Captain Chromium settled a hand on Blacklight’s shoulder and pulled him back. He muttered something, but it was too quiet for Adrian to hear.
He had no problem, however, hearing Genissa Clark, who seemed thrilled to have an audience. “I’ve had a change of heart. And now that we’re back, you’re just going to sweep us under a rug, pretend like we don’t even exist? Like we didn’t sacrifice our powers in service to this organization. You can’t pretend that what happened to us isn’t your fault!”
“We’re superheroes!” bellowed Blacklight. “What did you expect, that we’d all sit around having tea parties all day?”
“That’s enough, Evander,” Thunderbird growled.
Huffing, Blacklight crossed his arms, muttering, “Ridiculous.”
“We demand retribution for what’s happened to us,” said Genissa, who had placed herself at the front of her group. She appeared relatively unchanged on the outside—the same flaxen hair, the same cool blue eyes, though her skin did seem to have a mild flush to it that had always been missing before. The coldness of her glare, though, was exactly the same as it had always been. “We joined the Renegades as prodigies, with abilities that belonged to us. But thanks to your carelessness in developing Agent N, and your failure to keep it from our enemies, we’re the ones suffering. There is no replacing our lost abilities, but we expect retribution. You owe us!”
“Perhaps we could go somewhere private to discuss this?” said Tsunami, gesturing toward the elevators. “Our offices are—”
“We’re fine here,” interrupted Genissa. “My peers need to hear what you have to say. After all, any one of them could be next.”
“Genissa, we are sorry for what happened to you,” said the Dread Warden, “in no small part because we hate to lose you and your team. You were one of our strongest units. But you chose to be a Renegade. You chose the risks that come with this life.”
“Actually,” said Genissa, smugly settling her hands on her hips, “when we first joined the Renegades, this risk didn’t exist. Criminals, fine. Villains, no problem. But Agent N exists because you created it. How could we possibly have chosen that?”
“Besides,” said Trevor Dunn, whose flesh had once fluctuated between compounds of stone but now was covered in patches of pink, flaking skin, “I never signed a contract, signing away my life and powers in service of the Renegades. How about you all? You sign anything?” He gestured around the room, and was met with a lot of uncomfortable frowns.
“Of course not,” said Genissa. “A contract would suggest that, if things don’t go well, we might actually be entitled to some sort of compensation for the trauma and suffering. But oh no. We’re expected to fight for the Renegades, to defend the people of this city, to constantly throw ourselves into dangerous situations all in the name of heroism. And we are heroes. Sworn to protect the weak and defend justice. But who is going to defend us? I wouldn’t count on it to be them.” She gestured at the Council. “As soon as they don’t need us, they toss us aside, and I’m not going to stand for it.” She lifted her arms. “And none of you should, either. The Renegades are nothing without us. We are the heart and muscle of this organization, and they need us, more than we need them. I want the Council to recognize that we aren’t disposable trash. We’re Renegades! You can’t take that away from us, too!”
“Look, Genissa,” began the Captain, “we want to treat everyone justly, especially our own. But you can’t rejoin the force as patrol units. It wouldn’t be safe! I’m sure we can find some other role in the organization that will satisfy you. We don’t exactly have procedures in place for this sort of thing. And I’m sorry, but it’s not a top priority right now.”
“Perhaps it should become one,” said Genissa. “And I suggest it becomes a priority fast, because I have my schedule booked full of media interviews this week, and I can either tell them how well the Renegades take care of their own … or I can tell them the truth. And with all the effort you’ve put into this big upcoming reveal of Agent N, well, it would be terrible if the secret got leaked early … wouldn’t it?”
“Great skies,” muttered Blacklight. “You know what—fine! Let’s just let them back on the team! Let them get themselves killed if that’s what they want!” He shook his head. “Non-prodigy superheroes. You can’t possibly—”
“We’re not—” the Captain growled under his breath, but he seemed relatively calm as he fixed his attention on Genissa. “I can’t in good conscience allow you to continue risking your lives when you don’t have superpowers to defend yourselves with. I’m sorry.” He spread his fingers wide. “What else can we offer you?”
This, to Adrian’s surprise, seemed to be the magic question. Genissa cast a victorious grin at her teammates.
“Actually,” she said slowly, “there is one thing that might satisfy our need for … well, if not retribution exactly, then at least a bit of retaliation.”
The Council shared identical, suspicious scowls, but Genissa pushed on. “There have been rumors that the public revealing of Agent N is to include a public execution as well.”
Captain Chromium narrowed his eyes. “That’s true. For his crimes against humanity, Ace Anarchy has been sentenced to death.”
“Why stop there?” said Genissa. “I would argue that his accomplices deserve the same fate.” She lifted her chin, blue eyes glinting. “Nightmare deserves the same fate. Nightmare must die—and I want to be the one to do it.”
The words seemed to be sucked into a vacuum. Adrian felt like the ground had sunk beneath him. Like the world narrowed to a pinprick.
Nightmare must die.
He was sure his dads would scoff at the suggestion, but their faces were stoic and unreadable.
It was Blacklight who spoke first. With a quiet chuckle, he said, “Is that all it will take to quit their complaining? Works for me.”
Simon shot him a look. “These are lives we’re discussing.”
“Villains’ lives,” said Blacklight. “Nightmare doesn’t deserve mercy any more than Ace Anarchy does. She was the one who neutralized them, so it seems fair to me.”
“Think about it,” said Genissa. “The people are losing faith in you quickly. Every day we hear people asking if the Renegades are really capable of protecting them, of serving the growing needs of this city. As the Council, you need to show a united front. You can’t tolerate any prodigies who refuse to act by the code. And you certainly don’t want ex-Renegades like us”—she gestured at Mack and Trevor—“going around telling everyone how weak you really are when it comes to true threats, like Nightmare and the Anarchists.”
Adrian’s vision clouded, darkening at the edges until all he could see was Genissa Clark’s infuriating grin. She was already relishing the idea that she could be the one to end Nightmare’s life. She wanted vengeance for her lost powers.
But the Council wouldn’t allow that … would they?
A hand gripped his elbow—Ruby’s, offering support. It snapped Adrian from his thoughts.
It wasn’t Nova. It was Nightmare. It was a villain.
But still—death? Without a trial? Without any hope for redemption?
“Captain,” said Tsunami, “I am not sure this is a wise course of action. The Council needs to discuss—”
“Oh, wow, I hate to interrupt,” said Genissa, checking an invisible watch, “but we have to get going! Wouldn’t want to miss our interview with the evening news, would we?”
She spun on her heel, but had barely moved before Captain Chromium called out, “We accept.”
“No,” Adrian whispered, shaking his head. Ruby’s hand squeezed tighter around his arm. “They can’t let her…”
He trailed off as, in the center of the lobby, Genissa Clark pivoted back to the Council with a wicked smirk. “Come again?”
“A double execution will take place at the reveal,” said the Captain, his fists clenched as he spoke. “You, Frostbite, may see to the death of Nightmare, who has been our longtime enemy, and a persistent threat to the Renegades and the civilians we have sworn to protect. This execution will be enacted as punishment for her crimes against society and our own.”
“Well,” said Genissa, flourishing a mocking bow at the Council, “thank you for being so understanding. We’ll give your offer due consideration and get back to you.”
With a wink, Genissa and her team paraded toward the revolving doors, pushing their way back to the street, where they were immediately swarmed by reporters who had been camped out on the sidewalk ever since the helmet had been stolen.
“Back to work, all of you!” the Captain barked, his voice uncharacteristically irate. The crowd immediately jumped into action, though Adrian doubted many were going to “work.” Already he could see the crowd dividing into groups, flocking toward the lounges and training halls to discuss what had just happened.
“Adrian?” said Oscar, poking Adrian’s foot with the bottom of his cane. “You all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he said.
A hesitation was followed by Oscar whispering to Ruby, “That’s a no, right?”
“Excuse me,” said Adrian, hopping down from the desk. He shoved his way through the crowd, toward where all five Council members were climbing the newly built stairway to the mezzanine.
“Dad!”
The Captain tensed, and his expression was mildly crumpled as he faced Adrian. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have—”
“Capital punishment? Really?” Adrian gaped at each of the Council members in turn.
“And why not?” roared Blacklight. “Do you have any idea how many thousands of people died at the hands of Ace Anarchy and his minions? It’s about time we started fighting fire with fire. You show no mercy, you deserve no mercy.”