Page 52 of Renegades

He was nothing but a fancy science experiment, but the nature of the experiment eluded her the more she thought of it. He had too many powers, too many abilities for one prodigy. She’d never seen anything like it. And if the Renegades had somehow contrived a way to bestow multiple superpowers on one individual, what would stop them from making an entire army of them?

It was already hard enough to fight against them. For ten years the Anarchists had clung to the last shreds of livelihood and freedom. Nova feared the Sentinel could be the end of life as they knew it.

But not if she could learn more, and find out some way to fight against him, or to destroy him entirely, and anyone else they made in his image.

Knowledge is power.

One of Ace’s favorite phrases, drilled deep into her head overthe years. To overthrow the Renegades, they needed knowledge. They needed to know their enemy’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities.

And if they succeeded… ifshesucceeded…

To no longer be seen as a parasite in society. To be feared would be so much better than this—the sneering, the mocking, the small-minded insults from people who would rather be kept under the thumbs of their idols than be allowed to live free, by their own will and choices.

She opened her eyes again. Could she really pull it off? She would have to spend days or weeks or even months pretending to be one of them. How long would she be able to maintain such an act? How long before they, too, realized she did not belong?

Out in the arena, the crowd went into fits of laughter as a prodigy demonstrated her power—expanding her head like a helium balloon, then floating a few feet above the ground until it deflated again.

The laughter that filled the stands was amused at first, but soon turned toward cruel. It disgusted Nova. Sure, the girl might have looked silly, but could any ofthemdo what she was doing? Did they really believe they were better than her?

The Renegade teams input their responses and the wordREJECTEDflashed across the scoreboard. The girl was sent off the field to a chorus of boos.

Nova felt sick with abhorrence when she heard her name blaring over the loud speakers.

“Next up—Nova McLain! Alias:Insomnia!”

She cast her gaze toward the ceiling. She didn’t have to do this. She could still leave.

Or she could stay and try to do something worthwhile. She could make her family proud.

She squared her shoulders and marched onto the field.

***

ADRIANSTRAIGHTENEDINHIS SEATas a new prodigy stalked into the center of the ring. There was something familiar about her. She stopped beneath the banner and the blinding lights, looking not at the teams surrounding her, but up. At the Council.

It was the stance that struck him first—the way she held herself, like she was preparing for an attack from all sides. Like she welcomed it. The jut of her chin, the set of her shoulders, feet firmly planted on the ground. Relaxed enough, but ready for a fight.

His eyes widened. It was the girl from the parade. The one with the bracelet.

She was aprodigy?

Well. That could explain why she was so unimpressed by what he do could.

Pushing up the bridge of his glasses, he leaned toward Ruby. “What did they say her name was?”

“Uh…” Ruby looked down at the tablet. “Nova. Nova McLain.”

“Insomnia,” came Blacklight’s booming voice. “You may proceed with a demonstration of your superpower.”

Adrian scooted his chair forward, leaning his elbows on the table. His gaze kept darting between the girl on the field and the big screens above the stands that showed a close-up of her face. Wisps of wavy black hair cut just above her shoulders. A sharp nose and a sharp chin and sharp cheekbones, her determined frown making them all seem much too severe. Rich blue eyes, every bit as wary now as they had been when he’d offered to help fix the broken clasp of her bracelet.

The overhead microphone carried her voice as she responded, “I’m afraid my superpower isn’t one that can be demonstrated on a field in thirty seconds or less.”

A quiet titter moved through the crowd. There was something defiant in her voice, so unlike the other contestants who had been enthusiastic, and sometimes desperate, to show what they could do.

“Then please describe it,” said Blacklight. “Succinctly, if possible.”

She answered, simply, “I don’t sleep.”

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