Max watched the news report, his stomach sinking. There had been a burglary last night committed by a "small thief" in a black hoodie, thought to be female. The burglar had broken into the Emerson Timepieces production room and stolen a few pieces of silver and gold that would have later been made into the bands of the watches. According to the inventory, only fourteen pieces in all were missing, which was an incredibly small amount compared to how many the factory produced per day. Still, it didn't change the fact that someone had stolen some, and probably would have gotten away with even more if two anonymous vigilantes hadn't shown up and thwarted her efforts.
At Emerson Timepieces.
The watch factory.
The one he'd shown to Maggie.
It didn't mean it was her, he kept reminding himself. The details on the burglar were so vague they could have applied to thousands of different people. Maybe the burglar was Yasmin Wong, or, more likely, some random person he'd never heard of.
He just had the uncomfortable suspicion that that wasn't the case.
"It seems weird," Adrian commented. He, Max, and Nova were seated in the breakfast nook at the Mayor's Mansion, Adrian and Nova having just recently gotten off of early-morning patrol duty, Max getting ready to go in for his investigative shift. "Did it say the factory was on the twelfth floor? Why would someone break into the twelfth floor of a building to steal a few pieces of metal?"
"They said the person probably would've stolen more if the vigilantes hadn't shown up," Nova pointed out. "And maybe they were trying to be low-profile? Steal a few scraps here and there, hope no one notices?"
"But how would they know where to find the scraps in the first place?" Adrian wondered. "And how would they even know the twelfth story of that building had a watch factory? I never knew."
"Maybe they work there," Max spoke up, not wanting to mention the fact that he'd known about the factory, and that he'd shown it to someone who had a history of stealing.
"Maybe." Adrian didn't seem convinced. "But I don't know, I think if I wanted to steal from the place where I work, I'd figure out a less conspicuous way of doing it than breaking in in the middle of the night."
Max glanced at Nova, hoping she wouldn't be offended by his next words. "Nova broke into the artifacts warehouse in the middle of the night when she stole Ace Anarchy's helmet."
They were all quiet for a moment, remembering the tragedy that had occurred that night—Max being impaled by a spear and nearly dying. He still had a scar on his abdomen from that night, just as he still had the scar on his right hand from the time he'd lost concentration while practicing his telekinesis and accidentally skewered his hand on the spire of one of his glass towers. Both times Nova had come to his rescue.
"That's true," Nova said slowly, nodding. "It would've been impossible to do it while anyone else was there; I would've been caught too easily. I can see a watch factory employee doing the same thing."
"But it doesn't make sense," Adrian maintained. "If an employee was going to go through all that trouble of breaking in in the middle of the night, don't you think they would've taken a whole bunch of stuff? I mean, fourteen little pieces, they could've snagged those easily enough while doing their job, just slipped them into their pockets or something." He looked at Max. "Do you think you'll end up getting the case, or are you still investigating that knife-blade kid?"
"Still investigating the knife-blade kid," Max replied, glad for the change of topic. "Yearbook said he got a new lead on her, based on the information Sterling gave me about seeing her with this other girl at the parade last year. We're going to look into it today."
"Sounds good," said Adrian. "Be careful." He cringed. "Ugh, I'm starting to sound like Dad and Pops."
Max laughed. He knew his family worried about him sometimes, concerned that his lack of superpowers made him more vulnerable than the average person. There was a definite flaw in that logic, as there were plenty of prodigies whose powers wouldn't help them in the least if they got into a sticky situation—take his own teammate Yearbook, for example, whose power was remembering the name and face of everyone he'd ever met. Great for his part-time job at the HQ welcoming desk, but not exactly helpful in a fight.
"What are you guys going to do today?" he asked, swallowing his last piece of toast and standing up to clear his dishes.
"I'm going home as soon as we're done cleaning up," said Nova. "Leroy created a new solution last night and I'm eager to see how it will work with my spray gun."
"And I'm going to bed," said Adrian with a yawn. "This no-sleeping stuff really does a number on us normal people." He shot a teasing grin at Nova.
Once the dishes had been cleaned and dried, Max and Nova exited the house together, admiring the vivid colors on the stately oak trees that lined the road. "What's Leroy's new solution?" Max asked as they turned off of Pickering Grove.
"It's supposed to be an instant water-soluble paste," she explained. "The idea is that it could be sprayed at an enemy and immediately harden upon contact, locking their arms and legs in place so they can't move. Then once you're ready to let them move again, you just apply water, because that makes it melt away. Leroy was having trouble getting the chemicals to congeal properly in the apartment, so he said he was going to wait for a relatively cold night and try it outside."
"That sounds cool," Max commented. "I'll buy one of the paste guns when they're ready."
It was a long walk to Headquarters, but Max never minded, especially when he had someone to talk to on the way. He filled Nova in on his latest investigations—skipping over the part about Maggie being with him when he'd visited the children's home—and then she updated him about the progress she'd made with her latest inventions and what kinds of issues she was currently working on addressing in her position as an elected city official. Although it was true that Nova had a good eight more hours in her day than everyone else had, Max was always impressed with the sheer amount of stuff she managed to accomplish every day—from patrol duty, to working at Gadgety Solutions, to perfecting new inventions, to her governmental duties, to her unofficial position as adviser to the Council (Since she was the one who'd ultimately persuaded them to change the way they ran things, they were always seeking her input when new issues arose). And on top of all that, Nova still managed to have time to spend with her friends.
"Hey, I don't know if it'll matter anymore now with the new lead, but I kept meaning to ask you—did you ever know a girl named Eminya Reinal?" Max asked as they neared Headquarters.
Nova wrinkled her nose. "Doesn't sound familiar."
"I think she tried out for the Renegades the same year you did. Her alias is Balloon Girl, and she can inflate her head into a balloon and levitate a few feet off the ground."
"Oh! Yeah…" Nova cocked her head to the side. "I think I do remember her, actually. I don't think the audience treated her very well."
"Do you know if she was ever part of the Rejects?" He knew that Nova had hung around with the gang for a little bit, before they'd mostly split up and left town.
"I don't remember her being there during the time I was with them, but that was only a couple weeks," said Nova apologetically. "Why? Is she part of your investigation?"
"She's the girl Sterling saw with Dagger," Max explained. "The one we got the lead on today." They had reached the entrance to Headquarters. "I'll tell you all about what we find later," he promised as he entered through the revolving door, Nova waving as she continued down toward her shop.
Max's team was congregated at the front desk, where Sampson Cartwright, a.k.a. Yearbook, was seated, bouncing up and down in his chair with unrestrained enthusiasm. "Max!" he called out, waving. "You're finally here!"
Their other two teammates, Deric Loren—Clout—and Rayena Marsh—Windstorm—stood at either side of Yearbook's desk, looking equally relieved to see him. "Yearbook's been driving us crazy," Rayena complained, brushing her always-erratic brown hair out of her face. "He said he wanted to wait to talk about the new lead until the whole team was here."
"Sorry," Max apologized, checking the time on his wristband. He wasn't late, but his whole unit could be impatient at times.
"No problem," said Deric with his usual charming smile. "Hit us up, Sammy."
"So," said Sampson eagerly. "After Max gave me the information about Balloon Girl, I started combing our records for her, and as it turns out, she tried out to become a Renegade during the last year trials were held. She didn't make it, but I was able to find her application information, and using that I was able to track her to her current job! She works at Hamilton Grocery, down on Moss Street."
"And you're sure this is current?" Windstorm asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"She just got hired a month ago," replied Yearbook. "What do you guys think—should we go down there and talk to her?"
"We don't know for sure she'd be there right now," Max pointed out.
"Oh. Right." Sampson's eager face fell, but it was just as quickly replaced by another buoyant smile. "But we could check! I mean, it's at least worth a shot, right?"
Max hid a smile. Although Sampson was the oldest member of the team—in his mid-forties, while Windstorm and Clout were both in their young twenties—his unbridled enthusiasm was often reminiscent of a child.
"I don't see why not," said Deric.
Sampson pumped his fist in the air. "Yes!"
Max was the one with the best mental map of the city, so he led the way to Hamilton Grocery, which was a little under half a mile away. The moment they entered the store, Sampson whispered, "That's her. Checkout Lane number 4."
Max looked over to see an ordinary-looking girl around Adrian and Nova's age standing at the register, scanning a customer's grocery items. "That's Balloon Girl?"
Sampson nodded, tapping his head with his finger. "I never forget a face."
"Guys." Windstorm beckoned them over toward the shopping aisles, not bothering to keep her voice down. "Come on."
They all followed her to the bread products aisle, where she faced them with an exasperated look. "We can not stand at the front of a grocery store wearing Renegade uniforms and acting like we're telling secrets! That's exactly how to call attention to ourselves!"
Deric frowned. "She's right. I'll just go up and ask Balloon Girl what time her shift ends."
It was Max's turn to frown. "Do you have to?"
Deric grinned at him. "Are you jumping to conclusions there, little Bandit? I'm just going to go up and flirt a little." He flashed another one of his suave smiles. "That usually does the trick."
It was with apprehension that Max watched Clout grab a loaf of bread off the shelf and step into Balloon Girl's aisle. He didn't fully understand how Clout's power worked, only that Clout could be exceedingly persuasive when he wanted to be. Clout explained that the information volunteered by people he used his powers on wasn't anything they wouldn't ordinarily share during a long conversation with a friend or after a few glasses of wine, and that he wasn't able to tap into deep, dark secrets that people were actively trying to protect. Still, the whole idea of it was a little disconcerting.
"We probably shouldn't all be standing here watching," Rayena pointed out, and Max reluctantly followed her and Sampson down another grocery aisle.
A few minutes later, Deric came back, a cocky smile on his face. "She gets off in an hour. I said today won't work for grabbing coffee, but maybe tomorrow."
"Are you seriously going to take our possible suspect out for coffee?" Rayena asked, rolling her eyes.
Deric shrugged. "I don't know. Depends on what we find today. So, what's the plan?"
They spent the hour sitting at the tables in the outdoor seating section of a nearby cafe, hashing out their plan, until finally they spotted Balloon Girl exiting Hamilton Grocery. They split up, Windstorm being the only one to directly follow her, while the others took back alleys and side roads, tracking the GPS chip in Windstorm's wristband. After about ten minutes, Windstorm and Yearbook traded positions, so Balloon Girl wouldn't have any reason to be suspicious of the same person following her for several blocks.
Max was the third to directly follow her, as the buildings around them started becoming shabbier and seedier, more and more of them appearing abandoned. After a few minutes, Balloon Girl departed from the main road and turned down Star Lane, a side street that had probably once been a hubbub of activity—lined with restaurants, chain clothing stores, and small electronics shops, with a massive live performance theater dominating the avenue. Now, though, most if not all of the buildings were empty, still abandoned after nearly fourteen years of rebuilding.
The emptiness of the street meant he had to be more careful now. Although he was a good fifty feet away from Balloon Girl, there were no pedestrians in between them, which meant that if she turned around and saw him, he would need to look like he was doing something other than stalking her. And judging by the condition of the places on this road, he'd have a hard time finding a plausible excuse.
Balloon Girl didn't even look back, though, as she took several more paces forward and then turned right before the theater.
Max picked up his pace. Was there an alleyway next to the theater? He mentally pictured his model city, in which the Starlight Theatre was placed almost directly next to Bronson's Grill. There was no room for an entire throughway there—unless his model was inaccurate.
He arrived at the place where she'd turned just in time to see the theater's back door swinging shut. He peered down the narrow gap separating the theater from the abandoned restaurant. The ground was mud, littered with what looked like piles of garbage that had been accumulating for years. She must've gone into the theater.
His heart suddenly pumping excitedly, Max lifted his communication band to his mouth. "Send message to team. Suspect just entered the Starlight Theatre. I'm going to follow her."
Adrian's words echoed in his head as he tiptoed over to the door: Be careful. Logically, he knew he should probably wait for at least one of his team members to arrive before entering the theater. Who knew what he might find in there? But he couldn't stand not knowing what Balloon Girl was doing. Maybe she'd figured out she was being followed and was just cutting through the theater to shake him from her tail. Maybe Dagger was in there. Maybe there was nothing at all suspicious about this place, or about Balloon Girl, and it would just be a waste of time to wait around for the others to arrive, only to discover absolutely nada once they went inside.
Max eased the door open as quietly as he could and poked his head inside. At first all he saw was darkness, but as his eyes adjusted, he realized he was looking down a corridor lined with doors, each of which was labeled with a number in peeling paint. Dressing rooms?
He slipped inside and tiptoed along the hallway as quietly as he could, listening for signs of movement inside the possible dressing rooms. Suddenly, without warning, he was hit by a stream of water right in his face. "Intruder!" a child's voice shouted. "Madam Boss, we have ourselves an intruder, I repeat, we have ourselves an intruder."
Max tried to duck out of the way of the jet of water, but it followed him no matter where he dodged, all the while accompanied by the child's voice. "Madam Boss, I'm serious, get out here with a stun gun or something because we legit do have an intruder."
Madam Boss? Max wondered. Was that Balloon Girl? Madam Boss of what?
A door somewhere down the hallway burst open—at least, that's what it sounded like; Max's eyes were too busy being bombarded by water to see what was going on. "Out of the way," a voice growled, though it didn't sound like it was directed at him.
He heard the click of a weapon being readied at the same moment the barrage of water stopped. He brought his soaked sleeve up to his face and wiped his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. What he saw made his breath hitch.
A gun was pointed right at him.
He didn't have time to think. He reached down into the side of his boot and pulled out the blow-dart pen he'd bought from Nova and Leroy's shop back when it had first opened. He carried it with him wherever he went, always loaded with a mild sedative capable of knocking attackers out for two to five minutes. He took aim and—
A figure rammed into him, shoving him up against the wall. The pen clattered to the ground, and something cold and hard pressed up against his neck. He found himself staring into the enraged face of a girl a couple years younger than him. A girl with black hair and narrowed eyes, who he recognized immediately before he had even realized what she was holding at his throat.
It was Dagger.
"You think you can just come in here and kill our boss?" Dagger snarled. "You think you can shoot her with a poison dart or whatever you have in that pen? Well, think again, loser!" She increased the pressure on his neck, and Max fleetingly wondered if this was really about to be it, if he was really going to be murdered by a twelve-year-old.
Then a horrified—and slightly familiar—voice sounded from the direction the water and the gun. "Wait! Yasmin, stop! Don't hurt him!"
The pressure on his neck lightened up, but Dagger still had him firmly held against the wall, her elbows and forearms on his chest, keeping him locked in place. Max turned his head to see who had spoken, and felt a wave of shock crash over him. Standing in the hallway next to a small boy with disheveled hair and a fierce expression, holding a silver gun of some kind in her hands, was Maggie.