think of only as the impostor, knowing that pike had never been driven through it to begin with. Then she stared at Ace’s body, fallen at the Captain’s feet, and knew that this part of the legend, too, was a lie.

And also—

“Someone is missing from this picture,” Nova said. “Max was there too, wasn’t he?”

Simon did not look at her as he answered, “Did Adrian tell you, or did you figure it out for yourself?”

“A little bit of both.” She tore her focus away from the painting. “What really happened? How did Max get Ace Anarchy’s power?”

Simon scratched his beard. “Well. It was near the end of the fight. We couldn’t bring Max into it before that, because his abilities would affect our allies as well as our enemies. But by that point, Ace Anarchy had separated himself from the rest of the gangs. He was standing up on one of the arcades of the cathedral, attacking those still on the ground. Of course, Hugh could withstand him more than anyone. Realizing this was our best chance, he went and got Max, who we’d hidden in a nearby cellar with a nurse to take care of him. Hugh strapped him to his back and returned to the battle. He’s told me it was the most difficult thing he’s ever done, knowing the danger he was putting Max into, but he didn’t think there would be any other way.”

Nova’s jaw fell open as she listened, trying to picture the scene. The righteous, invincible Captain Chromium… charging into battle with a baby strapped to his back? She didn’t know if she should find the image horrifying or hysterical.

“He scaled one of the side walls,” said Simon, his voice having gone distant. “I remember looking up and seeing him at one point and realizing what he was going to do. Hugh reached the top, and Ace realized he was there. The closer he and Max got, the weaker Ace became, but he was still strong. He still tried to fight. He knew he couldn’t hurt Hugh, so he focused his attacks on Max, knowing that must be the cause of his weakness.” Simon paused, before adding, “I remember how remarkable it seemed at the time that Max didn’t utter a sound—not a single cry.”

Nova shuddered.

“Eventually, Ace lost enough power that he couldn’t keep fighting. Hugh managed to wrestle the helmet away from him—and the moment he had the helmet, it was as if all the fight drained out of Ace Anarchy. A third of the church was destroyed by that point, one side of it was on fire, nearly all the Anarchists were dead, and Captain Chromium had his helmet. He must have known he’d lost. So… Hugh went to finish it, when Ace Anarchy simply… turned and jumped. He jumped from three stories up, right into the fire.”

Nova was looking at the painting again, and found it astounding how a piece of art that had gotten so much wrong could still be here, in such a place of honor. Maybe it was testament to how much the truth, in this case, had never really mattered.

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