Nearly a full day had passed since the Renegades had found the theater, and Maggie had realized that there actually was something worse than them coming back: the knowledge that they might come back. She'd hardly gotten a wink of sleep last night, ears perking up at every little sound, eyes darting around the darkened room for items she could use as weapons if the need arose. Gargoyle was in the cellar, guarding the door to the storeroom, and Zoridel had claimed one of the empty dressing rooms as her sleeping quarters. Maggie knew it was mostly in her head, but their very presence cast a different sort of aura around the theater. An aura of unease.

Maggie got up early, too jumpy to attempt to sleep for any longer. She turned on the small lamp she kept by her bedside, not ready for the bright stage lights yet. Reaching into her secret hiding place at the back of her bottom dresser drawer, she pulled out the tiny golden bird crafted by David Artino. She looked at it for a long time, turning it from side to side, intent on figuring out what kind of secrets it held.

"You have to do something," she whispered to it. "You have to be imbued with some sort of power. But what is it?"

Once again, she practiced her telekinesis, trying to move objects heavier or less valuable than she was normally capable of, but there were no blatant changes in her skill. Sighing, she set the bird back in its hiding spot.

As she pulled back from setting the bird down, her fingers brushed the folded piece of paper beneath it—her entry slip to the children's home from nearly fourteen years ago. Maybe now would be a good time to finally read it. It would at least provide a welcome distraction from worrying about the Renegades barging in.

Just as she was about to unfold the paper, though, her eye caught on a flash of movement outside her room. She darted to the doorway and called out, "Hey!"

The figure on the stage flinched, and even in the dull light emanating from the lamp inside her room, she could tell by the body language that it was Kevin. "What are you doing?" she asked, only lowering the volume of her voice ever so slightly.

He flinched again, then turned around, slowly, to face her. "I was just—going down to check on Gargoyle," he muttered. "Make sure everything's—okay."

She didn't bother to hide her exasperation. "Kevin, use your hearing. Take your headphones off and just listen to what's going on downstairs, and that should give you an idea of whether everything's okay, and what exactly he's doing. Sounds a lot better than physically going down into a cellar with Gargoyle, doesn't it?"

Kevin shook his head. "I never wanted to be a prodigy. I never asked for an excessive, over-the-top amount of hearing. I refuse to use it."

"Well, that's dumb," Maggie said frankly. "You may not have asked for it, but you have a superpower now. You can't change that. Maybe you'd hate it less if you actually did something with it."

Kevin hung his head, shame momentarily filling his features. When he raised it again, there was a hint of defiance flashing in his eyes. "That boy who came in here yesterday. The one who was here first. You know who he is, right?"

Maggie kept her expression as guarded as possible as she replied, "Yes."

"He's Max Everhart. Formerly known as the Bandit. And do you know why he was called the Bandit?"

She did, but she wasn't sure how common knowledge it was, so she didn't answer.

"He used to steal the powers of every prodigy he came across. Which might sound cool, at first, but it was such an inconvenience that he had to be locked away in a room known as the Quarantine, and he wasn't allowed to be around anybody else."

"I already know all that. I used to be a Renegade, remember?" She frowned. "How do you know all that?"

"I know all that because I am good with computers, and research, and hacking," Kevin replied. "All skills which require no superpowers whatsoever. Skills I chose to have, by practicing them over and over. But the point is, do you think Max Everhart liked having those powers? Having to be kept separate from everyone else?"

She kept her frown fixed firmly on her face as she pondered the answer. Max hadn't liked having the power of absorption. He hadn't liked needing to be kept apart from everybody, and he'd always felt bad about the powers he unintentionally stole. He'd told her as much one of the first times they'd ever talked.

But he had handled his unwanted powers so differently from Kevin. He hadn't sulked around and refused to ever use them just because he wished he wasn't a prodigy. He'd made the best of his situation. And in the end, he'd used his powers to help defeat Ace Anarchy.

If Max still had his power of absorption now, he wouldn't be like Kevin. She was sure of it. He'd be doing whatever he could to help the Renegades, even from within the quarantine. He'd be prepared to use his powers if the need ever arose again.

Like if a new villain excavated Ace Anarchy's helmet and rose to power.

Maggie's heart clenched. Clearing her throat, she asked in an annoyed tone of voice, "What's your point, Kevin?"

"My point is that powers aren't permanent. Or, they don't have to be permanent. Max Everhart was once a prodigy. Now he's not. That's what the Supernova was all about. He put on Ace Anarchy's helmet and took all the superpowers in the world. Then he got rid of all of them—even his own original superpower. That's what I'm going to do too." His gaze was earnest and hopeful as his lips curved into a rare smile. "When we get the hel—"

"Kevin!" Had he just forgotten that they had two people in their theater now who didn't know anything about the real plan? Had he forgotten that the Renegades themselves might come barging in at any moment?

Kevin flinched backward at the sound of her voice, covering his earmuffs the way one would cover their ears. "What?" he complained. "They're sleeping, both of them. I can hear their brea—" A look of panic came over his face. "I didn't mean to do that."

Maggie smirked. "Comes in useful, doesn't it?"

Kevin scowled, scuffing the floor with the tip of his toe. "It doesn't matter. When we get it, I'm going to create another Supernova. Except this time, it'll be me ending up with no powers. And maybe I can figure out a way to disperse them differently this time, so that the people who don't want superpowers won't get them. Or people like Duncan can get different ones this time around."

Earnestness had returned to his expression, and there was so much hope in his eyes that Maggie bit back the derisive comment she'd been about to make about how Kevin clearly had no understanding of why the Supernova had worked the way it did. Instead, she tucked the piece of paper she was still holding into her pocket and stepped out of her room. "Our success depends on whether or not we can keep this place undisturbed until the right time. So do your part and be on the lookout, or rather, the listen-out, while I'm gone." She stalked backstage, down the short set of stairs and into the hallway with the dressing rooms.

"Where are you going?" Kevin called after her.

"Damage control," she replied without looking back.

She'd never admit it, but his talk about Max had made her antsy, reminding her that Max knew where they were located, knew where Yasmin was located, knew that Maggie had covered for her, and could divulge this information to anyone at any time. A foolish idea had been brewing in her head even before she'd started talking with Kevin, and her conversation with him had cemented it.

She was going to Renegade headquarters.

This is stupid, this is stupid, this is stupid, she thought with every footstep, keeping her eyes on the spired tower of the tallest building in the city. What was she going to do, just walk into the building and ask to speak with Max Everhart? And if, by some crazy chance, she did get the opportunity to talk to Max, what in the world would she say to him?

Still, at least she was doing something. That was better than sitting around at the theater waiting for enemies who may or may not come.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the familiar doors, the doors she'd entered every single day for a good two and a half years of her life. She took a deep breath and stepped inside.

It was an odd sensation, stepping onto the landing that overlooked the lobby, noticing how so much of HQ still looked exactly the same as it had looked when she'd worked there, while other parts had changed drastically. There was still a Renegade R inset into the glossy white floor below, still couches and coffee tables speckling the lobby, still television screens announcing the local news, most of which appeared to be about the still at-large Flamethrower. But the glass quarantine that had served as Max's home—and his prison—for nearly a decade was completely gone, replaced by a large screen attached to the far wall, which was displaying several photos of smiling people, captioned Everyday heroes: You don't have to be a Renegade to make a difference.

The Renegades were certainly pushing a different narrative now than the one they'd toted back when she'd been part of the organization. She rolled her eyes and started down the stairs.

And froze halfway down, because there at the information desk was Sampson Cartwright, one of the Renegades on Max's team. She wasn't sure why she was surprised to see him there, since he'd been the greeter for as long as she could remember. She supposed she had assumed that now that he was a prodigy doing field work, he wouldn't be working at the front desk anymore.

Someone still has to work at the front desk, she reminded herself. There's no such thing as prodigy and non-prodigy jobs anymore, because there's no such thing as non-prodigies anymore!

Except the person she had come to see.

She gulped and walked forward, toward Sampson. This is good. If Max decided to tell anyone, his team would be the first ones to know. So if Sampson's reaction reveals any signs of suspicion…

He beamed when he saw her. "Magpie! We meet again! What brings you here today?" Without waiting for an answer, he opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a piece of paper. "Are you here to apply to become a Renegade again? I'm not sure we could get you your old position back, because those kinds of jobs are mostly being handled by non-Renegade construction crews now, but I'm sure we could—"

"I'm not here for that." She cut across him, even as relief at his non-reaction swept through her. "Is Max here?"

"The Bandit? I think so, though I wouldn't know where exactly to find him." He looked down at the black communicator band he wore on his wrist. "Want me to call him for you?"

The word no was on the tip of her tongue, but then what would have been the point of coming all the way here? "Sure," she mumbled.

"Send message to the Bandit," Sampson directed his wristband. "Magpie is here to see you in the lobby."

They waited in silence for a few seconds before Sampson looked up from his wristband. "He's on his way down."

Maggie nodded, and in an attempt to distract herself from the way her heart was suddenly thudding against her chest, started examining the floor directory on the wall next to Sampson's desk. Most of the designations were the same as they'd been during her time as a Renegade—training halls in the sublevels, cafeteria on the fifth floor, the med wing just above the lobby. But it seemed that several new departments had been added since she'd last been in here, filling in some of the floors that had previously been empty. The sixty-third floor was now "Eagle Eye's Perch", whatever that meant. The forty-eighth floor had been labeled "Arboretum/Milking Zone" There was a whole new lounge taking up the entire fifty-ninth floor.

Her breath hitched as her gaze fell on the designation for the fourteenth floor. Rather than being labeled Artifacts Warehouse as it had previously been, it now bore the name Callum Treadwell Museum.

The Callum Treadwell Museum? What the—?

"Hi Maggie."

She spun around to see Max, standing a few paces behind her, a hint of uncertainty in his posture. His hands were tucked in his pockets and he seemed to be trying a little too hard to look natural.

"Oh. Hi." She backed away from the directory, surreptitiously glancing down at his wrist. She could barely see the hint of a ruby protruding from under his sleeve.

Somehow, this observation mollified her. He was still wearing the bracelet he'd made with her. That had to mean he didn't hate her, right?

"You… wanted to see me?" Max seemed to be struggling to meet her gaze.

She nodded. "Are you busy?"

He shrugged. "Not really. I was just doing some research, but I can do that later." He glanced up toward the revolving door through which she'd come in. "Do you want to… maybe… go for a walk?" His discomfort was evident, and he seemed to be avoiding Sampson's gaze as much as he was avoiding hers.

"Okay. Yeah."

"Okay." He turned to face Sampson. "I'll be back in a bit, Yearbook. Call me if you need me." He held up his communicator band, then started walking toward the exit. Maggie followed, trying her best to keep her nerves under control.