Renegades Stories

Chapter 9: Adrian

Adrian woke up late in the night, reaching over to his nightstand for a glass of water. Nothing was there. Cursing under his breath, he fumbled around for his glasses.

Standing up, he opened his door and made his way to the kitchen. He was about to turn on the lights when he remembered Nova. She probably wouldn't appreciate it if he woke her up.

Adrian hated how drawn he felt towards her. It was as if the universe was pulling him towards her. She was like a tractor beam, and he barely escaped each time.

He glanced over to the couch. Nova was turning over in her sleep, muttering. Another nightmare?

Adrian should probably wake her. If it was a nightmare, she wouldn't want to experience it any longer. He crept over to her, and shook her shoulders.

Nova shot up, breathing hard, her hand over her heart. Even in the dim light, he could see the tears in the corner of her eyes.

"Hey, calm down, it was just a nightmare," Adrian said, soothingly. "It's not real."

She looked at him in disbelief. "That's the thing. It is real. Or, it was real."

He bit his lip. Right. Earlier she'd had a nightmare about her interrogation.

Sighing, he decided to try a tactic his mom had used whenever he had nightmares as a child. "What was it about?"

Nova looked at her lap, still breathing hard. "When I was neutralized."

"Do you have nightmares a lot?"

"Everytime I fall asleep."

The next fifteen minutes consisted of Adrian getting a glass of water for himself and for Nova. He turned on the TV and handed the remote to her, telling her she could watch something instead of going back to bed.

Then, he returned to his room and closed the door.

He sat on his bed, his head in his hands. The neutralization was almost ten years ago. The scientists at HQ had developed a special serum that, when injected, removed any prodigies' powers. During the revealing of 'Agent N,' as it was called, to the public, all the prisoners at Cragmoor had been neutralized, Nova included.

Winston Pratt, or 'the Puppeteer,' had said it was a relief. But it seemed to have brought Nova only pain, memories of things she wanted to forget.

It was too late now, though. Maybe the therapist she would be working with would prescribe her something to help, or help her sort through it.

Why am I so concerned? Adrian wondered. My only job in this is to give her shelter and food.

His life had been fine until this goddamn former Anarchist had been thrown into it.