The crosswalk lit up with the 'walk' symbol almost as soon as Maggie pushed the button, and the two of them made their way down the rest of the avenue and onto a sidewalk that was even more dilapidated than the one they'd just been standing on. The trees lining the edge of the grounds were old and rickety, and the fifty-foot stretch of grass beyond the trees was in need of a trim. The three-story building perched at the back of the property was made of dark brick, and looked almost foreboding, even in the bright sunlight.
Maggie couldn't resist a small scoff. "Shows how much the Renegades care about abandoned prodigy children, huh?"
Max frowned. "They care. They just have a whole city to run."
"And orphaned prodigy kids are not on the top of their list. Not like I care or anything. I'm just making an observation."
Max opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something, but quickly shut it again and stepped onto the path leading to the home.
With every step, Maggie was struck by memories of living here. Afternoons spent out in the yard with the other kids, sneaking small items out of their pockets and into her own. The time she'd swiped the key to the shed from one of the supervisors, just to see if she could. That morning when she was five or six and had tried to sneak out, very early before anyone else got up, only to be caught by the morning staff. The daily time-outs she used to earn for bossing kids around and sometimes making them cry. Most of all, she remembered the relieved look that had passed over the face of Mrs. Harney, the main supervisor, when some Renegades had come to collect her for her first day on the job. "Make sure you don't leave anything behind!" Mrs. Harney had said cheerfully, urging Maggie to go and check her shared bedroom for displaced belongings.
"Oh, she doesn't need to bring much," the Renegade known as Geyser had assured her. "The only thing we ask Renegades to bring is their superpowers!"
"But what about her everyday clothes, her toothbrush, her personal belongings?" Mrs. Harney had asked.
Geyser had blinked at her. "She's not going to be living at HQ."
Maggie still remembered the way Mrs. Harney had visibly deflated, as if all her hopes had rested on Maggie going away to live with the Renegades and finally being out of her hair. As a dumb eight-year-old, that look had hurt. That was before she'd made the realization that she was better off on her own.
She blinked away the memory, cutting across the front grass with Max in tow, aiming for the double set of wooden front doors with the brass knocker and cheesy telecommunications system. The doors were generally kept unlocked during the day, to allow the older children to come and go as they pleased, but Maggie knew that visitors were expected to buzz in and report their purpose for being there.
She touched the buzzer and the screen crackled to life. "How may I help you?" asked an unfamiliar voice.
"Official Renegade business," Maggie replied smoothly. The word Renegade didn't carry quite as much clout as it used to back when it was rare and exciting to meet a real live superhero, but the Renegades were still—for some unfathomable reason—respected members of the community. "We're conducting an investigation."
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, "What kind of investigation?"
Max stepped up to speak into the intercom. "We have reason to believe that a robbery suspect resides, or previously resided, here. We'd like to come in and speak with whoever's in charge." He stepped back so the camera could catch a good look at the red R emblazoned on his chest. Maggie shuffled away, hoping there wouldn't be any questions as to why she was clad in a simple sweatshirt and jeans.
There was another short pause, and then the woman replied, "Okay, you can come in and take a right, and then it's the first door to your left."
Maggie pushed the door open and couldn't help scowling at the familiar scuffed carpet, the creaky stairs with the loose bannister, and the slightly fetid smell from dozens of little bodies traipsing through the halls multiple times a day. As soon as they stepped inside, her attention was drawn to a small girl with giant silver wings flying across the balcony that looked down from the second floor. "Did you know her?" Max asked, following her gaze.
Maggie shook her head. The girl was little, maybe only four or five. She would've been practically a baby the last time Maggie was here.
"I bet it was weird for the other children's homes," Max commented as they turned down the hallway to the right, toward what Maggie remembered was the administrative offices. "You know, the ones for non-prodigies? When all the sudden every single kid in their facility was, you know—" He gestured up toward the girl with the wings. "I wonder what they did."
Maggie had to smile at the thought. "I bet it was chaos."
"Yeah." He stopped in front of a plain wooden door labeled Annie Scarteppa [Octopus], Head Supervisor. He raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Octopus?"
Maggie shrugged, relieved that Mrs. Harney wasn't still in charge. Annie Scarteppa's name and alias weren't familiar to her, which was a good sign. Depending on how new this woman was, she might not have ever met Yasmin either.
Max knocked, and a moment later, the door opened, and Maggie knew exactly how Annie Scarteppa had gotten her alias. The woman sitting at the desk was short and squat, with a crop of ginger hair that clashed horribly with her pink spectacles. Her arms were disproportionately long for her body—she'd opened the door to the small office without even leaving her desk. And—most striking of all—she had six arms.
Maggie had been around prodigies her entire life, but it still took her a moment before she was able to speak, saying the first thing that popped into her head. "Your alias is inaccurate. You should be the Ant or the Grasshopper or something that has six legs, not eight."
Octopus raised her eyebrows and lifted a sneaker-clad foot above the level of the desk. "I have eight appendages total. Plus, Octopus sounds cooler than naming myself after an insect."
Maggie, slightly surprised that Octopus hadn't told her off for her rudeness the way Mrs. Harney would have, shrugged and threw herself down in one of the three wooden chairs situated around the small room.
"I'm Max," Max introduced himself to the woman, holding out his hand for her to shake. She gripped it with the middle of her three right hands. "Alias the Bandit. This is Maggie, alias Magpie."
"The Bandit?" Octopus's eyebrows shot up, obviously recognizing the alias. "Max Everhart? To what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Um," Max's confidence faltered, and for a moment he looked embarrassed by the reaction. Maggie wondered what that would be like, to be so used to praise and recognition that you actually got embarrassed by it. "We're doing an investigation into a prodigy by the name of Yasmin Wong, alias Dagger. This was her last known place of residence, about two years ago. We were just wondering whether you had any updated information on her, or if anyone here may still be in contact with her."
"Dagger? Hmm, I've heard her mentioned before, but I'm afraid I never knew her personally," Octopus apologized. "Barbara would probably know more, but she's not in today." She slid one of her arms over to the computer sitting on her cluttered desk. "I could look in our records, and see if there's anything there."
"Thanks." Max favored her with a quick smile, and they waited while she typed in a password and navigated to a folder on the desktop.
"Wong, Wong, Wong…" Octopus muttered, her eyes scanning what looked like a collection of subfolders, each one presumably containing records of a child who'd once lived at the home. "Warner… Watts… Werznik… White…"
White, thought Maggie with a jolt. Is that me? Am I still in the system? She tried to crane her head around just enough that she'd be able to read the words on the screen, but not so much as to be obvious about it.
"Wiggin… Wittison…" Octopus was scrolling too quickly for Maggie to be successful in her attempts. "Ah, here we are, Wong. Yasmin, you said?"
Max nodded. Maggie sucked in her breath as Octopus clicked on the file, opening it up to an array of documents. Sweet marvels, thought Maggie. If there's this much information about me stored on that thing… She wasn't sure whether to be flattered or disturbed.
"I'm probably not authorized to give you all this information," Octopus confessed, as if just realizing that she had opened up a file full of a child's private information right in front of two investigators who were hardly older than children themselves. "But what would you like to know?"
"Whatever's the most current information you have," Max replied. "Anything that could help us track her down now. Or—do you guys keep records of behavioral infractions?"
Octopus nodded. "We definitely have that. Would you like me to print it out for you?"
Maggie hid a snort, wondering exactly how many reams of paper Yasmin's rap sheet would take to print out.
"Yes please," said Max.
A few minutes later, five sheets of paper came spitting out of the printer in the corner, followed by a pause, and then a few additional pages. "A picture of her from three years ago, her list of behavioral infractions and the resulting disciplinary actions, as well as her official entry sheet and unofficial exit sheet," Octopus explained, handing the papers to Max. "I hope it helps with your investigation. Is there anything else I can help you with?"
Maggie glanced at the papers in Max's hand, the topmost page of which was the entry sheet, which listed information about the date Yasmin had been brought to the home, how old she'd been, what her powers had seemed to be at the time, and names and whereabouts about possible contacts and relatives. From the minimal information listed on the paper, Maggie gathered that Yasmin's story was much like the stories of most of the kids in the Home—abandoned by civilian parents who were frightened by their children's strange abilities and didn't want to have to deal with them anymore.
"I think that's all," Max was saying. He turned to Maggie. "Can you think of anything else that might be useful in helping us find her?"
Burgeoning curiosity got the better of her. "Do you have any information about a girl named Margaret White?" she asked. "She's not a suspect for anything, but she was a Renegade who disappeared a few years ago, and we never did find out what happened to her."
She could sense Max giving her a strange look out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her attention on Octopus, who frowned slightly and replied, "Is this still part of the investigation? Because I really can't just be giving out people's information—"
"It's part of a different investigation," Maggie lied smoothly. "A missing persons case."
She watched as Octopus's topmost left hand navigated back to the mouse and clicked out of Yasmin's folder. She selected the folder labeled with Maggie's name, and just as much information came up as what had been there for Yasmin. From her vantage point, Maggie couldn't tell what any of it was, but she could see that there were numerous documents.
"All of these documents are at least five years old," Octopus commented, her eyes scanning what must have been the file dates. "Yep—even her exit slip was created five years ago. I don't think any of this will be very helpful for a missing persons case."
"What kind of information do you have?" asked Maggie, getting up and walking over toward the computer.
Octopus immediately minimized the window. "It's mostly things like health records and school report cards. Things you don't have clearance to see."
Maggie put her hands on her hips, affronted. "We're Renegades."
"Do you have written documentation giving you permission to be privy to this information?"
Maggie glanced back, hopefully, at Max, who was regarding her with a bewildered expression. She sighed inwardly. "Never mind. Just give me—give me her entry and exit slip. That's all I really need right now."
Octopus printed the requested information, and Maggie accepted the two flimsy pages, immediately pulling them against her chest. Max eyed her curiously for a moment, then turned his attention back to Octopus. "Thank you very much, ma'am. Do you mind if we walk around and talk to some of the kids? We'll just ask them whether they've talked to Dagger within the past two years and if anyone knows where she might be."
"That's fine," said Octopus. "I'll give you both visitor's badges, and then just make sure you stop by here after you're done to sign out."
The moment she and Max were alone in the hallway, Max turned to Maggie and asked, "Margaret White? Is that you?"
She nodded. His expression softened. "Did they tell you much about your history when you were here? About your parents or whoever brought you here?"
"Some stuff." She fingered the bullet in her pocket. "They said it was the landlord of my apartment building who brought me here after my parents were killed. He told them my name and approximately how old I was, and the story of how he found me and everything." And that I had a sister. A sister who never came back for me.
"Oh," Max's brow lifted some. "So you weren't—I guess I always assumed you were born to non-prodigy parents who were afraid of your powers. That wasn't the case?"
She shook her head. "I don't know whether my parents were prodigies or not. They were murdered during the Age of Anarchy. The murderer tried to kill me too, but," she shrugged. "I ended up a superhero instead." Or a supervillain, if we're being accurate.
"Oh, wow. So you're one of the prodigies who has an actual origin story." He paused. "I mean, I'm sorry? About your parents? Do you remember them?"
She shook her head again, waving a hand in the air. "Not a bit. For all I know they were the kind of parents who would have gotten rid of me just because I was a prodigy. I mean, you know, if I'd gotten my powers while they were still alive." A realization came to her, and she was suddenly surprised she'd never thought of it before. "What about your parents? Your biological parents, I mean." Obviously he hadn't actually been born to Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden.
"Oh, they were that kind of parents for sure, except even worse," he said off-handedly. "They were prodigies—one of them had metal manipulation and the other could fuse matter; I'm not really sure which was which, but as soon as they figured out I was stealing their powers, they pitched me off Sentry Bridge. Captain Chromium caught me, so that's how I ended up with them."
"They pitched you off a bridge?" Maggie knew that she wasn't exactly the warmest and softest person around, but even she was horrified by the idea of someone pitching a baby off a bridge.
Of course, that wasn't any worse than what had happened to her as a baby.
Max nodded. "Yeah. Of course, then they were killed a few months later by Ace Anarchy, so it all worked out."
The mention of Ace Anarchy reminded Maggie of what they'd been talking about before—the helmet, the bracelet, the star, all of the magical items made by Nova's father. That was the key; that was what would give her the most power of all—if she could somehow reunite all of those items, as many as she could find, anything and everything that was made by David Artino.
Suddenly, she felt an overwhelming urge to get out of here, to go straight to the pawn shop and see if that bird figurine was still there, the one that had carried the same signature as Nova's bracelet. And most likely the helmet too, although Maggie hadn't been paying attention to its signature when she'd held it, so she couldn't be sure. "So, are we leaving now?" she asked.
"Leaving?" Max laughed. "We're just getting started. Come on. Let's start down here." He motioned down the nearest hallway, and she grudgingly followed.