Author's Note: To the guests who've posted reviews, thank you so much! I was really happy to read your comments and I'm glad that you're enjoying the story! :)

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Maggie slipped in through the back door of the abandoned theater that had been her home for the past five years, ever since she'd discovered it on a scavenging mission with the Renegades and decided it would suit her better than living at the children's home. The first day she'd shown up to work after being away from the Home overnight, the Renegades' Social Outreach Coordinator had pulled her aside to ask where she'd gone and if everything was okay. Maggie had responded with a surly "None of your business," and after the Renegades' first few failed attempts at trying to find her a Renegade family to live with, the matter had been dropped. Further proof that no one actually cared about an orphaned prodigy like herself.

So much the better for her. The theater was large and formerly ornate, adorned with intricate woodworking and plush velvet seats. It had previously boasted plenty of elaborate metalwork as well, in the forms of picture frames and arches over the doorways, but anything metal had been long since stripped away by the Renegade scavenger teams—including Maggie herself.

It was the height of irony, Maggie thought, that the moment everyone had gotten their superpowers, the Renegades had decided there was no longer any such thing as villains. Sure, they recognized that crime still occurred, and still sent out patrol units to deal with large-scale situations, while encouraging people to step up and handle smaller disturbances themselves. But in all their superhero pomposity, they'd never bothered to check the many abandoned buildings of the city to see whether any villains might be lurking there. Which was why they'd never found Maggie and her gang.

The new villains.

As Maggie passed through the hallway full of dressing rooms, a jet of water hit her in the shoulder. She jerked her head to and fro, her gaze finally landing on a small form darting into one of the rooms and closing the door. "Chester!" she shouted venomously. "Don't make me kick you out of here."

"Sorry, Maggie," Chester's pathetic voice squeaked from behind the door. "I didn't realize it was you coming in."

"Better be more observant next time," Maggie snapped. "Look before you shoot."

"Yes ma'am."

Maggie concealed her amusement, the way she did every time the boy, who was only three years her junior, called her ma'am. Maggie had first met Chester Wallace, alias Squirt, at the Prodigy Children's Home. He'd been an annoying little brat back then, always running around squirting everyone in the face with the jets of water he could synthesize from his fingertips, crouching down in the hallway in the middle of the night to drench anyone who got up to go to the bathroom. Since he'd been only six when Maggie had left the children's home, he hadn't remembered her at all by the time she'd approached him three years later to ask if he wanted to join her gang. She'd immediately asserted herself as the generous leader from whom all good things came, who was graciously letting him join her elite gang that would someday possess all the power in the world. That was all it had taken. Chester had seen her as an authority figure ever since.

As Maggie walked farther down the hallway, she wrinkled her nose. "Where's the Skunk?"

The door to the room Chester had just shut himself creaked open, and his face peeked out, still wearing a look of subservience. "He got mad at Kevin today, so that's why the place reeks."

"Because he was mad at Kevin? All he had to do was scream really loudly or start stomping around on the stage or something. He didn't have to make the rest of us suffer too." Honestly, sometimes Maggie felt like she was the only person in her gang who had any sense.

Chester just shrugged. "He was yelling, but then I guess he lost his temper and let the spray loose too. I wasn't there; I just heard the yelling. It was down that-a-ways." He pointed down the hallway, toward the open space that had been used as a backstage area when the theater had actually hosted shows. Maggie scowled. With how poorly ventilated this place was, it would take days for the smell to clear out.

"Where's everybody else?" she asked.

"Kevin's, I don't know, probably hiding or something, Eminya's at work, the Skunk went out to get away from his own stink, and Dagger… I don't know where she is." His face took on a wary look, and Maggie knew he was still a little bit afraid of Yasmin Wong, alias Dagger, the girl who could turn her fingers into knives at will. Dagger had also been at the Children's Home with them, and her favorite pastime had been terrorizing the other children, particularly those younger than her. Although Maggie was two years older than Dagger, she herself had always given Dagger a wide berth—until she decided to create a gang of villains, at which point Dagger had been one of the first people she'd thought of.

No sooner had Chester finished speaking, when Duncan Turpen, alias the Skunk, came tromping down the hall. Duncan was a scruffy guy, around nineteen, with white-blond hair that sported a single black stripe from his forehead to the back of his neck. Of the six gang members, Duncan and Kevin were the only ones who hadn't been prodigies before the Supernova. Maggie had recruited Duncan a year ago, after he'd posted a disparaging article online about the Supernova and all the problems it had caused for the people who'd never had superpowers before and had been perfectly happy without them. Kevin, the blog's most avid follower, had joined soon after.

"Duncan," said Maggie with a glower.

"I know, I know!" Duncan waved his hands beside his face agitatedly. "I lost control, okay? It won't happen again."

"That's what you said last time," Maggie reminded him. "When you and Eminya had that fight?"

"That was Eminya's fault. She refuses to admit she's wrong about anything. Her head is too big for her body."

Maggie couldn't help snorting at the insult, which might have been Duncan's idea of a joke, because Eminya Reinal's head really was too big for her body. At least, it was when she wanted it to be. Balloon Girl, as she'd named herself, could inflate her head up to ten times its normal size, and then float like a helium-filled balloon—the larger her head was, the higher she could float. Maggie had run into Eminya by accident one day, but remembering the look on her face when she'd been rejected at the last Renegade trials ever held, Maggie had taken a chance and, after subtly assessing her viewpoints through a short conversation, invited her to join the gang.

"Still," she told Duncan. "Eminya is not the one who stunk up the whole theater. So the smell was your fault. Just like it was your fault this time. What were you and Kevin arguing about?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "Kevin met some girl at that library he goes to. Said she seemed like she'd be on board with our cause, wanted to tell her all about what we're doing and invite her to join the gang. I said he'd need to talk to you about it first. He got really offended and accused me of calling him untrustworthy, even though I said nothing of the sort."

"So, typical Kevin stuff," Maggie summarized. Kevin Sheeler was by far the most sensitive of their group, and that wasn't just because his ears could pick up sounds from miles away. A pale, skinny teenager with stringy brown hair and a constantly pinched expression, Maggie had no trouble picturing the way he must have been before the Supernova—constantly glued to video games, hardly ever stepping a foot outdoors or interacting with real people. Not like he was much different from that now; he'd just exchanged his video games for the silence of the Wellstone Library, the smallest of Gatlon City's public libraries, which was frequented primarily by old people and had a strict "No talking" rule.

Duncan shrugged. "Basically." He started down the hall, nose wrinkling at the stench. "Are we having our Friday meeting tonight?" he asked Maggie, turning his head to look at her.

Maggie startled. She'd forgotten it was Friday, which meant that she'd forgotten she had to lead a gang meeting in just a couple hours. She checked the time on the cheap watch she'd pilfered from a much-younger child years ago. She'd taken it with the intent of selling it, but upon realizing it wouldn't fetch much of a price, she'd decided to keep it for herself. It had proven to be most convenient.

"We'll meet at seven," she decided. "That'll give everyone time to get home and eat dinner and everything."

Chester and Duncan both nodded, and Maggie held her breath and followed Duncan through the backstage area and toward the stairs that led to the actual stage. While Duncan turned off at the dressing room he'd claimed as his personal space, Maggie continued up the stairs and into the wings area, then across the stage itself to the bedroom she'd set up using props she'd found long before anyone else had moved in. Wooden stage flats with wheels on the bottom made up the four walls, two of which were decorated to look like an actual bedroom. Inside the makeshift room were a small dresser set, a crate that had once been used for costume accessories but which now functioned as Maggie's miniature pantry, and a bed—the mattress of which was lumpy and smelled of mildew, but at least it was an actual bed, which was more than any other members of the gang had.

She set her purse down and pulled out its treasures one by one, laying them on the bed: the earring, the buckle, the watch. Everyone was going to be talking about their weekly earnings tonight at the meeting. That was what they did at Friday night meetings. Of course, it wasn't like Maggie had nothing to report, and as the leader, she wasn't even strictly required to report anything. But she always appreciated the admiring looks she received from her fellow gang members whenever she announced an impressive sum.

Why hadn't she just gone ahead and sold the items? Sure, she'd been talking to Max, and admittedly, she hadn't wanted him to know exactly what constituted her livelihood. But she could have just gone right back into the shop after Max had gone on his way.

I let myself get too distracted, she thought. She could own up to it. She could admit to herself that yes, she had been excited to meet Max Everhart in person. She'd been excited to talk to him, and thus fulfill the ridiculous dream that had burgeoned in her heart when she was eleven years old. But now it was over, she'd gotten what she wanted, it was time to move on. Maggie had a mission.

They congregated in the auditorium. Maggie perched on a stool on the stage, her legs crossed in front of her as she surveyed her audience. The five villains looked ludicrous spread out in the massive auditorium, which boasted a seating capacity of 472. Only a few rows from the front sat Eminya, eating salad out of a plastic container as she sprawled across three of the seats. Duncan was several rows behind Eminya, though positioned way off toward the left side of the auditorium, his face almost completely obscured in shadow. Yasmin was three rows behind him on the right side, using her razor-sharp finger to carve something into the back of the seat in front of her. Chester sat in the center of a row that was almost in the very back, spurting small fountains into the air and catching the water with his mouth. Up in the balcony sat Kevin, his face pained despite the bulky earmuffs he always wore.

"Good evening," Maggie said regally, feeling a sense of pride rise up in her chest as every single one of them looked up at her and returned the greeting. In all honesty, Maggie had no idea how she'd convinced a ragtag group of civilians, most of whom were older than she was, to join a villain gang led by a fourteen-year-old. Actually, a twelve-year-old, at the time she'd started recruiting people. She supposed it was just because these people were losers and had nothing better to do with their lives, but still. She enjoyed the sense of power it gave her, to have people—even losers—look at her as the one in charge.

"First order of business for Friday night meeting," she began with no introduction. "Money. How much did everyone make this week?"

"I made my usual," spoke up Eminya, who, as the only one of them with a real job, consistently made a livable amount. As usual, she handed half of it over to Maggie, and as usual, Maggie was tempted to keep it for herself rather than using it to buy supplies for the cause. Like every time this thought crossed her mind, though, Maggie reminded herself that buying for herself and buying for the cause were in essence the same thing. Maggie's life revolved around the cause.

"Kevin?" Maggie asked when nobody else spoke up.

"Oh." Kevin shrank back in his seat. "I, uh, didn't get any customers today, sorry."

Maggie didn't bother hiding her disgust. Kevin worked as a freelance technology repairman, but he was so bad with people that actually getting customers was a rare occurrence. Maggie and the others had suggested numerous times that he switch over to being a spy, since his superior hearing could lend itself extremely well to eavesdropping. However, Kevin still hadn't accepted that his Supernova-bestowed power was anything more than a curse.

"Duncan? How about you?"

Duncan shook his head. After having been fired from two food-service jobs after losing control over his power and stinking out the entire restaurant, Duncan hadn't tried very hard to get another job. His latest method of earning money had been playing guitar on street corners and waiting for people to give him tips—not the most lucrative of businesses.

Maggie looked at the two younger children, Yasmin and Chester. She knew that Yasmin wouldn't be afraid of holding people at knife point until they gave her all their money, but Maggie had made it clear from day one that armed robbery would not be permitted. Way too much of a chance of being caught and sent to jail, especially because you never knew who could do what these days. Yasmin had grudgingly settled on carving poorly-crafted figurines out of wood, soap, and other materials, but she hadn't made many sales. And Chester—Chester's only source of income was getting children to pay him coins in exchange for pranking their friends and siblings. "No money from either of you this week?"

"I made a dollar," said Chester, holding up a handful of coins and smiling at her with his signature snaggletoothed grin. "You want it?" He pitched his hand back as if preparing to throw the coins at Maggie.

"Keep it," she sighed, resigned. She never asked anyone to donate all their money to the cause—they all had to eat, of course, and Maggie wasn't about to go out buying food for everyone. "All right. Second order of business. The parade is coming up in just a few weeks."

The villains shifted in their seats, their faces taking on mixed expressions of interest, nervousness, and wariness.

"I've said it before, but I'm going to say it again. I think this is the year," Maggie continued. "We've accumulated enough supplies, Eminya and I have done all the research we need, and we're as ready as we'll ever be. This will be the year we make our mark as the Gatlon City Villains."

"Have you talked to our allies about this?" Eminya wanted to know.

"Yes," Maggie replied. "They agree that the time is right. They've said they're willing to help. We'll meet at some point to finalize the plan." She looked from face to face. "Any other orders of business? Kevin, I heard you found a possible recruit?"

"Oh—yes," said Kevin, flinching at the sound of his own voice. He lowered to barely over a whisper, and Maggie strained forward to hear him. "There was a girl at the library today. Her name's Zoridel. She's—well, she's like me and Duncan. She wasn't a prodigy before, and now that she is, she feels kind of gipped about what her power turned out to be. I told her—well, I pitched it hypothetically, of course, but I asked if there was a group of people who wanted to claim power before society starts classifying superpowers by levels of importance, would she be interested in joining, and she said yes. So I got her contact information, but I didn't want to do any more than that until I checked with you." He flinched again as he awaited Maggie's response.

Maggie had no negative feedback. It sounded like he'd handled things appropriately. "All right," she said. "I'll set up a meeting with her coming up, to see whether we can trust her." Trust was a word she used lightly in this sense, as Maggie didn't completely trust anyone, even her own gang members. Anyone in the world could secretly be out to get her, or to betray her for their own gain. Anyone could be leading her on, making her think they were on her side when really they were planning to betray her the moment they got what they wanted.

That was why she had to be so careful about who she let in on the real plan.

"Anything else?" she asked the gang. "Anyone we should be aware of, anyone who seems like they're starting to suspect? Any news about plans to reopen the theater?"

Everyone shook their heads, so Maggie bade them goodnight and disbanded the meeting.

Just a few more weeks, she thought as she stepped back inside her makeshift bedroom. A few more weeks of hiding, sneaking, and stockpiling, and then three years' worth of planning would finally see their result.