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About the Author

Copyright Folio

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For Jeffrey, the first hero I always had

Bandage OF CHARACTERS

THE RENEGADES: SKETCH'S Team

SKETCH — Adrian Everhart

Tin bring his drawings and artwork to life

MONARCH — Danna Bell

Transforms into a swarm of monarch butterflies

RED ASSASSIN — Cerise Tucker

When wounded, her blood crystallizes into weaponry; signature weapon is a grappling hook formed from a bloodstone

SMOKESCREEN — Oscar Silva

Summons smoke and vapor at will

THE ANARCHISTS

NIGHTMARE — Nova Artino

Never sleeps, and can put others to sleep with her impact

THE DETONATOR — Ingrid Thompson

Creates explosives from the air that can exist detonated at will

PHOBIA — Truthful Name Unknown

Transforms his body and scythe into the embodiment of various fears

THE PUPPETEER — Winston Pratt

Turns people into mindless puppets who do his bidding

QUEEN BEE — Honey Harper

Exerts control over all bees, hornets, and wasps

CYANIDE — Leroy Flinn

Generates acidic poisons through his peel

THE RENEGADE COUNCIL

Captain CHROMIUM — Hugh Everhart

Has superstrength and is nearly invincible to physical attacks; tin generate chromium weaponry

THE DREAD WARDEN — Simon Westwood

Tin can turn invisible

TSUNAMI — Kasumi Hasegawa

Generates and manipulates water

THUNDERBIRD — Tamaya Rae

Generates thunder and lightning; can wing

BLACKLIGHT — Evander Wade

Creates and manipulates light and darkness

WE WERE ALL VILLAINS in the beginning.

For hundreds of years, prodigies were feared past the rest of the world. We became hunted. Tormented. Feared and oppressed. We were believed to be witches and demons, freaks and abominations. We were stoned and hanged and set afire while crowds gathered to lookout with cruel eyes, proud to be ridding the world of ane more pariah.

They were right to exist afraid.

Hundreds of years. Who would have stood for it?

Ace Anarchy changed everything. He united the nigh powerful prodigies he could find and together they rebelled.

He started with the infrastructure. Government buildings torn from their foundations. Banks and stock exchanges turned to rubble. Bridges ripped from the sky. Entire freeways reduced to rocky wastelands. When the armed forces sent jets, he plucked them from the air like moths. When they sent tanks, he crushed them like aluminum cans.

Then he went after the people who had failed him. Failed all of them.

Whole governments, gone. Police force enforcement, disbanded. Those fancy bureaucrats who had bought their way into power and influence … all expressionless, and all in a affair of weeks.

The Anarchists cared little for what would come next in one case the former globe crumbled. They cared only for change, and they got it. Soon, a number of villain gangs began to crawl out from social club's ashes, each hungry for their own piece of ability, and it wasn't long before Ace Anarchy'due south influence spread across the earth. Prodigies banded together for the first time in history, some full of wrath and resentment, others desperate for acceptance that never came. They demanded fair treatment and homo rights and protection under the constabulary, and in some countries, the panicking governments hastened to cater to them.

But in other countries, the rebellions turned violent, and the violence dissolved into anarchy.

Chaos rose up to fill the void that civilized society had left behind. Trade and manufacturing ground to a halt. Ceremonious wars erupted on every continent. Gatlon City was largely cut off from the globe, and the fear and distrust that prevailed would get on to rule for twenty years.

They telephone call it the Age of Anarchy.

Looking back now, people talk almost the Anarchists and the other gangs similar they were the worst part of those twenty years, just they weren't. Sure, anybody was terrified of them, but they more often than not left y'all alone every bit long as you lot paid up when it was your due and didn't crusade them any problem.

But the people. The normal people. They were far worse. With no rule and no constabulary, it became every man, woman, and kid for themselves. At that place were no repercussions for crimes or violence—no one to run to if y'all were beaten or robbed. No police. No prisons. Non legitimate ones, anyway. Neighbors stole from neighbors. Stores were looted and supplies were hoarded, leaving children to starve in the gutters. Information technology became the potent confronting the weak, and, as information technology turns out, the strong were ordinarily jerks.

Humanity loses faith in times similar that. With no one to look up to, no one to believe in, we all became rats scrounging in the sewers.

Maybe Ace really was a villain. Or possibly he was a visionary.

Maybe there'southward non much of a departure.

Either way, the gangs ruled Gatlon City for twenty years, while crime and vice spread like sewage around a backed-upwardly pipe. And the Age of Anarchy might take gone on for some other 20 years. L years. An eternity.

Merely then, seemingly overnight … hope.

Bright and sparkling hope, dressed upwardly in capes and masks.

Beautiful and joyous hope, promising to solve all your problems, pelting justice down upon your foes, and probably give a stern talking to a few jaywalkers along the way.

Warm and promising promise, encouraging the normal folks to stay inside where information technology was condom while they fixed everything. Don't worry near helping yourselves. You've got enough on your plate, what with all the hiding and moping you've been doing lately. You take a twenty-four hour period off. We're superheroes. We've got this.

Hope called themselves the Renegades.

PROLOGUE

NOVA HAD BEEN COLLECTING SYRINGES from the alleyway behind the apartment for weeks. She knew her parents would take them away if they found out, and then she'd been hiding them in an old shoe box, along with an assortment of screws, zip ties, copper wires, cotton wool balls, and annihilation else she thought might come in handy for her inventions. At six-going-on-vii years onetime, she'd already get aware of how of import it was to be resourceful and thrifty. She couldn't exactly make a list and ship her dad to the store for supplies, after all.

The syringes would come up in handy. She'd known information technology from the showtime.

She attached a thin plastic tube to the stop of ane and stuck the opposite end of the tube into a drinking glass of water she'd filled upwards in the bathroom sink. She pulled up the plunger, drawing h2o into the tube. Tongue sticking out through the gap where she'd recently lost her first tooth, she grabbed a 2d syringe and affixed it to the opposite end of the tube, then dug through her toolbox for a strip of wire long enough to secure information technology to the caster arrangement she'd congenital at the top of her dollhouse.

It had taken all day, but finally she was gear up to test it.

She tucked some of the dollhouse piece of furniture onto the elevator's p

latform, picked up the syringe, and pressed in the plunger. Water moved through the tube, extending the 2nd plunger upwards, and setting the complicated series of pulleys into action.

The elevator rose.

Nova sabbatum dorsum with a grin. "Hydraulic-powered elevator. Success."

A cry from the side by side room intruded on the moment, followed by her mother'south cooing phonation. Nova looked upward at her airtight bedroom door. Evie was sick once again. It seemed she was ever running a fever these days and they'd run out of medicine for her days agone. Uncle Alec was supposed to be bringing more than, only it might be hours still.

When Nova had overheard her father request Uncle Alec if he might be able to find a children's ibuprofen for the baby's fever, she'd considered asking for more of the fruit-flavored gummies he'd given her on her birthday terminal year, besides, or maybe a pack of rechargeable batteries.

She could do a lot with rechargeable batteries.

But Papà must have seen the request brewing in her eyes, and had given her a look that silenced her. Nova wasn't sure what it meant. Uncle Alec had always been good to them—bringing nutrient and apparel and sometimes even toys from his weekly spoils—just her parents never wanted to inquire for anything special, no matter how much they needed information technology. When there was something specific, they had to go into the markets and offer up trades, normally the things her male parent made.

The last time her dad had gone to the markets he'd come back with a bag of reusable diapers for Evie and a jagged cut above his eyebrow. Her mom stitched information technology up herself. Nova watched, fascinated to encounter that it was exactly like how her mother sewed upwards Dolly Bear when her seams came open.

Nova turned back to the hydraulic system. The elevator was just shy of being level with the dollhouse's second floor. If she could increase the capacity of the syringe, or make some adjustments to the lever system …

Beyond her door, the crying went on and on. The floorboards were squeaking now equally her parents took turns trying to comfort Evie, pacing back and forth through the apartment.

The neighbors would start to complain soon.

Sighing, Nova set down the syringe and stood.

Papà was holding Evie in the front room, bouncing her up and down and trying to press a cool washcloth confronting her flushed brow, just it only made her wail louder as she tried to shove information technology away. Through the doorway into their tiny kitchen, Nova saw her mom digging through cabinets, muttering about misplaced apple juice, though they all knew there wasn't any.

"Want me to help?" said Nova.

Papà turned to her, distress shadowing his eyes. Evie screamed louder every bit he forgot to bounciness her for two whole seconds.

"I'yard pitiful, Nova," he said, bouncing again. "It'southward not fair to ask you to do it … but if she could just slumber for another hour or two … rest would be proficient for her, and Alec might be here past and then."

"I don't mind," said Nova, reaching for the infant. "It'south easy."

Papà frowned. Sometimes Nova thought he didn't like her gift, though she didn't know why. All it had always done was make the apartment more peaceful.

He crouched down and settled Evie into Nova's artillery, making sure her hold was secure. Evie was getting so heavy, nix like the tiny infant she'd been not quite a year ago. Now she was all chubby thighs and flailing arms. She'd be walking any day now, her parents kept saying.

Nova sabbatum down on the mattress in the corner of the room and stroked her fingers through Evie'southward baby-soft curls. Evie had worked herself into a tizzy, big tears rolling downwardly her plump cheeks. She was so feverish that holding her felt similar property a miniature furnace.

Nova sank into the tossed blankets and pillows and placed her thumb against her sister's cheek, scooping away one of the warm tears. She let her power ringlet through her. An easy, gentle pulse.

The crying stopped.

Evie's optics fluttered, her eyelids growing heavy. Her oral fissure savage open in a shuddering O.

Just similar that, she was asleep.

Nova looked upwards to run across her dad's shoulders sink in relief. Mom appeared in the doorway, surprised and curious, until she spotted Nova with the baby tucked confronting her.

"This is my favorite," Nova whispered to them. "When she'due south all soft and cuddly and … serenity."

Mom's face up softened. "Cheers, Nova. Perchance she'll feel better when she wakes up."

"And we won't take to kickoff looking for another place to alive," Papà muttered. "Charlie'due south kicked people out for less than a crying baby."

Mom shook her head. "He wouldn't risk angering your brother like that."

"I don't know." Papà frowned. "I don't know what anyone would or wouldn't exercise anymore. Likewise … I don't want to be in Alec's debt any more than nosotros already are."

Mom retreated into the kitchen to outset putting abroad the cans and boxes she'd scattered across the linoleum, while Papà sank into a chair at the apartment's simply tabular array. Nova watched him massage his temple for a moment, earlier he squared his shoulders and started to work on some new project. Nova wasn't sure what he was making, simply she loved to watch him work. His gift was so much more than interesting than hers—the manner he could pull threads of energy out of the air, bending and sculpting them like golden filigree.

Information technology was cute to sentinel. Mesmerizing, fifty-fifty, equally the glowing strips emerged from aught, making the air in the flat hum, then quieting and darkening as her male parent permit them harden into something tangible and real.

"What are you making, Papà?"

He glanced over at her, and a shadow passed over his face, even as he smiled at her. "I'grand not sure yet," he said, his fingers tracing the delicate metalwork. "Something … something I promise will put to right some of the great injuries I've caused this world."

He sighed then, a weighted audio that brought a frown to Nova'southward face. She knew in that location were things her parents didn't talk to her near, things they tried to shelter her from, and she hated it. Sometimes she would overhear conversations between them, words passed through the long hours of night when they idea she was comatose. They whispered about falling buildings and entire neighborhoods being burned to the ground. They murmured nigh power struggles and how at that place didn't seem to be any safe place left and how they might flee the city, simply that the violence seemed to have consumed the whole world at present, and besides, where would they go?

Simply a week ago Nova had heard her mother say—"They'll destroy us all if no one stops them…"

Nova had wanted to enquire almost it, only she knew she would go only vague answers and sad smiles and be told that it wasn't for her to worry most.

"Papà?" she started again, afterwards watching him work for a while. "Are we going to be okay?"

A figment of copper energy spluttered and disintegrated in the air. Her father stock-still her with a devastated await. "Of course, sweetheart. We're going to be fine."

"And so why exercise you always look then worried?"

He set up downward his piece of work and leaned back in his chair. For a moment she thought he might be on the verge of crying, but and then he blinked and the look was gone.

"Heed to me, Nova," he said, slipping off the chair and crouching in front of her. "In that location are many dangerous people in this world. Only in that location are also many good people. Brave people. No matter how bad things get, we have to remember that. And then long as there are heroes in this globe, in that location's hope that tomorrow might be better."

"The Renegades," she whispered, her voice tinged with a hint of awe.

A wisp of a grin crossed her begetter'south features. "The Renegades," he confirmed.

Nova pressed her cheek against Evie's soft curls. The Renegades did seem to be helping everyone these days. One had chased down a mugger who tried to have Mrs. Ogilvie's purse, and she'd heard that a group of Renegades had broken into 1 of the gangs' storehouses and taken all the food to a private children'southward dwelling.

"And they're going to aid usa?" she said. "Maybe we can ask them for medicine side by side time.�

�

Her begetter shook his head. "We don't need that sort of assist as much every bit another people in this metropolis practice."

Nova's brow furrowed. She couldn't imagine anyone needing that sort of assistance more than they did.

"But," her male parent said, "when we need them … when nosotros really need them, they'll be here, all correct?" He swallowed, and sounded more hopeful than disarming when he added, "They'll protect the states."

Nova didn't question information technology. They were superheroes. They were the skilful guys. Anybody knew that.

She found Evie's butterball fingers and started to count off each knuckle, while running through all the stories she'd heard. Renegades pulling a driver from an overturned delivery truck. Renegades breaking up a gun fight in a nearby shopping commune. Renegades rescuing a child who had fallen into Harrow Bay.

They were ever helping, always showing up at merely the right moment. That'due south what they did.

Maybe, she thought—as her male parent turned back to his piece of work—maybe they were only waiting for the right moment to swoop in and help them likewise.

Her gaze lingered on her begetter's hands. Watching them mold, sculpt, tug more threads of free energy from the air.

Nova'southward own eyelids started to droop.

Even in her dreams she could see her male parent's hands, simply now he was pulling falling stars out of the sky, stringing them together similar glowing golden beads …

* * *

A DOOR SLAMMED.

Nova awoke with a showtime. Evie huffed and rolled away from her.

Groggy and disoriented, Nova sat up and shook out her arm, which had fallen asleep beneath Evie'due south head. The shadows in the room had shifted. There were low voices in the hallway. Papà, sounding tense. Her mom, murmuring, please, please …

She pushed off the blanket that had been draped over her and tucked information technology effectually Evie, then crept past the table where a delicate copper-colored bracelet sat abased, an empty space in the filigree waiting to be filled with a jewel.

When she reached the front door, she turned the knob as slowly every bit she could, prying the door open just enough that she could peer out into the dim hall.

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