CLAIRE

I couldn't sleep that night. I had only really skimmed the article when I was hanging out with Stephanie, but I wondered if there was more to Psyche's story than her active years and superpowers. Like a reason that Dad somehow ended up with her suit and never told us.

And there was a question that troubled me more than I'd've liked to admit.

What would Mom have done if she did have superpowers?

It seemed almost like a betrayal of everything Mom and Dad believed in and had raised me with to not become a superhero, if given the chance.

Even if there was the chance I lost myself, even if I could die in the process, wouldn't it be worth it to stop people like Tenebrous, Heretic, and Dr. Electra?

I'd never really been the selfless type— but what teenager is? I'm not a martyr for the house or anything. But the more I thought about it, the more I was feeling guilty.

Didn't I owe it to my city to do what I could to stop evil, if I possibly held that power in my hands?

The problem was, I didn't know what exactly I could and couldn't do.

Still, curiosity tugged at me and I knew I had to find out more about Psyche.

I climbed out of bed and booted up my laptop, pulling up the page that Stephanie had back when she was here.

From there, I was able to weave together a narrative, as any good reporter could— even a reporter for a high school paper like the Princess North.

Psyche had first appeared in 1998 in the late spring, when most of the colleges had let out, and she joined up pretty quickly with other heroes in the League of Heroes— creating her own smaller squad with them. Kind of like how the Sentinels worked now.

The squad consisted of six different heroes— Psyche was one of them, of course. There was Nimbus, a weather-controlling hero with a dorky grin. Then there was Crucible, who could break anything he touched, and World Jumper, a woman who could create portals. There was Argent, a woman who could control metal and magnets. The final member was another male hero, naturally— this one was their leader by the looks of things: Timeline, who was a speedster.

They were sighted together frequently— Psyche and Nimbus the most often. But then there was one villain that appeared, around 1997 or so– Dark Titan or something really stupid like that.

He was one of the techie villains that were more prominent before the City Hall fires, based off of the plots foiled in the sightings chart.

But then there was one big battle, in 2000 where they foiled Dark Titan for good, dismantling whatever big bad doomsday machine he had set up— but a bunch of heroes and villains died in the process.

After that, there had been a few appearances of Psyche since then, before she fell off of the radar completely in 2001.

When I finished the page, I was still admittedly confused as to how Dad ended up with her suit.

Stephanie's probably got it right. Just let it go.

I leaned back in my computer chair. I just felt so restless, like I couldn't get back to sleep.

This is such a bad idea, I thought to myself as I put on my socks and headed downstairs to my coat and warm winter boots. I'd at least keep my phone in the pocket of my sweatpants for good measure this time.

I knew I'd be okay if I went out for a walk in the middle of the night, as long as I stayed in the Riverview development. Some parts of New Kingsbury were prone to crime of the supervillain and mundane kinds, but the suburbs were pretty safe, as far as it went.

I turned on my playlist of favorite Fleetwood Mac songs as I headed down the lamp lit street. Stevie Nicks' serenades repelled all shadows. I felt strangely energetic as I continued to walk around in the cold.

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It was the feeling of an adventure, even though I was by myself. The world was my secret, and I had it all to myself.

That is, until I saw a flash of light in my peripheral vision.

I whirled around to see none other than Renegade standing in the middle of the road. I stopped my playlist, sizing him up.

This oughta be good.

He folded his arms over his chest, staring me down with dark eyes before facepalming, even with the mask on. He let out a long, exasperated sigh.

"I swear, you're gonna kill me, Claire," he muttered. "You'll be the death of me."

"I meant what I said earlier." I wouldn't be afraid of him— not in the dark, all alone, when no one would see me use what I had, to stand up for myself. "I never asked you to save me."

"You did last night." He smirked.

"So maybe I did then," I reluctantly agreed. "But that doesn't mean I want you stalking me around like some creep, telling me what I can and can't do."

"You really shouldn't be out here by yourself," he reminded me.

"Well, you're here." I crossed my arms over my own chest. "I just needed a walk— to think."

"In the middle of the night?" I might not have been able to see Renegade's eyebrows, but I was sure he was arching them, or raising them, or whatever.

"I couldn't sleep," I admitted. "So I'm trying to burn some energy off. Shouldn't you be off stopping crimes, or starting them?"

"Right now my priority is making sure the people I'm supposed to protect aren't doing anything stupid to endanger themselves." He gave me a pointed look.

I let out a bitter laugh, even to my own surprise. "It's New Kingsbury! That could be literally anything! Even going home from school can end up you being threatened and held hostage!"

"I know you're not asleep, but you don't have to wake up the entire neighborhood," he hissed.

Okay, you have a point there.

I glanced around— there weren't any lights on yet.

"But you do have a point," he admitted. "But even you have to know that it's never a good idea to go out by yourself at night."

"Then walk with me." I bit my lip, already regretting my choice there.

But it wasn't the same as just two nights before— a part of me trusted him to some extent. At least, I didn't expect him to try holding me hostage again. Besides, he was right that he had saved me when I'd called for help.

"I'd be happy to." He smirked again.

I just rolled my eyes and started off to where the street corner turned. He had to work a little to keep up.

"Care to say what kept you up?"

I glanced at him— he still had that stupid smirk on his face, still was cocky as all hell, but there was some sincerity. You could see it in his eyes.

And as much as I hated to admit it, I just wanted to confide in someone about how my whole world had changed on that Thursday two days ago.

"When did you know?" I asked.

He frowned— looking almost panicked. "What?"

"About your powers," I clarified. "When did you know you had them?"

"Five years ago." He wasn't looking at me— he was sort of looking ahead, but not really focusing on it. "I had no idea that I had these powers. Not until— that isn't important."

"Why did you decide to be a hero?" I couldn't help but let the words come tumbling out of my lips.

He blinked, returning to the present. He seemed almost baffled by the question entirely. "Because it was the right thing to do. There's no other answer."

That was what I'd been thinking all along— but it was strange to hear the words confirmed all the same.

"Not for you, though," he added quickly. "You should keep your head down, Claire. It's not worth it."

"But you said it yourself," I pointed out. "If it's right— it's what you have to do, isn't it?"

Renegade just smiled sadly and shook his head. "I wish it were that simple again. I'm in too deep now to turn back. But if I'd known— well, there's many things I wish I'd known. Let me give you a word of advice, Claire. Not everything you've heard about me is true. Not even close."

I wondered what exactly he was referring to— but I had other bones to pick with him.

"You called me Claire."

"That's your name, isn't it?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, but that's not the point. I never told you that it was my name, before you held me hostage—"

"Maybe I guessed— it is a fairly common name," Renegade pointed out.

I shook my head— I would not be dissuaded so easily.

"You knew it was my name." I stopped, looking him directly in the eye. "You know me, beneath the mask."

"Okay, late night introspection walk is over," Renegade declared. "You should get home, the ice is clearly getting to your brain."

"You might deny it, but I know I've just uncovered a piece of the truth," I said. "If you've met me, then. . ."

"Claire, stop, please." There was enough sincerity, enough humility in his voice to make me feel bad. "I know you think I'm the bad guy, and that you'd do New Kingsbury a big favor for unmasking me. But please, don't."

He was begging me, or as close as I guessed his ego would let me.

And I just stood there with icy stoic features, silent as he cracked.

"I don't want anyone to get hurt by finding out the truth," he said. "I don't want my family to go through what a lot of heroes' and villains' families do. Please."

I thought of my own secret, of how I wanted— no, needed— to stay under the wraps.

But a reporter's curiosity is hard to deny.

Still, I felt like a crap person for even considering saying no. This was something I just couldn't continue digging into for something so petty.

"I won't keep digging," I promised.

I suddenly felt a lot less energetic. I suddenly felt weary, tired of this world.

"I think I'm ready to go back."

We didn't speak a word the whole way back. The whole exchange almost ended with awkward silence.

That was, until I opened the door and Renegade opened his portal.

Before he stepped through, he whispered two words dripping with gratitude.

"Thank you."