Page 97 of Supernova

“Everyone at their stations,” she said, tightening the straps on her backpack. She abandoned the saw on the rooftop, not wanting the added weight. Bracing her arms on either side of the hole, she slipped her legs inside, dangled for a moment, then dropped.

She landed with a thud behind the lighting operator. The woman startled, but before she could turn, Nova’s fingers were on the backof her neck and she collapsed into Nova’s arms. Nova laid her down on the platform. “I’m in.”

She checked that the spotlight was still positioned on the stage. It was one of four such spotlights, each one currently targeting Captain Chromium, who was at the podium again while the inmates stood shoulder to shoulder down the length of the field.

Knowing that the other three operators would likely be the first to notice their absent peer, Nova ducked back toward the scaffolding that connected the platforms around the perimeter of the roofline and started making her way toward the next operator.

She mostly ignored the Captain’s droning voice, but a handful of words still filtered into Nova’s consciousness as she crept through the shadows.

Villains… neutralized… execution.

She reached the second operator and felled him as easily as the first. Two down…

Below, the Captain was listing Ace’s many crimes against humanity, justifying their choice to end his life in this public manner. “Before we proceed,” he said, “I would extend a dignity that this villain never offered to any of his victims. Please, escort Ace Anarchy to the stage.”

At the end of the line, Ace’s shackles were unlocked from his neighbor’s. The guards prodded him, urging him toward the steps and onto the platform. He fixed his attention on the Captain, who waited for him at the podium. The loathing between the two men was palpable.

The arena hushed. Nova slowed so that her footsteps would make no sound as she made her way to the third platform with as much stealth as possible.

Once Ace stood before the Council, Captain Chromium spokeagain into the microphone. “At this time, I ask my longtime rival, this enemy of humanity, Alec James Artino, if you would like to express any final words.”

He stepped back, offering the microphone to Ace.

Nova swallowed. She wanted to stop and watch, to listen, but she knew there was no time for that.

She reached the third platform, and put to sleep the woman she found there.

One more to go.

Below her, the arena was quiet. Her thoughts shifted to Winston, who was still on the stage, now only feet from Ace. She wondered if the two of them had made eye contact as Ace was brought up to the podium. She wondered if Ace had heard Winston’s story. Would he, like Phobia, see Winston as a traitor, or would he feel the same sympathy that Nova had?

She thought also of Adrian, who she knew was somewhere down in that crowd. She wondered if she would ever see him again, knowing that—if all went according to the plan—the answer would likely be no.

She wondered if she would regret not finding a way to say one last good-bye.

Ace approached the podium. It felt like the whole arena had gone still. Even Nova had to remind herself to keep breathing as she crept along the walkway.

His voice, when he spoke, was brittle and dry from disuse. “As I stand before you…,” he said, his words barely a croak. Nova flinched to think of him as he once was, powerful and strong, a true visionary. Now he was little more than a relic, a memory from a foregone era. “Knowing that my time left on this earth is short, I am faced with an excruciating truth. I once destroyed a world order in whichprodigies were condemned and persecuted by those who feared us, those who could not appreciate our potential. And now…” He faced the Captain. “Now we are condemned and persecuted by our own.” He lifted his chin. “Alec James Artino is already dead, but Anarchy will live on. It will persist in the hearts of all prodigies who refuse to bow before this dictatorship. Our fight is not over, and we will not rest until there is freedom and autonomy for all our brethren. Until we no longer need to fear for our well-being, not from those who fear us, not from those who hate us, and not from those who envy us. The Renegadeswillfall, and we will rise again!”

The fourth operator was reaching for his walkie-talkie, probably confused as to why the other three lights had fallen motionless, when Nova’s fingers reached out from the shadows and brushed the back of his hand. She caught him as she had the others, then released a long exhale.

Phase one complete.

Down below, Ace was being led back onto the field, while a parade of men and women in lab coats marched out to join the prisoners, each one holding a syringe.

The spectacle of it was too surreal. It felt more like a choreographed stage production, like it had all been planned with more consideration for the pictures that would later appear on the fronts of newspapers than for the dignity of those involved.

Nova examined the trusses that held the light fixtures and speaker boxes, a complicated maze of metal scaffolding crisscrossing the ceiling of the arena. She pulled herself onto the railing surrounding the spotlight’s platform, reached for the nearest overhead truss, and hauled herself up the rigging.

Blacklight had the honor of signaling for the neutralization. Allof the inmates were to be neutralized simultaneously, and so he began by counting down from ten. Nova did her best to ignore what was happening below, focusing instead on putting one hand in front of the other as she crawled toward the center of the building.

She did pause, though, when Blacklight reached number one. She peered down through the metal bars.

She could only see the tops of their heads—the prisoners, the lab technicians, the Council. Winston and Ace. She couldn’t see any of their expressions. She was too far away to tell if any of the prisoners flinched as the needles were plunged into their arms.

A second passed. Then two. Ten seconds. Twenty.

Even from her bird’s-eye view, Nova could tell when the technicians began to stir uncomfortably. She saw the Council shifting in their seats, trading looks with one another. She noticed Dr. Hogan checking her wristwatch.

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