they’d gotten rid of the villain floats, which were now seen as disrespectful and uncouth. She wasn’t sure who, exactly, they were supposed to be respecting now. The Anarchists? The villain gangs? Ace Anarchy himself?
Please.
Instead, the villain floats had been replaced with memorials for the warriors who had been lost. Blacklight. Queen Bee. Even that jerk, the Puppeteer, which was the height of irony, given that he’d attacked this same parade just one year before.
There was even a float with a statue dedicated to Callum Treadwell.
Her heart did jolt at the sight of it, but she’d never tell anyone that. Sweet marvels, Callum may have been a ridiculous nerd, but he deserved better than being lumped in with these goons.
She watched from the jostling crowd, arms crossed, scowling at each float that passed. What were they supposed to be celebrating now? The idea that they’d all gone from helpless civilians to courageous superheroes? Laughable. So what was it? The second fall of Ace Anarchy? The great equalization?
A return to mediocrity?
No one else seemed to have figured it out yet, but she knew they would soon enough. The facts were inescapable.
If everyone is special … then no one is.
A float rounded the corner, bringing with it a chorus of eager shrieks.
The Council, naturally, every bit the political figureheads they’d ever been. Without Blacklight, the float was lacking a certain flair—no more strobe lights and fireworks and sparklers. Otherwise, not much had changed.
Despite having their own superpowers, people still tried to emulate the Council. Scanning the crowd, she picked out at least a dozen Captain Chromium costumes, along with branded light-up wands and plastic masks. She also saw a large banner hung from a nearby storefront.
BOLD. VALIANT. JUST. DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES TO BE A HERO?
YES, YOU DO!
But it was a lie. For starters, not all powers were created equal, and she knew the hierarchy would start sorting itself out soon enough, once all this chumminess over “equality” wore off. And not everyone was cut out to be heroic, even if they could boil water with their breath or hypnotize puppies with their magic kazoo or whatever. They weren’t all empowered, no matter how much they wanted it to be true.
Empowered. Gross. She wanted to vomit every time she heard that word.
The crowd broke into another round of cheers. A parade float came into view displaying a miniature model of Gatlon City, crafted entirely of glass, just like the one she remembered at headquarters. It was pretty, sparkling in the bright afternoon light. It took her a minute to notice the boy in the center of the city. He seemed a lot older than the last time she’d seen him.
Max Everhart.
The haunting recluse she’d so often seen watching the Renegades from behind his quarantine walls. He was a legend now. If anyone was a hero, it was him, after he single-handedly rebuilt Gatlon City when Ace Anarchy had tried to tear it apart.
The funny thing was, Max Everhart was quite possibly the only human being on the planet who didn’t actually have any superpowers. Not anymore.
He could have had them all, but instead, he chose to give them up.
To give them away.
She sort of admired him for it. She sometimes wondered whether he had regrets. She sometimes dreamed of having chance encounters with Max Everhart where she could ask him what it had been like to have that much power, even if just for a moment.
Actually, she thought a lot about Max Everhart these days. At some point in the past year it had occurred to her that he was actually kind of cute, and she wondered if he had always been cute and she’d just never noticed it before because, well, no one really noticed Max Everhart before.
But people noticed him now, and she couldn’t help the fact that she had, too.
She’d never tell anyone that, either.
Next came a float that was painted all in black, with light shining through a million pinprick holes, reminiscent of the night sky. A giant five-pointed star stood in the center of the float. On one arm of the star stood Monarch, alongside a shorter girl with red hair that hung to her hips in a long, narrow braid both of them waving exuberantly to the crowd. On the opposite side of the star were Smokescreen and Red Assassin. Grinning his dopey-eyed grin, Smokescreen pointed a finger at the sky and sent off a stream of fluffy white clouds that folded in on