“Look, I won you a prize,” she said, promptly passing it on to him.
“What? You don’t want it?”
“I truly don’t.”
Adrian held the doll out at arm’s length. “I should probably be flattered, but I can’t help but feel that there might be something a little creepy about having a giant doll of your dad lying around.”
“You think?”
He peered at her over the doll’s head. “Will it hurt your feelings if I give it to him for his birthday? He will find it hysterical.”
The doll was pretty hilarious, with its mop of felted hair and flimsy cape. “Do with it what you will,” she said. “My feelings will survive.”
He tucked the doll under one arm as they started to make their way through the carnival again.
“How weird is it?” Nova asked. “To know that so many people completely, blindly idolize your dads like that?”
“Honestly, the weirdest part is that you sort of get used to it after a while.” Adrian shrugged. “And I’d rather people idolize them than want to kill them. Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be much middle ground with how people feel about the Council.”
She tore her gaze away.
“Luckily, these days, more people appreciate prodigies than despise them. I know there are still people out there who don’t trust us, especially after all the things they went through under the villain gangs.”
Nova knew it was true. Even today, walking around the carnival in her Renegade uniform, there wasn’t much variety in the reactions she got from complete strangers. Either they stopped to stare at her with slack-jawed smiles and awestruck eyes, whispering giddily once she passed, or their expressions soured upon noticing the gray uniform and the red R, and they would promptly cross the path or turn another direction entirely.
She couldn’t be sure, though, if that hatred was directed at Renegades, or all prodigies. People were still afraid of them, and rightly so. Even those who admired the Renegades, their supposed protectors, still seemed to harbor a respect that bordered on nervous insecurity.
Hero or villain, all prodigies were powerful. All prodigies were dangerous.
“—most people can see that we’re not all like that,” Adrian was saying, drawing her attention back to him. “Life is far better now than it ever was when Ace Anarchy was in charge, and that’s because of the Renegades.” He shook the doll. “And the Council.”
Nova frowned. “Ace Anarchy wasn’t actually in charge,” she said, before she could restrain herself. “I mean, he … he was probably technically the ruler of the Anarchists, but I don’t think he really wanted to rule, you know? He mostly … just … wanted the oppression of prodigies to stop.” She swallowed. “At least that’s what it always sounded like to me.”
Adrian’s lips quirked. “How forgiving does a person have to be in order to defend Ace Anarchy?”
“I’m not being forgiving. I’m just … I just think that he gets blamed for everything that happened during those years, when really … so much of it was because of the other gangs that rose to power in the absence of government. And that’s not what he was trying to accomplish, either. He was all about personal freedom, personal responsibility, about taking care of yourself and your own, rather than expecting anyone to take care of you. He wanted to do away with oppression and regulations that only serve a small group of people, and … and … um.” Her face flushed. “At least … that’s … that’s what some people say. About him.”
Rather than looking at her like she had lost her mind, as Nova expected, Adrian’s smile had grown. “Well, I have a feeling that if those people had ever actually met Ace Anarchy, they might feel a little differently.”
Nova tensed. “Why? Have you met him?”
“Afraid not. And I’m not sorry that I’ll never have the chance.” His expression turned serious as he peered at her. “You don’t actually think things are better now because of him. Do you?”
She considered her response for a long time. “I think a lot of horrible things happened during the Age of Anarchy, a lot of things that shouldn’t have happened. But I also think that if Ace Anarchy hadn’t done what he did … then this”—she tugged on the doll’s cape—“wouldn’t be possible. Prodigies would still be in hiding. People would still hate us.”
Adrian’s lips went taut, and Nova wondered if she had said too much.
But then he sighed. “I guess I can’t argue that. But still, I can’t help but believe that there was a better way to get from there to here.”
Nova thought of all the buildings destroyed, all the people killed. Her sigh mimicked his. “I can’t argue with that, either.”
“One good thing that definitely came out of that time,” said Adrian, opening his arms wide, “is that now, we have superheroes. Maybe that’s the difference. Before, people saw us as freaks with scary powers. Now, they see us as … as inspirations.”
“Inspirations?”
“Sure. Everyone wants to be a hero. When you think about it, it’s a little sad that so few actually get to be one.”
Nova couldn’t contain a derisive sniff. “It would be sad, except they don’t actually mean it.”
Adrian cocked his head at her. “What do you mean?”
“There’s no rule that says you have to be a prodigy to be a hero,” she insisted. “If people wanted to stand up for themselves or protect their loved ones or do what they believe in their hearts is the right thing to do, then they would do it. If they wanted to be heroic, they would find ways to be heroic, even without supernatural powers.” She waggled her fingers in mockery of said powers. “It’s easy to say you want to be a hero, but the truth is most people are lazy and complacent. They have the Renegades to do all the rescuing and saving, so why should they bother? It’s easier to just call the hotline, then turn the other way and pretend it’s not your problem to solve.”