“He was a criminal,” said Hugh, “in a different time, a different society. If we started punishing everyone for crimes committed a decade ago, we’d have no one left in this city to defend.”
“We’re still recovering from the Age of Anarchy,” added Simon. “The code authority protects the rights and privacies of everyone, even those who were once involved with the villain gangs. Because how can we expect people to change if we don’t give them the chance to?”
Adrian glowered, unconvinced. It seemed to him that having a gun that could be traced back to Gene Cronin was plenty reason to search his library, but he could see he wouldn’t be making headway in this argument anytime soon. “Have you picked a team for the surveillance yet?”
“No, but we’ll probably use—”
“We volunteer.”
Simon hesitated, his fork halfway to his mouth with a strawberry speared on its tines. “What?”
“Adrian—” started Hugh.
“Don’t say no,” he insisted, his gaze swiveling between them. “Just listen. We want to be involved with the Nightmare investigation, and this would be an easy way for us to do that. Nobody else is going to want to sit outside a public library all night, waiting for something exciting to happen. And we’ll have the new girl—Nova. She doesn’t even need to sleep.”
Simon’s brow furrowed thoughtfully and Adrian could see that this, at least, seemed to carry some merit with him.
“Why are you so interested in the Nightmare case?” said Hugh, throwing another batch of mail into the garbage bin.
“My team has faced off against her twice now,” said Adrian. “It’s starting to feel a little personal. Besides … she attacked you.”
Hugh snorted dismissively, and Adrian couldn’t tell if it was a show, or if he really didn’t feel that Nightmare’s attack warranted concern.
“I’m serious, Dad. If you hadn’t noticed, she almost killed you.”
A muscle flexed in Hugh’s jaw.
“And she took down Tamaya with … with a fishing net,” Adrian went on. “Not to mention being partially responsible for Monarch’s injuries, and managing to evade Oscar and Ruby and”—he inhaled sharply, rolling one hand through the air in a gesture that he hoped showed some amount of indifference—“that Sentinel guy too. Her power might not seem like much, but she is a threat. We can’t underestimate her again.”
“We’re not underestimating her,” said Simon. “We are taking the attempted assassination very seriously. So seriously, in fact, that it would be irresponsible to send an inexperienced street patrol unit to do an investigative job.”
Adrian tensed, heat rising into his cheeks. “Over the last year I think our team has more than proved our ability to handle any assignment sent our way.”
“Except for the two times Nightmare got away?” said Simon.
Adrian scowled. “Low blow, Pops.”
Simon’s expression softened. “Look, we’re not saying that we don’t think you could handle this. If anything, we’d rather keep you out on patrol duty, where your skills are truly used to everyone’s advantage. Did you know crime rates went up eight percent last quarter? We need every unit on the streets we can get.”
“And how much could a guy like Gene Cronin be playing into those rates?” Adrian said, forcing himself to speak slowly. To sound rational. “If he really is selling illegal weaponry to criminals, how much good could be done just by capturing this one guy?”
“And for that,” said Hugh, “we’ll be sending an investigative unit.”
Adrian sighed in frustration. “Come on, give it to us. Please.”
“Adrian, what does it matter?” said Simon. “You said yourself, no one wants to be staring at a library all night when they could be out helping people.”
“Because I want to be a part of this,” said Adrian, losing the battle to keep his voice even. “Because I want to find Nightmare.”
Simon drew back, his head tilting to one side, and Adrian noticed for the first time just how unruly his beard had gotten. He glanced at Hugh and saw that his own hair was in need of a cut, his face in need of a shave.
When was the last time either of them had taken a day to just relax? To just be? It was always the Council, the city, the Renegades. Adrian could only imagine the pressure they were under, along with the rest of the Council. The whole world was looking to them for guidance and protection, for security and stability and justice.
He sighed, dragging his fork through the crumbs that had fallen from the scone. “Oscar heard her say something during their fight on the rooftop,” he said, hoping beyond hope that they would never bother to confirm this lie. “She said … one cannot be brave who has no fear.”
He didn’t need to look up at his dads to feel the shift in the air. Hugh inhaled sharply. Simon sank away from the bar, leaning against the back of his stool.
Hugh drummed his fingers against the countertop. “You don’t think Nightmare was connected to her death, do you? From what I can tell, she’s much too young to have been involved.”
“No, I know she is,” said Adrian. “But what if she knows who did it? What if they’re still alive?”
“It could be a coincidence,” said Simon.
“Or it might not,” countered Adrian.
Simon massaged the spot between his thick eyebrows, where he always rubbed when he was deep in thought. “Cards like the one found on Georgia were also found on countless bodies during the Age of Anarchy. Maybe Nightmare read about them somewhere and is … adopting the phrase for herself.”
Adrian looked away. There was a logic to this suggestion, and it probably should have occurred to him as a possibility much sooner. But … somehow, it didn’t feel right. When Nightmare had said it, she hadn’t been using it as a catchphrase, something she hoped would be quoted in the newspapers the next day. Rather, it had seemed so flippant, so unplanned. Words that came naturally, in the way that things heard repetitively over time often did.
“It would be out of character,” said Hugh, “for a villain to stop leaving their mark like that, if they were still around.”