Adrian felt a tinge of warmth in his chest to know that he had done something right, at least. He had been tempted that night—so very tempted—to go after Nightmare when she had run. But he had chosen Max instead. He had chosen to try to save his little brother rather than exact vengeance on his attacker.
Vengeance could wait.
“Well … if I ever meet him, he’ll have my gratitude,” said Hugh, though there was a heaviness in his words. “Even if he does need to be stopped.”
“Stopped, Captain?” said the doctor. “But … isn’t he working for you?”
“Of course not. He’s a vigilante—he hasn’t followed our code from day one.”
“Right. Yes. The media says that. I’d just assumed…” Dr. Sutner trailed off.
“He’s not a Renegade. He’s not one of us.” Hugh’s voice took on an edge of resentment. “Maybe he’s done some good for us, but … it’s hard not to criticize his methods. He should have joined the organization, rather than going off on his own. It’s given people a lot of ideas about heroics and crime fighting, and that’s dangerous when it isn’t left in the hands of the professionals. People have been getting hurt, and it’s going to get worse.”
Adrian wished he could break out his mirror so he’d be able to see his dad’s expression, but he couldn’t use both the mirror and the ear trumpet. Still, he had a feeling he could tell what his dad was thinking. There had been a lot of talk about the Sentinel’s capture of the world’s most revered villain. It felt a little unjust, as Oscar, Ruby, and Danna had all helped him do it and should have gotten part of the credit. But after finding out that Adrian was the Sentinel, it had been Ruby’s idea to leave the Renegades a note for when they came to get Ace Anarchy. It had read,
CONSIDER THIS A
PEACE OFFERING.
—THE SENTINEL
That way, as Ruby explained, they would know that the Sentinel was on their side. That he wasn’t a villain. That they needed to stop hunting him.
Despite her good intentions, though, the note only seemed to have irritated the Council more. People thought that maybe the Sentinel was mocking them by tracking down their worst enemy, an enemy the Renegades had long believed dead. On top of that, the rise in vigilantism had skyrocketed these past months, as news of the Sentinel’s victories over criminals had spread. People were beginning to feel like the Renegades and their code weren’t enough. There needed to be more drastic measures taken if they were ever going to stop the spread of crime in their city.
It would have been flattering, except not everyone was made to be a superhero, and plenty of good intentions had led to civilians being severely wounded. One ambitious man had nearly been killed while trying to stop a carjacking, and an innocent woman had been shot in the arm when an enthusiastic vigilante had wrongly assumed that she was trying to break into his neighbor’s apartment. (In reality, the neighbor had asked her to dog-sit for a few days.)
The more people tried to take matters into their own hands, the more stories like that emerged.
It wasn’t that Renegades never made mistakes, but for the first time since Adrian had donned the Sentinel’s armor, he was beginning to understand why the Council placed so much importance on their code.
“Your staff knows to keep an eye out for him?” said Hugh, drawing Adrian’s attention back to their conversation.
“Just like you asked. There’s been no sign. Though … if he were to come to the hospital, we probably wouldn’t recognize him.”
“I know, but I just have a feeling he will … It’s common heroic behavior, to want to see the people you’ve rescued. I see it in Renegades all the time, how they want to maintain connections with the ones they’ve been personally involved in helping. Something tells me the Sentinel will try to see Max again.”
“Which begs the question, Captain,” said the doctor, sounding a bit hesitant. “How was he able to bring Max all the way here without being affected by the boy’s powers?”
Hugh was silent for a long time, though Adrian sensed it was more because he was debating what information to reveal, rather than mulling over the question itself. Finally, he admitted simply, “We don’t know. There are a lot of things about him that we don’t know. I guess what we do know is that in the course of one night, he managed to capture Ace Anarchy and save my son’s life. In spite of everything … how dangerous he is, how misguided … I can’t help but hope that someday I might have a chance to thank him.”
CHAPTER SIX
IT WAS NOVA’S first time returning to the weapons and artifacts department since the night she’d stolen Ace’s helmet. Her insides were knotted as she rode the elevator up to the warehouse endearingly known as the vault. Her Renegade uniform felt like it was strangling her, the fabric tightening around her limbs, digging into her ribs and throat until she could barely move.
The words on the mirror were etched into her thoughts, and there was a part of her, a big part, that wondered if maybe Honey was right. Maybe it was time to give up. She didn’t really think she could save Ace, did she? Especially not before she was discovered. And now to have some unknown jerk stalking and threatening her made her wonder if it was all worth it.
Though she toyed with her own fate often enough, she loathed the idea that someone else now held her fate in their hands. That simply wouldn’t do.
She had gone over a lot of scenarios in her mind the night before, most of which ended in her discovering who the blackmailer was and dousing them with one of Leroy’s most painful concoctions. Because the idea of giving in to their demands, even if just to placate them temporarily, disgusted her. She was an Anarchist. She was one of the most feared villains of Gatlon City.
She did not placate.
And she certainly didn’t follow the orders of phantoms who broke into her bedroom and left annoying messages.
But every time her anger ran away with her, she gritted her teeth and reeled it back in. She didn’t need retribution right now. She needed time.
The elevator dinged and she squared her shoulders, dragging in a breath until it felt like her lungs would pop.
She was still holding it when the doors opened, revealing the small reception area outside the warehouse—Snapshot’s desk, as cluttered as ever, and the desk that was mostly Nova’s, as barren as ever.
Snapshot wasn’t there, and neither was Wonder Boy, as Nova had taken to calling Callum in her head.
She exhaled and moved toward the desk.
She wasn’t ready to see Callum, though she knew she would have to eventually. Not only because they worked together most days, but because she needed to pretend to pry him for information about Nightmare. It would require a careful dance. Letting him know about Adrian’s suspicions, leading him to believe that, yes, Nightmare might be a spy in their midst, one who may even have had access to the vault. All while keeping his suspicions away from her.
She wasn’t sure she could pull it off. She’d gotten good at lying, but she didn’t know if she was that good.
Maybe it wouldn’t matter today. Maybe she wouldn’t see him. Maybe she wouldn’t have to look him in the eye and force herself to smile, all the while remembering the moment when he had tried to stop her from taking the helmet and she had been forced to put him to sleep because of it.