Page 51 of Renegades

“Go ahead,” he said. “You’ll have to press and hold for a few seconds.”

Bracing herself, Nova pressed her fingers against the screen. Her hand was trembling, but she did her best to hold steady as a ticker at the top of the screen indicated its progress through scanning her prints.

By the time it finished and Nova eagerly folded her arms again, the man was frowning. He met her gaze again, newly suspicious.

The prints on the screen were obviously mutilated—entire patches of the whorls in her skin cut through with flat, empty planes.

“I burned them when I was a kid,” she said, the rehearsed lie tumbling out of her before he could ask. “You’ll see on my application that I’m really into science—chemistry and engineering, and… um. Anyway, I was doing an experiment. With acid. And… that happened.” She gestured to the screen.

The man’s lips pursed. “Well,” he said, glancing at a second monitor, “they’re not pulling up any matches in our system. So.” He jerked his thumb over a shoulder. “Head on back through those doors and wait to be called.”

Her body stilled. “Really?”

“Really, what?”

“Really, I can just… I can try out?”

“That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?” He peered around her. “Next?”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Nova ducked away from the table and scurried through the swinging double doors.

The room he sent her to must have been a locker room at one point—dank, cold, full of concrete and poor lighting, with the faint aroma of old sweat permeating the walls. The actual lockers had been removed, leaving faded impressions on the walls where they had been, and an alcove in the corner still had drains in the tile floor, though only holes where plumbing and shower heads had once been installed.

Now the room was full of uncomfortable benches and a lot of nervous prodigies giving themselves quiet pep talks. A tinted picture window on one side looked out onto the field, where they could watch the ongoing trials. A current Renegade hopeful was making his way out into the center ring. Tables hosting the teams were set all around the field, and a giant paper banner had beenstrung between two pillars over the middle:DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?

To her right, a platform jutted out over the field, where all five Council members sat watching the proceedings. Even from down here she could see bandages wrapped around Thunderbird’s wing and she felt a spark of pride at the sight.

Last year, Detonator had suggested they stage an attack at the trials, but Cyanide talked her out of it, believing there would be too strong a concentration of prodigies and Renegade supporters for them to be effective.

Seeing it for herself, Nova knew he was right. There were prodigies everywhere. Renegadeseverywhere.It felt a bit like being surrounded by Queen Bee’s hives, if one happened to be allergic to bee stings.

She focused on the field, where the contestant had just revealed that he had four extra arms emerging from his rib cage. The crowd came alive with red signs, the vast majority proclaiming—HERO!

Nova scoffed. Did they really think that extra limbs made you a hero? Or being able to shoot fireworks from your hands? Or even having a layer of chromium beneath your skin?

Heroism wasn’t about what you could do, it was about what you did.

It was about who you saved when they needed saving.

She crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her elbows while the trials went on. Prodigies had come from all corners of the city, some from the far reaches of the world, even, in hopes of being accepted among the elite.

Many were accepted, but those who weren’t… the looks of devastation on their faces almost,almostmade Nova feel bad for them. That’s what they got, though, for putting so much faith into the Renegades.

She shut her eyes and exhaled. The bitterness was pooling on her tongue, filling her mouth with a sour taste. The smell of sweat and nerves clogged her throat.

She did not belong here. She didn’t evenwantto be here. If Cyanide hadn’t put the idea in her head, she doubted it ever would have crossed her mind.

But if she made it—if she became a Renegade—she could make a difference. What could she learn from the inside, about their headquarters, the Council, their plans for the city?

Not to mention her new enemy.

The Sentinel.

Even thinking the name made her stomach tighten, and she thought again of the smug righteousness he’d had on the rooftop when he’d said it.I am the Sentinel.

Gag. Ew. Bleh.

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