Chapter Text
Adrian hated the Renegade Parade.
And yet somehow, he found himself stuck in the middle of a crowd who very loudly felt the opposite.
“Have I mentioned this is awful?” he muttered, arms folded tightly into his chest.
“A time or two,” Ingrid’s voice crackled over the comms.
“Because it’s awful.”
“You two need to focus,” said Phobia. “We have a job to do.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Adrian muttered under his breath, tracking the villain float with his eyes. There were only a few actors that he recognized without having to wrack his brain — Phobia being one of them. He swallowed back the grin that threatened when the actor opened his cloak to reveal bright green trunks. He heard Ingrid snort.
“Hey, Aje,” she said, using the nickname she’d been calling him since he was six. They’d agreed that was the name he’d use in the field out of the suit until he came up with a better one. And he was going to come up with a better one; “Aje” was fine for a little kid, but he was a grown man, and a full-fledged Anarchist. “Think you could replicate that costume for Phobia?” Despite himself, he grinned.
“I’m not much of a fashion designer. Besides, maybe seeing him in that is my biggest fear.”
Phobia hissed in his ear, and Ingrid cackled.
A yell stuck out to him from the boos being directed at the villain float, and Adrian’s head snapped around. It seemed like someone was pushing through the crowd, with someone else in hot pursuit. Both the runner and the chaser were too short for him to be able to see who they were.
“Something’s happening,” he muttered.
“What?” Ingrid said.
“How many of us here today?” he asked, preparing for a potential fight.
“Sorry, sorry!” came a girl’s voice from the general direction of the commotion.
“What?” Ingrid said. “Three. You, me, and Phobia. What’s going on down there?”
Adrian nodded to himself, and with the confirmation that this wasn’t an ally, reached out deftly as the runner tried to dart by him. He caught them around the wrist, and they yanked themselves to a stop. A young girl with dark hair and a domino mask glared up at him.
“Watch your step,” he said. “It’s not nice to push.”
“Aje, what’s happening?”
“I’m so sorry,” an older girl said, skidding to a stop in front of him. “She’s with me,” she said, as though Adrian couldn’t tell from their comparable coloring.
“Your sister?” he asked. The little girl tugged at her arm again. He didn’t let go, keeping his focus pinned on the girl who’d been chasing.
She was pretty. Really pretty, actually. Familiar-looking, too, though he didn’t know where from. There was no way he would have seen her around the subway tunnels. She was also really short, though she seemed to be about his age. She offered him a smile and extended her arm, and he handed over the little girl.
“No, actually,” she said. Her smile flickered a little, weirdly. “Just my problem.”
The little one sneered.
“Did you take anything from him?” she asked, unfazed by the steel-melting glare she was getting.
“Whose sister?” asked Ingrid.
“He didn’t have anything worth taking,” grumbled the little girl. She got a small shake for her trouble.
“I’m really sorry about her.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!”
“Clearly, that’s not true,” Adrian said. “It’s not nice to take things from people, either.”
“Are you getting robbed?” Ingrid asked in alarm.
“Sorry again for all this. Thanks for your help,” the older girl said.
“It’s fine. Glad I could help.”
“Aje, you need to get out of there,” said Phobia. “It’s almost time.”
“Roger,” he murmured.
“I’m Nova,” she replied. “Nice to…”
But Adrian was already leaving.
“Anyone wanna clue me in on what just happened?” Ingrid asked.
“Got intercepted by a couple civilians,” he said, weaving through the crowd. “Not a problem.”
“Was she cute?”
His silence was apparently enough answer for Ingrid, who laughed.
“Sorry to cockblock.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Don’t be too upset, Aje,” Phobia said slyly. “This is about to be your big moment.”
•••
Nova watched the mysterious guy disappear into the throng of moving people, all shoving for a better look at the villain float. She barely restrained a sigh.
“Really whiffed it there, huh?” said Maggie.
“Shut up,” Nova said without heat.
“For all your public speaking skills, you suck at private speaking.”
Nova scoffed a small laugh. They were still holding hands, which was brought back to her attention when Maggie tried to escape. “Uh-uh. You and I are gonna have a talk.”
She groaned in a way that was unique to preteen girls. Or maybe it was just a Maggie thing. “I hate our talks.”
“Aw, I love you, too, Mags,” Nova chirped.
The noise of the crowd shifted to deafening cheers, and Nova immediately looked over her shoulder. They were here.
“Talk postponed,” she said. Maggie wriggled free and darted back where they’d come from. “Postponed! Not canceled!” Nova yelled after her.
It wasn’t long before her attention shifted from Maggie to, like everyone else in the crowd, the Council float.
Her dads, of course, stood near the top. Tamaya, on the pedestal closest to the ground, caught her eye and sent a flash of harmless lightning her way with a wink. She couldn’t help a smile, and waved to her dads.
Hugh beamed down at her and waved back. Nova was pretty sure at least three people surrounding her swooned. Nova’d had an interesting time grappling with the fact that her adoptive fathers were the icons they were. Obviously, the last thing any kid wants to hear about is how strong and strapping and svelte their dad is, and Nova was never any exception to that rule. She’d learned to laugh at the reactions he inspired. After all, this was the same man who’d broken down in tears trying to learn how to French braid her hair when she was eight. Simon had pictures.
A flash of something caught her eye, and her heart went cold. Right — there, tucked into the back of Kasumi’s pedestal. It was blue, but not the same as the sparkle of the water she spun over her head. If she didn’t know any better, she might think it was…
Eyes going wide, Nova turned and cupped her hands over her mouth. “Everybody get down! There’s a - !”
The explosion cut her off, and Nova ducked into a crouch, wrapping her arms over her head. Dust swirled around her like a furious ghost, and she tucked her nose into the crook of her elbow. She pushed her fear for her dads down. Simon had been up on Hugh’s platform — there was no way they wouldn’t have been looking out for each other. Her ears were ringing, but as noise filtered back in, she could tell someone was screaming. Wailing, more like.
Keeping her nose in her elbow, Nova stood again, squinting against the dust. The floats had ground to a halt, with each of the Council members ready to fight. They looked every inch as formidable as they had when Nova was a kid.
Evander was lighting up, regaining some of the visibility stolen by the dust cloud. Tamaya’s wings beat powerfully, clearing the air around her but having the unfortunate effect of blowing dust right into some poor woman’s face. Kasumi was already in action, helping a little boy who was near tears stand up and presumably murmuring kindly to him. Hugh was obviously fine, and Nova breathed a little easier seeing a clear space the size of Simon’s hand resting on his shoulder.
She picked her way through the debris to get to them, maybe a little less carefully than she otherwise would have. But she had recognized that bomb.
“Dad!” she yelled, and it almost sounded like her hearing was back to normal. Hugh’s head twisted, and she caught the flash of relief across his face to lock eyes on her. He gripped her upper arms to steady her when she reached them.
“Nova,” he said. “Find your unit. Assess the situation. You need to locate the injured and get the civilians somewhere safe.”
“That was one of the Detonator’s bombs,” Nova panted. She knew she was probably sucking float debris into her lungs, but she couldn’t bring herself to steady her breathing.
The Detonator. An Anarchist.
The Anarchists were the ones who murdered her family. Hugh said it had been ordered by Ace Anarchy himself. Nova’d spent many shameful, sleepless nights up poring over any records she could find of the Anarchists. Not just the ones confirmed to be alive, but any of the ones who were never confirmed dead. It was irrational and anxiety-based, but she had to do it. Just in case.
And now, one of the Detonator’s bombs had gone off right under her dads’ feet. The Detonator was here. An Anarchist was here.
She used to have — not nightmares, more like nighttime panic spirals — about being hunted down by the remaining Anarchists, who’d realized that they didn’t actually kill her along with Mama and Papa and Evie. She would stay frozen in place for hours until Hugh or Simon found her wherever she’d hidden and wiped the tears gently from her face. Eventually, she switched to doing combat training when she got panicky about things like that. Or research. But combat training was better. Less stillness.
And she wasn’t sitting still now. Now, when there was an Anarchist around somewhere, causing chaos. Nova had to do something.
Hugh hadn’t said anything, and she saw his brow furrow. In a split second, she knew he didn’t believe her.
“Pops,” she pleaded, turning to empty air where Simon materialized moments later. “I know what I saw. That wasn’t a mechanical failure or a leaky gas line.”
“We have to investigate,” he said. “And we will. I know how you feel about the Anarchists, but right now, we need all hands on deck for rescue. Okay?”
She twisted her lips up, still blinking dust out of her eyes.
“Nova. Okay?”
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. Hugh squeezed her arms, and Simon pressed a kiss to her surely grimy forehead.
“We spotted Danna and Ruby a couple blocks back,” Hugh said. “They’re probably looking for you. Go. Be safe.”
“I will. Love you,” she said, and ran the way he’d indicated.
She pulled her wristband to her face. “Smokescreen, Red Assassin, we’ve been put on search and rescue. Locate and stabilize wounded civilians and get everyone to safety. Organize triage if time. Monarch, get to the air and try to track down the most gravely injured outside of the epicenter. See if you can pinpoint…” she hesitated for a second, then forged on. “See if you can pinpoint the location of the Anarchist known as the Detonator. If you find her, send a ping to me and Captain Chromium or the Dread Warden.”
She dropped her wrist and kept running. The dust was getting clearer the further she was from the initial explosion site, but she couldn’t let her guard down. If Nova were an Anarchist, she’d organize several waves of strikes to disorient her enemies. She’d also probably leave a long time between the first and second waves to lull them into a false sense of security. Another bomb could go off any minute now.
She ran up another stalled float like a ramp and vaulted over the top, landing heavily on the side of an overturned tour bus. She would have kept going if it weren’t for the tiny, stifled sounds of fear from the bus below her.
Nova paused to look down. In the window between her feet, she could see children huddled together, eyes wide with fear and hands pressed to their mouths. The oldest among them could be no older than twelve.
“It’s okay!” she called down to them, unsure if they could hear her. “I’m a Renegade!”
Hope dawned in a few eyes. Warmth rose in Nova’s chest.
This was her favorite part of the job, she thought as she leapt down to find the emergency exit on the bus roof. She wrenched it open and light cascaded in, shining onto grateful faces. Nova saw her own face in them.
“Come on!” she said.
The kids poured out of the bus, chirping exhausted thank-yous to her as they passed. A frazzled-looking young man Nova assumed was their teacher nearly collapsed when he took one step beyond the bus. She barely needed a look to know his ankle was badly twisted, and she didn’t hesitate to push her shoulder under his arm and support him.
“Thank you,” he gasped.
“Don’t mention it,” she replied. With her help, the teacher limped over to a relatively intact piece of curb, though this damage looked like it had occurred many years ago, rather than a matter of minutes.
“You’re…” he trailed off.
“Nova!” Ruby skidded across the asphalt to get to her. “We didn’t know where you were! We thought—”
“I’m fine, Red Assassin,” she said, conscious of the reverent little gazes on them and, pridefully, wanting to seem… cool. “Have you and Smokescreen started evacuating civilians?”
The slightest twitch of Ruby’s cheek let her know that she was not as slick as she thought she was, but her teammate straightened anyway. “Of course. Monarch’s in the sky. We’ve only encountered mobile wounded so far, and Smokescreen is directing them to the hospital.”
“Good. Make sure to — duck!” Nova tackled Ruby to the ground, shoving her arm out before the other girl’s head could smack against concrete.
Above them, golden strings dangled tauntingly from a massive shadow. Nova squinted up, barely able to make out a shock of red hair and a pealing laugh. Her heart dropped.
The Puppeteer had invited himself to the party.
“Don’t touch the strings!” she shouted above the noises of newly-frightened children. “Stay away from the strings!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see one girl frantically scooting away from one strand that seemed to be toying with her. When she got caught on an uneven edge, it pressed forward to wrap around her neck. Fear flashed in her eyes for only a moment, before it was replaced by rabid fury, and —
Nova was there, pressing a hand against the girl’s forehead. Her power rolled through her, maybe stronger than she would have let it if she’d felt confident there was an end to this battle in sight. But she couldn’t risk this girl waking up and becoming a weapon in the hands of a villain.
She quickly located and rendered unconscious the other three children in the group who’d been taken by the Puppeteer. Another Anarchist, said the anxious part of her brain that sounded an awful lot like a six-year-old. Maybe they are coming for you.
Nova shook off the panic, turning again to Ruby. “I’m taking a quick sweep. If the Puppeteer’s gotten to anyone else, I’ll handle it. You and Smokescreen regroup, with Monarch if you can. This may have become a fight, but until I contact you, focus on rescue. I gotta go find my dads.”
Ruby nodded sharply. “See you, Dreamcatcher.”
“See you,” Nova echoed, then took off in the direction she’d last seen the Council.
At least two Anarchists, maybe more. This was really bad.
Four of the Council members were fighting the Puppeteer’s minions when she got there, with Tamaya missing. It was kind of horrific, watching her dad wrestle a four-year-old who was foaming at the mouth. Nova darted in and out of grapples quickly, needing only a heartbeat to press her power into the back of a hand, the nape of a neck. One of the little pipsqueaks bit her, and she pushed her power through the contact of her flesh to their gums. That one was rough.
“Nova,” Simon said, breathing a sigh of relief to extricate himself from where he’d been struggling against a little girl with ribbons in her hair, now sleeping sweetly.
“The Puppeteer’s here,” she pointed out. He sighed.
“I noticed.”
“Two Anarchists.” Nova bit her lip hard. “Something’s not right here.”
“We’ll keep searching,” Hugh promised, staggering to his feet. “Find anyone else injured by the explosion. The Puppeteer gets bored easily; he’ll leave and we’ll protect those kids. It’ll be okay, Nova.”
“No,” she murmured. “If they wanted to hurt us, they’d have had something planned. And what? An explosion in the middle of the Renegade Parade? A Puppeteer strike?” She shook her head.
“Something’s going to happen. I don’t think they wanted to hurt us. Not yet. I feel like… maybe we’re being drawn in.”
“For what?” asked Simon. “Another bomb?”
“I don’t know,” Nova started to say, but was cut off by a blood-curdling scream.
She and her dads turned in unison to see Tamaya Rae, the Thunderbird, falling from the sky. Her wings flapped uselessly, and for a moment, Nova had a terrified vision of seeing her body broken on the road. Just like —
Hugh leapt forward to catch Tamaya, setting her back on her feet. She looked shaky, but whole.
A chill swept over Nova. She had the worst feeling that she was probably right.
A tornado of black smoke started on the street, maybe thirty feet away. It picked up quickly, and soon, it nearly took up the whole width of the street. Nova squinted against the wind it formed. Hugh put up an arm to shield her and Simon.
Just as quickly as it had started, the tornado stopped. In its place, flanked by a hooded figure carrying a scythe (Phobia, her mind supplied), was some sort of… robot?
It was like a mannequin made of metal, or a really gnarly full-body armor set. It was completely still, with an unnerving slit in the headpiece that stared ahead at her and her dads. Nova couldn’t immediately tell how it could be donned or removed, and that made her want to get her paws on it. She had just about worked up the courage to take a step forward when the helmeted head lifted its chin. It was the slightest of movements, but where before whatever this was had seemed dull and almost lifeless, now it seemed… righteous. Heroic, even. Nova was reminded stalwartly of an old superhero comic. The only thing that ruined the effect was the acid-green A spray-painted on its chest.
“Who are you?” she called out, risking the step forward anyway. She could practically hear Hugh’s teeth grinding behind her. The robot cocked its head to one side, like it was assessing her.
“I am the Grotesque,” it responded. Its voice was robotic and metallic, maybe a touch deeper than she would have anticipated. Still, Nova couldn’t stifle a guffaw.
“The Grotesque? Seriously?” The robot didn’t move. “Rough name, dude.” She glanced over her shoulder at Simon. “Hey, I bet you five dollars this guy’s got some serious daddy issues on him.”
Nova didn’t have a chance to blink before the robot’s fist was pointed at her and there was a flash of light.
•••
Nova Everhart was blasted back several feet until she hit the overturned Council float, where her chin dropped to her chest. Adrian lowered his arm.
Note: tell Leroy the concussive beam works. Like I said it would.
Captain Chromium roared in rage. And also…
“Fear,” Phobia confirmed. “Yes. He’s afraid to lose his daughter.”
Captain Chromium’s daughter. Adrian was a certifiable idiot. Of course Everhart Junior and her blinding blue eyes would be in magazines, along with dear old Billion Watt Grin Dad. Obviously, she had looked familiar.
The man didn’t seem willing to take his eyes off Adrian for long enough to go to his adopted daughter, despite the furious heaving of that famous blue-spandex-covered barrel chest. Wise choice. The success of his concussive beam against one Renegade had Adrian itching to try again. Although he wasn’t arrogant enough to think his creation would be enough to kill Captain Chromium, he wouldn’t lie and say he hadn’t hoped for it.
The Dread Warden was nowhere to be seen, which meant he was creeping around invisible somewhere. But Adrian had planned for this.
He reached a hand up to his visor and pressed an undetectable switch on his right temple. The overlay of his vision was filled with information, anything he’d been able to think of. It had originally been conceived as a defense against Blacklight, if he ever tried to blind him. But as Adrian scanned through the heat-seeking layer, it was serving the double purpose of leading him right to the Dread Warden.
He was closer to them than Adrian liked, so he lifted his other arm and shot a blast of fire his way. It was a feeble thing, more meant as a warning than anything else, but the Warden cried out and fell back. He’d caught the edge of that stupid black cape.
Captain Chromium tensed, and it was obvious that it was taking all of his willpower not to bound over and snap him like a twig over his knee. Adrian almost wished he would.
“What do you want?” he seethed. Adrian grinned behind the helmet. Oh, he’d been hoping that was what he would ask.
“Anarchy,” he responded simply.
Before the Captain could respond to that stunningly excellent one-liner, Adrian was distracted by the flutter of wings behind him. For a moment, he thought it was Thunderbird, but she was still grounded next to her coworkers. Instead, he turned to see a swarm of monarch butterflies coalesce into a young woman with long blonde dreadlocks, wearing the Renegade uniform. Monarch dropped into a fighting stance, narrowing her eyes at him.
“We’re not going to let that happen,” she hissed.
Phobia burst into a flock of crows that reared up behind Adrian, and the girl paled. Her fists dropped slightly, and Adrian pressed the advantage. As Phobia’s newfound form swirled around them to disorient, he charged at her.
Tackling the Renegade around the middle, he shoved her up against the closest building’s brick facade. She grimaced from the impact, but her face morphed into horror as Adrian let his left hand grow hotter through the suit’s glove.
A war cry interrupted his train of thought, and Adrian looked to his right just in time to be assaulted by Red Assassin. She was swinging down at him, and the wire of that damned grappling hook snagged around his helmet. Before he could reach up to burn it away, it slid down and bit into his neck.
He yelped embarrassingly, scrabbling for the wire. Stupid fat armor fingers, he thought fruitlessly. Red Assassin yanked savagely on the two ends of the wire, hauling Adrian backward away from the wall and off of Monarch.
Using the momentum Red Assassin had given him, Adrian kept stumbling towards her. He kicked out with one leg, sending her feet flying out from under her and loosening her grip on her hook. He freed himself from the wire while she was gasping for air, letting himself only briefly massage his throat. Phobia was gone, probably handling Tsunami or one of the other Council members. Meanwhile, here Adrian was, struggling to hold his own against two members of a patrol team. He could almost hear Ingrid laughing.
•••
“Get me in,” Nova said to the blackness.
“Nova? Nova!” said the blackness, sounding a lot like Hugh.
“Get me in,” she said, louder. She realized her eyes were closed. She opened them. Oh, there was Hugh. He looked like she was dying or something.
“It’s okay,” he said.
“Get me in,” she slurred. She realized she actually hadn’t been speaking the other times. “Get me in there.”
“What?”
Nova tipped her head over to where Ruby and Danna were fighting the Grotesque. Her teammates were holding their own, and she felt a swell of pride.
“Put me in there,” she said again. “There’s a human under that suit. Get me close enough, I can get him.”
“How do you know?”
Nova paused. She didn’t, actually.
“Get me in.”
“No.” That was Simon. He appeared over Hugh’s shoulder, slightly singed. He glanced worriedly over at the fight, but neither of her dads made a move to leave.
It wouldn’t have made any difference, anyhow. Before long, the flock of crows that had once been Phobia swirled around the Grotesque, not unlike how Danna swarmed. They lifted off, and took the new Anarchist with them.
And he was new. Nova would have recognized him right away. But the Anarchists had never had a robot in their ranks. Her head was spinning. Where was Danna?
Under her arm was the answer. Danna’s worried face took up Nova’s vision as she was lowered back to the ground. When had she gotten up?
“Dreamcatcher,” she said softly. That was nice of her. Nova’s head hurt.
“Y’okay?” she managed to ask.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Danna replied. “C’mon. You’re hurt.”
“Am not. I’m totally good. Let me at that Grotesque guy. He’ll be extra Grotesque by the time I’m done with him. Because I’m gonna punch him in the face. A lot. And that’ll be grotesque.” Nova said.
She was talking to the blackness again.