Adrian fidgeted with one of the chromium cuffs on his wrist. He wanted to reach out and rumple Max’s hair—he had quickly grown accustomed to being able to show outward affection—but the thick gloves prevented it. It was doubly frustrating given that he didn’t believe he needed the hazmat suit. He had the tattoo now. He should be able to get close to Max without any trouble.

But the tattoos were still a secret that needed to be kept, and the last thing he wanted was for certain people to start asking questions about them. So, for now, the hazmat suit would have to do.

“Come on,” he said, opening the quarantine door.

With worried eyes, Max started to follow Adrian, but then paused. Turbo was gnawing on the strap of his sandals. “No. Stay here, Turbo,” he said, nudging the creature back toward the miniature shore of the bay.

Adrian checked each direction one more time, and ushered Max through. Turbo didn’t follow, just cocked his head and watched them go for a second, before skittering off toward his food bowl. The creature ate so much, Adrian was beginning to think they should have named him Oscar, Jr.

Their shoes thumped on the sky bridge as they passed over the lobby. Adrian could see the security booth inside the main entrance. The personnel had been given clear instructions, though, and no one called out to stop them as they made their way toward the elevator bank.

“That’s all they’ve talked about today,” said Max.

“Hm?”

Max pointed and Adrian followed the gesture toward one of the television monitors hung around the lobby. A news story was playing, and though the sound was muted, an icon of a pill bottle over the news anchor’s shoulder gave away the story.

A fourteen-year-old girl had died of a drug overdose two nights ago, a result of the illegal substance that was pervading the city’s drug market. The drug that was concocted, in part, from medications like those Hawthorn had stolen from the hospital. It was the eighth overdose that week. In addition to the rampant drug usage, the growing popularity of the substance was also being linked to increases in street violence, trafficking, and prostitution.

Perhaps most troubling was that the Renegades had done little to counter the growing epidemic of drug abuse or the flourishing black market. If anything, they seemed at a loss as to how to fight an enemy that couldn’t be knocked out with punches and laser beams.

On the screen, the most recent victim’s family was being interviewed, their eyes swollen with mourning. Adrian turned away and jabbed the elevator button. There was no way for him to know if the drugs that took that girl’s life had been developed from the same drugs Hawthorn had stolen, but he couldn’t help feeling the weight of his failure.

The elevator arrived, and they both shuffled in. He could feel Max’s anxiety every time the boy glanced up at the camera on the ceiling or the numbers above the door. His nervousness seemed to increase as the elevator rose. One foot was tapping rapidly against the floor. One hand kept brushing back an imaginary lock of hair from his forehead. He kept pursing his lips and shaking out his hands in an attempt to calm himself.

“I know this is weird for you,” said Adrian, his breath fogging up the inside of the suit’s face shield in a way that reminded him vaguely of being inside the Sentinel’s armor. “But it’s really not as risky as it seems. I swear. I wouldn’t do anything to put you in danger—or any of the Renegades.”

“But where are we going?” asked Max with a slight whine in his voice.

“Floor thirty-nine.” Adrian gestured at the highlighted button.

Max glowered at him. “And what’s on floor thirty-nine?”

Adrian’s secretive smile returned, unbidden, and Max scoffed in annoyance.

The elevator reached the floor and the doors parted. Adrian gestured for Max to go first and the kid crept out uncertainly, but paused on the landing.

“Hey … Dad?”

Hugh stood a few dozen paces in front of the elevator. “Hello, Max.”

Max glanced back at Adrian, eyes round with panic, but Adrian was already grinning. “I told you they would understand.” He poked Max between the shoulder blades, urging him into the vast open space.

The thirty-ninth floor was one of the many floors of headquarters that were vacant, waiting to be filled with cubicles or VR rooms or an expanded call center or medical rooms or laboratories … whatever they needed as the organization grew. But for now, it was just a plain concrete floor, exposed ceiling pipes, and row after row of support columns spanning from one end of the building to the other.

Empty but for Hugh Everhart, Adrian, and Max.

“I’m … not in trouble?” Max said, hesitantly approaching their father. “For leaving the quarantine?”

“No, you’re not in trouble.” Hugh’s face got stern. “We can’t go around making a habit of it, but it was easy enough to secure a space for one night. This is, after all, a special occasion.”

“It is?” said Max.

Hugh nodded. His focus turned to the wall behind Max and Adrian and there was a hint of concern, but also hope. “Assuming it worked?”

Max turned around and Simon flickered out of invisibility. Max gasped, then smacked Adrian on the arm. “You should have told me.”

Simon was standing beside the elevator, the Vitality Charm around his neck. He would have been close enough to touch Max’s shoulder as they’d walked by.

“I … don’t feel any different,” said Simon. He was tense, which wasn’t like him.

For a long second, no one moved. Simon was standing only five or six paces away from Max, close enough that he should have felt the effects of Max’s power immediately. He would feel weak, first, and then the draining away of his abilities. When it had happened to Adrian, he had felt it most in his hands. His fingers had gone numb, threatening to never be able to bring his drawings to life again. He wasn’t sure what the Dread Warden would feel. Vulnerable? Exposed?

“Anything?” said Hugh.

Simon shook his head. “I feel normal.” He vanished, his whole body disappearing like a light being turned off.

Max grabbed Adrian’s forearm and squeezed. The suit hissed around the cuffs.

Simon appeared a second later, a couple of steps closer and beaming. He reached for the medallion around his neck. “It’s working.” He laughed. “Adrian, this is incredible. Max, I—”

Before he could finish, Max launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around Simon’s waist.

Simon’s face crumpled with the unexpected embrace, and he bent forward, locking his arms around Max’s shoulder.

“Does this mean I can kick your butt at cards too, now?” Max said into Simon’s shirt.

Simon chuckled. “You’ll be disappointed to know that I am a much better card player than he is.”

Hugh cleared his throat, dragging Adrian’s attention toward him. He jerked his head to the side, indicating for Adrian to follow him. “Let’s give them a minute.”

Adrian’s cheeks were beginning to hurt from his grin, but he couldn’t smother it as they made their way across the dusty floor.

“Simon’s right,” Hugh said, keeping his voice low to avoid an echo. “The Vitality Charm is amazing, and I’m mortified to know it’s been sitting in our vault all this time and neither of us knew about it. Max’s life could have been so different…” His voice trembled, but he covered it up with another clearing of his throat.

“Better late than never,” said Adrian. “I’m glad I found it when I did.”

“Me too. And we’re going to assign some people to look more closely at the objects we have in the collection, see what other things of value might have been missed.”

“You should talk to Nova about it,” said Adrian. “She’s been really invested in her artifacts work lately.”

“I will,” said Hugh. “It will be fascinating for us all to hear what else we might have been neglecting down there.”

Once they reached the far wall of windows, Adrian checked the distance between them and Max and unlatched the face shield. Hugh tensed as he watched Adrian pull off the hood, but Adrian flashed him a grin. “We’re far enough away.”

When Adrian showed no sign of having his powers drained, Hugh conceded with a nod. “Listen, Adrian, there’s something I thought you should know. Sooner than later.”

Adrian’s eyebrow shot upward. “Oh?”

“There’s been a breakthrough in the Hawthorn case.”

Adrian stood straighter. “What? When?”

“Early yesterday morning. After … that unfortunate fatality.”

“The girl that overdosed?”

“Yes. We told Hawthorn’s allies that if we’re able to trace the drugs she bought to the ones that were stolen, they could be charged with aiding in involuntary manslaughter. One of them started talking. Gave us a few leads on where Hawthorn might be hiding out.”

“That’s great,” said Adrian. “I’ll notify my team immediately. We can…” He trailed off as Hugh started to shake his head. Adrian’s enthusiasm waned. “You’re not giving us the case, are you?”

“We’ve already put Clark’s team on it.”

It felt like being punched in the stomach. Adrian groaned. “Frostbite? Seriously?”

“I know you don’t get along with her, and I don’t blame you. They’re … a frosty bunch.” Hugh quirked a grin at his pun. Adrian did not return it. “But they’re a good team, one of the most effective we have. I trust them to handle it.”

Adrian scowled, knowing it made him look like a petulant child. He was tempted to say that the only reason Frostbite brought in so many criminals was because her team didn’t play by the code—he’d witnessed as much when he’d seen them bullying the Anarchists in the subway tunnels and trying to frame them with a false confession.

But he resisted the urge, not only because he had no evidence of Frostbite’s transgressions, but also because he felt the shame of his own hypocrisy. The Sentinel didn’t follow the code either, and it was a part of the reason that he, like Frostbite’s team, was so good at bringing criminals to justice. Catching bad guys was easy when you didn’t have to deal with the inconvenience of evidence and trials.