This can't be happening.

Maggie could only stare in horror as his eyes met hers. Max. Here, in her theater, being held at knifepoint by the very prodigy she'd been "helping" him look for.

The prodigy she had just called by name.

As she processed all this, replaying the last several seconds in her head in an attempt to determine exactly how incriminating her own words had been, she recalled what Yasmin had said: You think you can just come in here and kill our boss? You think you can shoot her with a poison dart or whatever you have in that pen? Well, think again, loser!

Yasmin hadn't been part of the original conflict. She'd entered the hallway just barely after Maggie had raised her stun gun to point at the intruder—to point at Max. Yasmin hadn't needed to involve herself at all.

But she had immediately charged at Max, disarming him of his weapon and putting him in a disadvantageous position… to protect Maggie?

Why?

"Why?" That was the same question Yasmin was asking, staring at her with a disbelieving expression as she continued to hold Max against the wall. Max probably could have pushed her away if he'd wanted to—he and Yasmin were roughly the same size—but she guessed he was afraid of having his throat slit if he tried anything.

Maggie collected herself, trying to sound steely and commanding as she said, "Because I know him."

Surprise and immediate guilt flooded Yasmin's face, accompanied by a hint of fear, as if she worried Maggie was going to punish her for her mistake. She backed away from Max, muttering a quick apology.

Max tentatively stepped away from the wall, rubbing his neck and staring, not at Yasmin, but at Maggie. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I could ask you the same thing."

His gaze cut over toward Yasmin for a fraction of a second before flitting back to hers. "I'm investigating."

Her mind screamed at her. This couldn't be happening. Not now, when they were so close. The parade was just around the corner, and then she would get everything she'd ever wanted. She would have the helmet, and her gang would have made their debut as the Gatlon City Villains, and she would be the head of it all.

But not if the Renegades found them out first.

"There's nothing to investigate here," Maggie told him coldly. "Just some kids who didn't want to live at the Prodigy Home anymore and found somewhere new to live." She gestured toward the light coming in from the stage. "This place has electricity, heat, running water, everything we need, and it's not being used by anyone else, so," she shrugged. "Free lodging."

Max's eyes were still flickering from her to Yasmin, and then to Chester, who was still poised at Maggie's side, pointing his fingers threateningly in Max's direction. "None of the other buildings on this street have all that stuff," he said suspiciously. "You're saying that this building just happened to have all the utilities when you found it?"

"Yes," Maggie lied. As a matter of fact, when she'd first found the theater after leaving the children's home, it hadn't had any of the utilities she'd mentioned. Those had all come about a month later—one day she'd woken up to bright lights shining in her face and realized that the theater now had electricity. She knew the Renegades had been systematically working to restore power to the entire city, but the restoration of all the utilities to her theater so soon after she'd moved in had been an unexpected gift.

"But why—" Max broke off. "Never mind. My team is coming. I followed Balloon Girl here in the hopes that I might find Dagger." He looked at Yasmin again. "The convenience store robber."

Yasmin pointed a bladed finger at him. "See?" she demanded to Maggie. "I was right to threaten him!" She brandished her hands at Max. "How many people are on your team? How many people are coming?"

"Relax," Maggie hissed through gritted teeth, her mind racing. She and Chester could leave, let Yasmin be caught by the Renegades and brought in for questioning. But would Yasmin give them all away? Would she give away the plan?

And besides, for some incomprehensible reason, Yasmin had saved Maggie from what she'd perceived as a threat to her life. Maggie couldn't in good conscience just allow her to be caught.

"Why'd you do it?" Max asked Yasmin.

Yasmin sneered at him. "What, rob the convenience store? A girl's got to make a living somehow. And most places don't exactly let twelve-year-olds apply for jobs."

"The Renegades do," said Max. "I bet you'd be good on a patrol unit."

"I don't exactly care about other people enough to devote my life to saving them," said Yasmin.

"You saved Maggie from being hit by my dart," Max pointed out.

"That's different. She's the lea—" Yasmin licked her lips and swallowed. "Lea…ser of this place. Of the theater. She invited me and Chester to move in with her."

"Yeah, we're like family," Chester added, and Maggie raised her eyebrows. She did not think of her gang like family. They were just necessary pieces of the puzzle, cogs in a wheel, components to a computerboard. United for a small amount of time as they worked toward a common goal, each for their own separate reasons. Once Maggie took power over the whole city, they could all go and do whatever villainous things they each wanted to do, and she wouldn't have to bother with them anymore.

"We have to bring you in for a trial," Max told Yasmin calmly. "My guess is, because of your age, you won't be given a heavy sentence. Maybe some community service or something. But we can't let you just get away with threatening people's lives like that."

"You don't have proof I did anything," Yasmin retorted.

"You're the only prodigy in the database with bladed fingers, not to mention you pretty much just admitted to it less than a minute ago. Listen. Everything will go much more smoothly if you just come to Renegade Headquarters with me. We'll set a court date, determine what the consequences will be if you don't show up to your trial, and then let you go." He locked eyes with Maggie again, and it almost looked like he was beseeching her. "Please. It'll be much easier this way."

Maggie once again mentally reviewed her options. Maybe Max was right. Maybe Yasmin would just have to undergo a quick trial and an annoying-but-not-life-altering punishment. Maybe after all that happened, Yasmin would be free to go and no one would feel the need to investigate any of them further.

But what if he was wrong? What if they decided to lock Yasmin away in prison, like they always used to do with prodigy criminals, no matter what their age or crime? Or worse, what if the Renegades decided they needed to search the theater for evidence?

For that matter, were they more likely to search the theater if Yasmin came in willingly or not?

And if Yasmin didn't come willingly… what could they do? Even if they knocked Max out, the rest of his team would be arriving any minute now. And even if they somehow managed to overpower all of them, the storeroom wouldn't be safe. Other Renegades would eventually show up, and finding an unconscious investigative unit on the premises would definitely make them want to search the entire place.

The moment she'd had the thought, she became aware of a scuffling sound behind the door that led outside.

They were already here.

Max didn't have to look behind him to know that the sound he was hearing was that of his teammates arriving. He locked eyes with Maggie again, half wishing he'd never found this place at all. Yasmin Wong needed to be brought in for questioning, no doubt about it. But would Maggie get in trouble too, for harboring a known criminal?

He'd barely had time to think these thoughts before Dagger disappeared through the single lit doorway, followed by the little boy. Maggie remained where she was, fixing him with a defiant, determined stare.

"Magpie!" Sampson's surprised voice carried the same joviality it always held when greeting Renegades at the welcoming desk at Headquarters, and Max realized with a start that he and Maggie had probably known each other for years, all that time when Max was stuck in his quarantine. It was strange, all the sudden, envisioning Maggie interacting with all the people Max saw on a daily basis now, back during a time when he was the kid who every Renegade had heard about but hardly of them had ever actually met.

He watched surprise flit across her face as well, and then it was gone, replaced by a scowl. "What are you doing here?"

"I see you haven't changed a bit," Sampson chuckled. "I'm an investigator now! I'm not sure if you knew this, but I'm a prodigy! I can—"

"Yearbook!" Rayena barked. "Investigators do not brag about their powers to possible suspects!"

"Oh, so I'm a possible suspect?" Maggie flicked a disdainful look over toward Rayena. "A suspect in what, may I ask?"

"Not a suspect," Deric contradicted, stepping forward. "But possibly someone who could give us information about a suspect."

Max saw Maggie tense, and she briefly met his eyes again before gesturing to him with her thumb and replying, "He already asked me about your suspect. I told him I don't have any information."

Max's gut clenched as his three teammates all turned to look at him. "Is that true?" Deric asked.

His insides squirmed and roiled, his thoughts battling each other. He knew the right response, of course. He was a Renegade. He needed to tell the truth. He needed to explain that Maggie was lying and that in fact, Dagger had just been right there, in this very building, and that she'd run off through the lit doorway.

But then why wouldn't the words come out? Why did he feel the urge to confirm that yes, he'd already asked Maggie about Dagger and she'd never seen her before in her life?

Maybe it was the desperation he saw in Maggie's eyes, the way she was silently pleading with him to go along with her story. She obviously cared deeply for Dagger. She had protected the girl's identity during the trip to the children's home, and though Max probably should have been angry with her for lying to him, he couldn't help feeling a surge of respect for her loyalty. He would have done the same thing, right? He had done the same thing, kind of, back when the Sentinel had been on the Renegades' wanted list, and he'd been the only person who knew the Sentinel was Adrian.

Of course, the things Adrian had done as the Sentinel were a lot less questionable than holding people at knife-point in order to commit a robbery.

"Bandit?" Deric asked, looking confused at his lack of response. "Is that true?"

Max let out a shaky breath. "She didn't see where Balloon Girl went," he responded, intentionally avoiding Maggie's gaze. "But my guess is she might've gone out that way." He pointed in the direction Dagger had fled, a half-hearted attempt to make up for the information he was withholding.

The air around them rustled, the doors on either side of the hallway shuddering in their frames as Rayena sent a gust of wind through the corridor. "What's in these doors?" Rayena asked Maggie.

"My private stuff," Maggie replied, clearly affronted. "I don't know why you people seem to think it's okay to come barging in to someone's house looking for some suspect."

"This is your house?" Deric took a step closer to Maggie. "Does Balloon Girl live here too?"

"Is that any of your business?"

"As a matter of fact, it is." Deric took another step toward her. "We're investigators, and we believe Balloon Girl might have some information we need."

He was close enough to use his powers on her now. Maybe he already was using them. It would probably be a losing battle. What had the little boy said? We're like family. If Clout's powers really did work the way he always claimed, with people staying true to their innermost selves no matter what, there was no way Maggie would be giving up one of the members of her family.

"Where's Balloon Girl?" Deric asked calmly.

"I don't know." Maggie's face had taken on an odd expression, like she was fighting some kind of internal battle.

"What about Dagger? Yasmin Wong?"

"I—I—stop, you're just like him! Except you're not just like him, because he was better than you, and he would never force his way into someone's head for his own personal gain!" Maggie's face had gone red with anger, her eyes wet with sudden unshed tears.

Deric stepped backward, regarding her with shock. Sampson and Rayena too, were giving her bewildered looks, and Max felt his own curiosity burgeon. Every time he'd seen Maggie, she was always so cool and collected—sassy and sharp-tongued, perhaps, but not quick to explode. Did Deric's powers extend to the evoking of strong emotional reactions?

And who was he?

Deric had the same question. "Who am I just like?"

"No one. It doesn't matter," she said venomously, turning away to wipe her eyes on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

Max tentatively stepped forward, not sure what he was going to do or say, but wanting to comfort her somehow. "Maggie…"

"Can you all just leave." She was glaring at the ground, arms crossed, voice quaking ever so slightly, eyes brimming with yet more unshed tears. "This is my house, you're all intruders, and I don't have information on any of your suspects. Also, I don't appreciate having my mind manipulated." She lifted her head to glare at Deric.

"Normally people don't notice when I'm doing it," he mumbled.

"Oh, yeah, that makes it so much better," Maggie snapped sarcastically.

"Um, I would like to remind everyone," Sampson spoke up tentatively. "Clout, Windstorm, Bandit, according to the Gatlon City People's Code Authority, we are not allowed to detain a civilian for questioning unless we have concrete evidence that they have committed, witnessed, or are privy to a crime. This young lady has answered our questions; I think it's best we get going."

"Yearbook's right," said Rayena. "We don't have any concrete evidence Dagger's connected with this place, and we don't have a warrant to look around. Of course, I was under the impression that this was city property, in which case we wouldn't need a warrant, but we'll have to go up to HQ to check whether that's true."

She breezed over to the door, leaving a small air current behind her, and Sampson and Deric followed. Max looked back at Maggie.

She met his gaze and held it. The desperation was still in her eyes, accompanied by worry and a raw pain that hadn't been there before. He understood. She didn't fully trust him to keep her secret.

He didn't blame her. He didn't know if he trusted himself to keep her secret. What kind of Renegade was he if he intentionally let a criminal—the very criminal he was supposed to be tracking down—get away right under his nose? What kind of teammate was he if he purposely withheld information that would help his team with their case?