Chapter Text
Prologue
Gideon shuffled down a violently busy sidewalk in the heart of Gatlon City, cursing his aging bones and growing increasingly flustered. He shoved past hundreds of panicked citizens on their way to who-knows-where, pausing only once to stop outside a general store where the news was playing at full volume on a screen inside.
“…not yet permitted to approach even the outskirts of the wall now surrounding the cathedral,” the reporter was saying, “we have received word that Captain Chromium’s attempts to isolate Ace Anarchy have been largely successful, allowing Renegade reserve forces to engage the remaining Anarchists directly.” Gideon shook off his interest. That fight was halfway across the city, and he had more important things to worry about. There, at the end of the block, sat his destination: the stoop leading to the apartment of his daughter, son-in-law, and, most importantly, newborn granddaughter.
He felt the excitement build as he climbed the few steps up to the door, imagining the joy that awaited inside. The day had been a long and hard one. More than half of his coworkers dead. The Renegades in shambles. Ace Anarchy back to full power. But this, surely this could not be ruined.
It was at that moment the bricks beneath him began to shake.
Metal groaned and stone cracked, then with a sudden lurch upwards Gideon was nearly thrown off his feet. He grasped wildly at the wall beside him as his balance tried to calibrate to the jarring shift. Every light within sight blinked out, but in the dim glow of the moon he could still make out the street just a few feet away. Then a few more feet. Then a few more. Gasps of shock turned into screams of terror as across the city, people realized what was happening. The city was rising.
Not quite seeing but feeling the building climb higher, Gideon clung to the stoop which, by some miracle, clung to the rest of the apartment building. From far off, a series of frantic shouts announced the only possible explanation for this nightmare.
“It’s Ace! Ace Anarchy!”
“He’s going to destroy the city!”
“Where are the Renegades?”
“We’re all going to die!”
“What happened to the Captain?”
Gideon squeezed his eyes shut and said a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening. He was hardly religious—few were after the Age of Anarchy—but under the circumstances it seemed warranted. He knew what this must mean. Captain Chromium had been defeated. The Renegades were gone. All was lost.
Gatlon City hung in the air for what felt like an eternity, caught between holding its breath and crying for help.
In reality, it was barely more than a minute before, one by one, buildings began to drop.
Gideon heard it first. A distant rumble, perhaps half a mile away. Then another, this one closer. Four more. Five. Already the scent of dust and smoke made the air sharp and gritty. He braced himself for a fall he knew he would not survive.
The ground fell from beneath him. For the briefest instant Gideon could have sworn he was floating weightlessly, but soon enough gravity claimed him too.
That’s when the first miracle came.
Just before the building made deadly contact with the ground, its momentum slowed, then stopped. Gently, almost lovingly, it settled back into its foundations near-flawlessly. Gideon gaped as concrete, brick, and steel alike knit themselves back together. But there was little time to waste.
With a surge of adrenalin, Gideon hauled himself through the doors of the building, up five flights of stairs, and down an unfairly long hallway before, gasping, he arrived at a door labelled 517. Heart pounding, terrified at what he might find inside, Gideon reached up and tentatively knocked on the door.
“Who’s there?” The voice, a woman’s, was muffled and frightened, but familiar.
“Flora, thank God!” Gideon let out a sigh of relief at hearing his daughter’s voice. “It’s me. Are you guys alright? Is Trinity okay?”
The door swung open. There stood Flora Dayholt, disheveled and more than a little bruised, but alive. Without speaking, the two embraced. Looking past her shoulder, Gideon could see that the apartment was a disaster. Anything not secured to a wall or the floor had been tossed about by the drop; furniture was tipped or cracked, books and papers lay strewn about, and bits of glass from cups or mirrors were scattered throughout the space. From the master bedroom Gideon could hear a baby crying. None of it mattered, though.
“We’re okay.” Flora muttered between sobs, her face buried in her father’s shirt. “We’re alive.”
That’s when the second “miracle” came.
Outside, a wave of pure energy swept across the city, originating from the old cathedral and spreading to the world beyond. Within the apartment it was nothing more than a flash of copper light and a curiously warm breeze.
Gideon pulled away from Flora, feeling a sudden rush of…something. Not quite adrenalin, but his mind felt clearer than it had in years. He could recall formulas and equations with a precision he hadn’t known since his college years. He knew the exact number of steps he had taken from the stoop to the door, the number of seconds that had passed since his last breath.
Flora, too, looked shaken.
“You’re… frightened,” she said softly. “Why do I know that?”
“Flora?” A man’s voice, Flora’s husband, called from another room, sounding panicked.
Gideon snapped to attention. He’d barely noticed the chilling silence in the small apartment. The baby had stopped crying.
He and Flora burst into the master bedroom to find Flora’s husband bent over a tiny body. Trinity, barely a week old, didn’t so much a flinch as he gently shook her.
“Quentin, what happened?” Flora asked, rushing to his side.
“There was that- that light,” he stuttered, his voice taking on a manic edge. “That light came through the room and it- it put her to sleep or something. She just- just stopped crying and now she won’t wake up.”
Gideon felt frozen in place, mind racing. She’s breathing. She’s alive. Why won’t she wake up? What was that light? Where did it come from? Are those screams I hear? 14 separate voices, all within 2 blocks. How do I know that?
What the hell is going on?
Chapter 1
Anyone Can Be a Renegade
Trinity wiggled in her seat on the school bus, desperately trying to shift in such a way that lessened the cramping in her legs. It wasn’t easy. The sweltering August heat seeped through the bus’s rattling window, soaking her side in sweat, and forcing her to pull away from the wall as much as possible without shoving Oliver out of their shared seat. Though he might not mind the extra legroom suddenly sitting in the aisle would provide him, the last thing either of them wanted was to draw any more attention from the many students crowding the other seats. Trinity’s knees, pressed into the back of the row in front of her, screamed for relief, but with Oliver’s sack lunch held firmly between her feet and her own bag balanced atop her lap, she could manage only the smallest movements without risking one or the other sliding into some dark corner of the bus’s floor.
With a sigh, Trinity turned to the window. Distraction would have to suffice. She craned her neck toward the glass and examined the city beyond.
The street was bright and hot, but hordes of people in a mix of casual and business attire still bustled along the sidewalk, each stubbornly pretending to be unfazed by the sun’s harsh rays. Trinity’s eyes caught on one woman wearing a sleek pencil skirt and blouse, leaning against a wide shade tree. One of the woman’s hands gathered her elegantly curled hair up and off her neck, while the other fanned her face. All along the backs of those hands and trailing up her arms were rows of thin white spines which flexed and relaxed in time with the movements of the woman’s arm.
Just down the street, in an alley tucked between a public school and a daycare, a young man stepped up to the fence that bordered an enclosed recess area. As Trinity watched, he reached up and over the fence, and from his palm released a fine mist that showered over the children. Their giggles and shrieks of delight were audible even from the bus.
This part of Gatlon City had once been the worst of the worst. Crime. Drugs. Anarchy. Nowadays, it was the beating heart of civilized society. Ever since the Supernova—a surge of prodigious power that granted awesome abilities to every human on Earth—the city had become a shining beacon, a light against the darkness and confusion that haunted the following years. It was all thanks to the Renegades. They had stepped up as the leading authority on prodigy affairs, guided by over 10 years of prior experience organizing prodigies as the most effective crime-fighting force in the world.
That was nearly 2 decades ago now.
Without warning, the bus came to a screeching halt. Trinity barely caught herself before her nose could collide with the seat in front of her. The chatter of the other students on the bus quieted, before rising again with increased fervor. They had arrived at their destination: Renegades Headquarters.
The tower was enormous—a skyscraper in every sense of the word. Its base consumed almost an entire city block, which then extended up and up and up until eventually tapering into a spire taller than any other in the city. With its gleaming windows and harsh metal edges, the structure somehow managed to look both welcoming and imposing at the same time, as if to say, “Come in! If you dare…”
A steady stream of men and women flowed into and out of three massive sets of revolving doors. They were flanked on either side by sentries who stood perfectly still, analyzing each person who came and went from the building.
An all-too-familiar knot of anxiety formed in the pit of Trinity’s stomach, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t like this was the first time she had entered Renegade HQ. She had visited once before, when she was eight years old, as part of an ongoing research project which sought to answer the age-old question; where did prodigy powers come from?
Many assumed it was simply the next step in human evolution, some mutation that first occurred in just one individual thousands of years ago and slowly spread to the rest of the population, until everyone had the potential to manifest an ability. A sound theory, but even the slightest knowledge of genetics revealed it to be, at best, unlikely.
Others, who favored a more fantastical approach, liked to say that the abilities were “a gift from the stars”. Not alien, exactly. More like some magical cosmic dust that had somehow knit itself into all of humanity and gave them… magic?... sort of.
There were plenty of other theories but, well, the research was still ongoing.
Trinity stared up at the tower, thinking back to those few days when she had so childishly believed that she might actually be the key to unlocking the origins of prodigy-kind. Back then, word had only just begun to spread of her unique… ailment. The Renegade research team had reached out personally to Susanna, Trinity’s adoptive mother. They’d requested that Trinity be brought in for some testing and observation, and Susanna agreed out of “professional curiosity”.
It didn’t last long. Susanna had taken one look at the extensive list of tests (samples of blood, tissue, and bone marrow; brain scans; countless x-rays) and turned on her heels, towing little Trinity behind her by the wrist.
“No one gets to treat mi reinita like a lab rat,” she had said. “Not on my watch.”
Even now, ten years later, Trinity wished she could go back to that day and make things play out differently. She would have fought, would have spoken up for herself and insisted that, NO! She really wanted to stay. She wanted answers. Sure, it would have been unpleasant. Probably more than a little painful. But would it have been worth it?
*POP*
A faint noise, accompanied by the tiniest whisper of a breeze, startled Trinity out of her thoughts. Oliver, who had mere seconds ago been seated next to Mr. Franklin at the front of the bus, appeared in the seat next to her. He leaned in conspiratorially until his chin barely brushed her shoulder.
“You’re internally monologuing, aren’t you?” he whispered. “I could see your brooding face from halfway across the bus.”
Trinity gasped, feigning offense.
“I most certainly was not! I was simply… mentally recounting my life’s many woes. It’s completely different!”
With another *POP* Oliver appeared again at the front of the bus then, a few seconds later, *POP* back to Trinity’s side. She shot him a look, halfway between humor and pity. He wasn’t looking quite so mischievous now.
“Nervous?” It was more statement than question, but Oliver just nodded solemnly.
Of course he was nervous. Today was a big deal for him. For as long as Trinity had known him, which was most of their lives, Oliver had been obsessed with the Renegades. Unfortunately, he, like Trinity, would likely never be able to join their ranks due to the unruly nature of his ability.
And yet, here they were. Mere minutes from beginning their mandatory field trip into Renegades Headquarters, where outreach representatives would do their best to convince as many of the students as they could to join the Renegades after graduation. It was bound to be an uncomfortable afternoon, at the very least.
Trinity reached over and squeezed Oliver’s hand in what she hoped was a reassuring gesture.
“It’s just a few hours,” she said. “Then we’re back to business as usual.”
“Right. Business as usual.” Oliver’s voice shook just slightly, and Trinity knew he wasn’t convinced. She was about to speak up again when the bus doors swung open, and a lanky young man stepped inside.
He announced, “Good afternoon, everyone! On behalf of the Council, it’s my honor to welcome you all to the Renegade Headquarters!” The man paused, as though he expected an outburst of cheering or perhaps a spontaneous explosion of confetti. Instead, his enthusiasm was met with blank stares. A girl near the front offered a half-hearted, “yay.”
Undeterred, the man continued, “My name is Jake, and I’ll be your class’s escort-slash-tour guide today. In a few minutes we will all enter the building together and begin the first part of our tour: the lobby, lounge, and training center. These are the most high-traffic areas of our headquarters, so I ask that you stay close to me and please keep out of the way of any on-duty Renegades.” At this, a ripple of murmurs broke out among the students. Renegades. Real Renegades doing real Renegade business, not the lame ones who gave lectures at school assemblies. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon to see patrol units or civil service teams at work around the city, but to be among so many at such close quarters was a rare and exciting prospect.
“At noon we’ll head to the cafeteria for a short lunch followed immediately by a presentation from our various departments. From there, we’ll ascend to the upper floors of the tower, and peek into our world-class Com Center. Then you guys get to explore our museum wing, a whole floor where we display some of the most historically significant prodigy artifacts in the world.”
Oliver’s hand shot up, while at the same time he *POP* appeared in an empty seat directly in front of Jake. Without missing a beat, Jake nodded at him to ask his burning question.
“What about the artifact warehouse?” Oliver blurted. “I heard that you guys keep the really powerful stuff in some sort of secret vault. Could we see that?”
“Oh, um… well, it’s not exactly a secret.” Jake cleared his throat. “It’s not on the tour, but I guess I could take you down there, though the only part that’s open to the public is the front desk, so, um—”
*POP* Oliver retreated to his spot next to Trinity, face turning red.
“Right. Never mind. Sorry.” He said quietly.
An awkward silence settled over the bus before Jake asked, “Are there any other questions?”
Nothing.
More painful silence.
“Ok!” Jake reached behind him, taking a stack of papers from Mr. Franklin. “Each of you gets an information packet and a nametag, then we’ll be all set to go inside.”
He began making his way down the aisle, jotting down each name on the classic white rectangle stickers, and handing out thick, colorful packets. When he got within earshot, Trinity winced as she heard the questions he was asking every student.
“What’s your name? And in one word, what’s your ability?” That question. It seemed to be the only question anyone bothered to ask when meeting someone new. Trinity hated that question.
For the briefest of moments, she considered lying. Could she claim to have some non-visible power, something he wouldn’t question? But the other students and her teacher knew the truth. What if they said something? No, better to simply rip off the proverbial band-aid.
Jake approached Oliver first.
“Name?”
“Oliver Elbridge.”
“Hello, Oliver. And what can you do, kid?”
“Teleportation.”
“You don’t say! I’ve got a second cousin who’s a teleporter, but she moved away ages ago. That reminds me, I haven’t talked to her in years. Maybe it’s about time I reach out and invite her to visit…” As Jake continued to ramble, he finished writing Oliver’s information on the nametag. Then he turned to Trinity.
“And what about you? What’s your name?”
“Trinity Price.”
“And what’s your ability, Trinity?”
“Um, I actually don’t have one.”
A wave of emotions crossed Jake’s face. Confusion. Understanding. Pity. Curiosity. Trinity had seen it all a million times before. Finally, he settled firmly on an encouraging smile.
“Well, you know what they say!” he said, and Trinity braced herself for that awful, cheesy slogan. “Anyone can be a Renegade!”
Yeah. Right.
Oliver was entirely too familiar with Renegade Headquarters. Despite having never actually been inside, he’d studied the schematics for as long as he could read. He knew every hall, every column, every tile. Yet he was still struck by the glamour of the central lobby as they passed through the massive revolving doors.
The first thing to catch his eye was the iconic, glittering red R inlaid on the floor. It was easily 20 feet across, bold and bright against the deep grey tile. Since its establishment as the official “symbol of hope” over 30 years ago, artists across the world had attempted to capture the feeling that stirred in the lucky few that got to see it on such scale in person. Though powerful, those renderings fell laughably short.
The second monument that drew his attention was the information desk. Sweet rot, it was as grand as the rest of the building, with at least twenty attendants dressed in business-casual variants of the Renegade uniform, waiting at eager attention for someone to approach with a query. Oliver knew from the online forums that these “secretaries” were equipped with both extensive knowledge of all the inner workings of the organization and full combat training, making them a formidable line of defense in addition to the conventional sentries.
Still, the most impressive contents of the lobby were the Renegades themselves. Hundreds of them. The most powerful prodigies in the world gathered, paced, chatted, rushed about on important Renegade business. There was so much power in their slightest movements—the tiny turn of a head, the subtle shift in a stance. Oliver felt at any moment they might spring into action, ready to subdue any threat.
And yet, at the same time, these people were just… people. A red-headed man with thick greying sideburns seated behind the information desk let out a boisterous laugh that may have rattled windows two blocks away. A woman in a far corner fumbled a delicate tool in her hands, scattering a dozen tiny mechanical pieces between the feet of passersby. Near the center of the room a stout man whistled to himself as he tossed a cinderblock-sized silvery box with one hand, casually sending the thing into the far reaches of the vaulted ceiling.
Oliver shuffled along with the other awe-stricken students, led by Jake through the sea of people. All this movement, all this noise, Oliver suddenly became aware how risky it was for him. Just as it occurred to him to keep his eyes trained on the students in front of him, he caught the gaze of someone in the crowd for a moment too long. A million thoughts came unbidden to his mind; Who was that? Do they think I’m a threat? Will they try to hurt me? What if they take Trinity?
Before he could even register who the person was or why they happened to look his way, his fight or flight instincts kicked into full gear.
I have to get out of here.
His heart rate jumped, and he lost control.
With a *POP* Oliver found himself directly in the path of a cluster of Renegades. Their honed senses bristled at the telltale sound of a teleporter, and they flinched, but too late, momentum carrying them into a jumbled collision. Oliver barely had enough time to jump to his feet before—
*POP* He was behind the information desk now, and in the process of losing his balance. He wobbled, flailed, narrowly avoided smacking the redheaded man across the face.
*POP* A stack of hopefully-not-top-secret files strewn across the floor.
*POP* A face full of ornamental plants.
A fifth *POP* brought him—blessedly—back to the group of students, though he immediately lost his footing and landed hard on his butt. Trinity was there in an instant, placing herself in front of him with practiced ease. She placed both hands on his shoulders and drew him close enough that their foreheads brushed. Her grey eyes were all he could see.
“Focus.” Her voice was firm, forceful enough to claim his attention over the buzz of activity in the room, but without any trace of aggression. Here was something calm. Steady. It was enough to break through Oliver’s racing thoughts. He held her gaze until they both felt confident that he wasn’t going anywhere. His face was hot with embarrassment, his heart still racing, but he was back in control.
Oliver cringed inwardly as he slowly took in the scene around them. Hundreds of faces were turned towards their group, a mix of concern and alert. Not ideal, but nothing he hadn’t dealt with before. After Trinity helped him to his feet, the pair fell into a practiced stance at the back of the crowd of students, making themselves as small as possible.
The students shuffled forward with suppressed urgency, collectively determined to leave the space as quickly as possible.
“Alright, guys,” Jake, the tour guide, began calling direction. “Let’s keep it moving, if you’ll follow me right this way…” He flipped through a folder, discarding a few papers presumably listing facts about the lobby space, and deftly herded the group through a set of glass double doors at the far end of the atrium. Oliver’s gaze trailed behind, lingering on the last glimpses of that big, beautiful room. So much to see, so much to learn, and he had spoiled it. As usual.
Oliver hooked a finger through the scrunchie around Trinity’s wrist, anchoring himself to her as they walked. Steady contact often helped to soothe his nerves when his powers were in the fritz. Today, though, it wasn’t enough to distract from the looming monster that was the rest of this field trip.
Three more hours, he told himself, clinging to the schedule he had memorized back to front. In three hours, he would be out and free to teleport wherever in the world he liked. In three hours, the course of the rest of his life would be determined. In three hours, he would be hunted by the single greatest crime-fighting organization in the world.
In three hours, Oliver would steal from the Renegades.