A solid rock. That's what it felt like her brain had turned into. Or maybe someone had put something on her head—a hundred pounds of bricks or a huge cement statue or some kind of vehicle.

Why did she feel this way? What had happened?

Keeping her eyes closed and trying to move as little as possible, Maggie assessed her surroundings. Surprisingly, she wasn't bleeding out on a slab of concrete or sprawled facedown on the pavement, as her headache suggested. Rather, she seemed to be lying in a bed.

A very… comfortable bed, with blankets much more voluminous than what she was used to.

Where am I? she wondered groggily, slowly opening her eyes and realizing that she could make out small shapes in the dark. That looks like… some sort of huge, old-fashioned dresser, and that thing over there might be a rocking chair, and the bed I'm lying on is way more comfortable than anything I've slept on in a long time, even when I was with the Renegades…

The Renegades. There was something important there, something she was supposed to remember, something that had to do with how she'd ended up here, wherever "here" was…

The Renegades. The Renegades… oh.

OH.

In a flash, it all came back, and Maggie sat bolt upright, ignoring the throbbing the sudden movement had incited in her head. She was at Max's house. Max and Sketch had shown up unannounced at the theater and invited her over for dinner, and she'd gone with them against her better judgment. It had turned out to be an even worse idea than she'd thought it would be, because Nova was there, and she'd attacked her. Put her to sleep. And the last thing she remembered from before Nova put her to sleep was…

Maggie sucked in a horrified breath as she felt around for her lucky bullet, only to find nothing. No, she thought. Please no. Let her have taken anything else. But not that. Not my good-luck charm. Please not my bullet…

Although she'd already felt for it using her abilities, Maggie used her hands to check each of her pockets and to pat herself down, then to pat down the bed, and the hardwood floor beneath. With every second that passed, she became more and more sure of the awful truth.

Nova had stolen her bullet. Out of a twisted desire for revenge on Maggie for attempting to steal her bracelet, Nova had taken Maggie's most prized possession. Nova knew the bullet was important to her, because Maggie had been stupid enough to reveal that to her back when she was a dumb eleven-year-old.

Panic spiked through Maggie's heart. The bullet wasn't inherently valuable like the bracelet. Now that she'd taken it away from Maggie, there would be no reason for Nova to keep it. She'd probably just throw it away or lose it or—if she was feeling really vindictive—maybe even destroy it.

Get a grip, Maggie, she told herself, annoyed at how upset she was over the loss of a trinket. It's just a stupid bullet. You shouldn't even care that it's gone.

But it wasn't just a stupid bullet. It was the object that had changed everything for her. The object that had turned her into a prodigy. Into a survivor.

And it was in the hands of her worst enemy.

Maggie stomped across the room to the oak-paneled door, which she flung open before stepping into the dark and silent hallway. What time is it? she thought, momentarily distracted by the stillness of the house. It had to be pretty late, since she didn't see any lights or hear any movement. Unless Nova knocked everyone else out too, she thought savagely. She probably did. Max wouldn't have let her get away with stealing from me. And Sketch wouldn't either—he's the one who always used to get on my case about stealing. And Captain Chromium and the Dread Warden wouldn't be too happy to see Nightmare returning to her villainous ways… she probably had to fight off all of them. She was so engaged in her weirdly satisfying fantasy of Nova taking on the entire Everhart family while they each stood up for her one by one, she barely noticed the floorboard creaking behind her.

"Maggie?" Max's tentative voice asked.

Maggie jumped and spun around, her gaze landing on his barely-visible silhouette. All she could see of him was his skinny frame and a few tufts of poofy hair sticking up from the top of his head.

"Max," she said, feeling suddenly awkward about the fact that she was standing in a dark hallway at his house in the middle of the night. Guiltily, she realized she might have woken him up with her stomping. "What time is it? Where's Nova?"

Max took a step closer, and the floorboard creaked again. "Maggie… I'm so sorry that happened to you. I can't believe she did that. I don't think I've ever been mad at her before in my life, but I'm furious with her right now. She had no right to put you to sleep."

Normally the idea of someone being mad at Nova would have pleased Maggie, but right now only one question was on her mind. "Where did she go? Is she still here?"

"She left right after she put you to sleep. You were out for about five hours."

Five hours. Five hours in which Nova could have done anything she pleased with Maggie's lucky bullet.

"Where did she go?"

"Home, I guess. That's where she said she was going. Adrian said she probably felt bad about doing that to you. She—"

Maggie cut him off. "Where does she live?"

Max seemed to pause before answering. "Downtown… why?"

Maggie felt her hands clench into fists. "She took something from me," she growled. "Something very important. I need to get it back."

"Nova took something?" The surprise in Max's voice made Maggie want to throw up. Why did he sound so surprised at the idea of Nova Artino stealing something? She used to be an Anarchist, for the powers' sake!

"That's the thing about villains," Maggie said coldly. "They never quite give up their villainous ways."

"I—Nova's not a villain anymore," said Max. "She's a Renegade. She helped write the new People's Code Authority, in which one of the rules is essentially 'no stealing.' Did you check to make sure whatever you lost isn't around here somewhere? What is it, anyway?"

Maggie didn't feel like explaining the bullet and its significance at this moment. "I already checked everywhere," she said impatiently. "I know Nova stole it. She did it to get back at me for taking her bracelet and keeping it for myself that time she was arrested a few years ago." It wasn't quite the truth, but Maggie didn't want to admit she'd made another pass at Nova's bracelet just a few hours before.

Max still seemed unsure. "Well… then she'll probably give it back… right? You eventually gave back the bracelet."

No, Nova full-on attacked me and took the bracelet back, Maggie thought angrily. And she probably would've taken my bullet back then too, if I hadn't used my powers to grab it from her.

"Whatever," she said. "I don't want to risk waiting that long. Do you guys have a car? Can someone bring me to Nova's house?"

She could sense Max gaping at her. "Maggie… it's like one in the morning right now."

"So? It's not like we have to worry about waking her up."

"Okay, true, but… you don't just show up at someone's house at one a.m."

"And you don't just steal people's stuff either!" Maggie shouted louder than she'd meant to. She saw Max's form cringe in the darkness, probably worried that her shout had woken Captain Chromium or the Dread Warden up. Good. Let them wake up and hear what their two-faced, double-crossing little Anarchist had done.

Even with these thoughts running through her head, Maggie was aware of the irony of what she had just yelled. Here she was, getting all worked up over the fact that Nova had stolen something from her, when she herself had stolen probably hundreds of items over the past half a decade.

That's different, she thought stubbornly. I steal to make a living. Nova stole out of spite.

"What was the item?" Max asked again. "Are you sure Nova stole it? Did you check every—"

"Ugh!" Maggie stomped her foot, turning away from him. Of course he didn't believe her. She'd been a fool to think that Max saw her any differently than how anyone else saw her—as a thieving, villainous crook. Of course he'd side with Nova, the insufferable 'hero' that everyone somehow loved despite the fact that she'd been an Anarchist nearly her entire life. "Go back to bed. I'll find her on my own. I don't need your help anyway."

"Maggie—"

Maggie shuffled toward the staircase, the very place where Nova had put her to sleep five hours ago. She hurried down the steps and out the front door, practically jogging down the flagstone walkway as bitter thoughts ran through her mind. This was stupid. I should've known better. Max is just like everybody else. I don't need him. I don't need anyone.

"MAGGIE!" The shout came just as she'd turned onto the road. Maggie ignored it and picked up her pace, but a moment later she heard hurried footsteps approaching behind her. Maggie gritted her teeth and accelerated into an all-out run, but she was only able to maintain that pace a short while before slowing to walking speed, struggling to catch a breath. The footsteps caught up to her, and a panting, wheezing Max fell into step beside her.

They walked in silence for a few seconds before Maggie finally drew enough breath to speak. "Go—home," she panted. "I'm going—after Nova, and you—can't stop me."

"I'm not—stopping you," Max's winded voice replied. "I'm going—with you."

Maggie pulled up short, surprised. "Why?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be—back at your house looking for—my special item that Nova definitely didn't steal?"

"I'm not going to let you—walk for miles and miles in the dark—alone," Max replied, ignoring her dripping sarcasm. "Besides, do you even know your way around here?"

"None of your business." The words were out before she'd had time to think about them, and for a moment she felt bad. This was Max. Max who had always shown her kindness she didn't deserve.

Max who had taken Nova's side over hers.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Maggie's anger began to give way to uneasiness. What had Max said when he and Sketch had come to pick her up at the theater—something about Sketch not wanting him to roam around the city by himself anymore, because Flamethrower was after him? In this dark suburban neighborhood, there was nobody outside other than Maggie and Max. If Flamethrower were to suddenly jump out from somewhere and attack them, they would have no reinforcements and no way of defending themselves.

"Do your dads know you're out here?" she asked Max. "Or Sketch?"

In the dim light of the moon, she saw him grimace. "No," he admitted. "But it's fine."

"You should go home," she told him. "They'll be worried about you if they wake up and you're gone."

"It'll be fine," Max said again, in a thoroughly unconvincing tone.

Maggie lowered her voice. "What if Flamethrower comes?"

That gave Max pause. He hesitated, indecision written across his face. "Flamethrower… probably won't recognize me out here, in the dark, right?" he asked. "But… ugh, I hate this!"

"Just go home," Maggie insisted. "We're not that far away."

"But then I'd be leaving you out here to get lost!"

"I'll be fine," said Maggie, both irritated and a little touched by his refusal to leave her alone. "I'll probably actually be safer on my own, since you're the one Flamethrower's targeting."

Max reeled back as if he'd been punched, his eyes growing wide with realization, and Maggie instantly wished she could take the words back. "No—Max—I mean—"

"You're right," he said with a mix of resignation and fear. "I'm a danger to everyone I care about. Just like before." He glanced down, then back up again, his eyes full of pleading. "Maggie, please come back to the house with me? We'll—I don't know, we'll figure something out. Nova's team has patrol duty in the morning; maybe we can ride in with Adrian and you can… confront her or whatever then."

Maggie opened her mouth to argue that that was too long to wait, and that there was no way a confrontation with Nova would go over well if her whole team was surrounding her, but she closed it just as quickly. Standing here arguing with Max would do nothing but frustrate both of them, waste time, and possibly put Max at risk of being discovered by Flamethrower. "Fine," she muttered, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Whatever. Let's go."

She began walking briskly back in the direction of Max's house, and she thought she heard him give a little sigh of relief as he followed. It made her feel ever so guilty about the fact that she planned on sneaking back out as soon as she got the chance, but she pushed the guilt away. The Mayor's Mansion was where Max belonged, protected by a loving family inside a colossal fortress designed to keep rich, powerful, important people safe.

Meanwhile, she belonged out on the streets, seeking vengeance and retribution on her own.