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evenstarfalls · 1 year

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"Because of the Renegades, humanity was becoming weak and pathetic, as she had once been weak and pathetic. Waiting in the darkness of that closet, listening as her sister’s cries were silenced. So hopeful, so trustworthy, believing with all her heart that the Renegades would come." – Nova Artino, Renegades

"When our home was broken into, my mother wanted to hide. Begged my father to use the safe room. But Father insisted they call his superhero friends. He died, pointlessly, stupidly, waiting for heroes to save the day." – Evelyn Deavor, Incredibles 2

"If everyone is special… then no one is." – Evie Artino, Supernova

"And when everyone’s super… no one will be." – Syndrome, The Incredibles

...Just thinking about the Artino Sisters/Incredibles Villains parallels don't mind me.

#screaming screaming screaming #like she had to know what she was doing with maggie #but renegades came out a year before Incredibles 2! coincidence?#ive known about the maggie one but i just realized the nova one #incredibles 2 #the incredibles #renegades #supernova #renegades trilogy #nova artino #maggie white #evie artino #buddy pine #evelyn deavor

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mikodrawnnarratives · 6 months

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I'm kind of obsessed with the idea that

Since Nova and Magpie seem to have had similar childhood's, both being very rough and in proverty, they can sort of have a mutual understanding that they don't really talk about much.

And I think this could lead Nova, despite being the one who is older and will be an adult much sooner before Magpie, to just. Be okay with some things this CHILD might do and think is normal. When somethings may really really NOT be normal.

I heavily interpret both of them as self sufficient since a young age due to all their trauma and upbringings. So if Nova sees Maggie brooding she'd be more likely to go "haha mood" then "Do you want to talk about it? I'm vry worried for u my dearest bby sister"

Not to say she wouldn't ever have moments of the latter. She doesn't exactly WANT her sister to suffer the way she has. I think she would offer a comfort that would be completely optional and quiet. They don't have to talk about it. They both know.

Plus, being rich/well off from the renegades would be a new experience for both of them lol

Y'know once they get over the drama Maggie started when she stole her bracelet. Once they reach a sibling truce. Nova's problems with Maggie being a thief in the renegades I think would be washed away from

This is my sister omygod I'm kinda proud she's fended for herself all this time HELL YEAH steal from the rich

Breaking down her concepts of good and bad after the renegades trilogy. She most definitely will have to do this to make a better solution than just Renegades or Anarchist

Anyway, if Maggie disappears, all Nova would require is an occasional sign/text/call/picture that confirms yes she is alive. Maybe a location. And it's all good. However Adrian might be like "Dude! You've been missing for 2 weeks what the heck!?!?" meanwhile Maggie climbs back into the apartment at 1 am and Nova's like "cool btw wanna grab some food" and Maggie's irregular sleep schedule is never talked about ever.

I don't think Nova would feel any real urgency to "fix" behaviors Maggie learned. She'd show concerns for some things but she also relates so much that, she doesn't want to force Maggie to do anything. Nova wouldn't really be able to recognize "oh yeah we should both get our asses to the therapists office" without Adrian and friends being like "Dudes."

Which contributes to the importance of Maggie getting tutoring for education she's missed out on being downplayed.

At the same time, I can imagine this would be really important to Maggie since it's basically going at her pace and she still gets comfort that Nova definitely would be open to giving. It reassures them both that they have each other. And Maggie doesn't ever have to think she's alone anymore. Nova gets it. And Nova's her sister. SHE is Nova's sister.

kjdslkjdsfjkdfslk;fds;kl idk I like this and it's my headcanon thingie

#long post #sort of #renegades trilogy #magpie #nova artino #maggie white #margaret white #evie artino #renegades #renegades marissa meyer

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koco-coko · 1 year

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Risen / A Renegades fanfic

Chapter 1: A Lonely Grave

previous chapter, next chapter

As the Renegades underwent many, many reforms, such as a decrease in power that the council had, better laws, a reinstatement of the Miranda Rights, and so much more, Riley spun a keyring around her finger. Ever since she got promoted, days have been the same. She used to dream of working so closely with the dead, but it was cruel what they did to her. ‘Her skills would be useful here?’ Ha! She wasn’t even allowed to examine them. For now, she mainly sat at the desk in the small cabin that the Renegades transformed into a quaint office space, waiting days on end for a visitor that she could guide to a grave. Malcom was the one who did all the fun stuff. Tearing them apart, stuffing them, making sure they didn’t look like they were decapitated. Sometimes he let her help, though, by sending her to get an extra pair of clothes or hold the cotton used to stuff the corpses for open-casket funerals. Those were Riley’s favorite part, actually. Learning about all the heroes and villains that passed on. It was just so strange and weird that it piqued her interest just right.

Of course, nobody else saw that. Hell, they thought Malcom and her were the creepy ones, lingering by the door of every funeral with their figures covered in black. Even among the Renegades, they thought she was a weirdo. So what if she was? Did it really deserve being called creepy behind her back?

Lazily, she flipped through the pages of her occult practices. Sometimes, she wished she could go out into the graveyard and summon the spirit of those unjustly killed. Especially Winston. What happened at the arena filled her with so much rage Riley could’ve swarmed the city with an army of the undead. But she didn’t. She would just stay as complacent as she always was.

The door opened. “Hi Malcom,” she mumbled. He was back earlier than usual. He usually came back for the night shift while complaining about how boring patrols were.

“It’s… not Malcom,” a girl’s voice said.

Riley instantly sat up, slamming the leather-bound book closed. She pushed it aside in a rush. “Magpie!” Riley shouted. Then, she covered her mouth. “Maggie. Sorry. It’s Maggie. Maggie, right? Yeah. Maggie,” she repeated the name a few times.

“Uh, yeah. Maggie,” she responded, scuffing her shoes against the old wood floor. She looked nervous, but Riley couldn’t tell about what. She was just happy to have a visitor. (Especially one that wasn’t sobbing their eyes out!) Maggie had a single flower in her hand and shifted anxiously on her feet. She didn’t want to be here at all.

Awkward silence filled the room. Only Riley beating her hands on the receptionist desk interrupted it.

“So, um,” Riley spoke up after a minute or so, “I thought you quit the Renegades. What’ca doin’ here?”

Maggie’s shoulders tensed and she looked away. She tried to shrug it off. “I could ask the same for you. I thought you were in cleanup crew,” She would slowly approach the desk. She had to look up to see Riley sitting on the tall chair. Maggie could hear the clerk’s legs kicking the desk.

“Oh, right! Yeah, I used to be, but I got promoted! Thunderbird came to me and said something about ‘Due to recent events, we need more hands on deck to take care of the graveyard. Would you mind?’ and then I said ‘Absolutely!’ and now I’m here!” she explained. “So, once again, why are you here?”

Maggie ignored most of what she said, much to Riley’s dismay, and simply looked off to the side. Her hands were shoved deep into her pockets. “Yeah, cool, great,” she spoke absentmindedly, “Um, anyways, is it true that Callum Treadwell is buried here?” her brows knit as she said the name, uncomfortably with just mentioning it.

“You mean Wonder Boy?” Riley smiled. With every word, it looked as if Maggie wanted to crawl out of her own skin and escape. Riley was always very happy-go-lucky when it came to mentioning the dead, but even she could feel the girl’s sinking heart. “Uh, yeah, I think we have him. Do you want me to bring you to him?”

—

The Gravekeeper led her down the hill the small, wooden building lived atop. From the top of the hill, it seemed as if the black metal fencing attached to cinder blocks went on for miles over the horizon. It wasn’t a gloomy day, even though that’s what Maggie believed it should’ve been. It should’ve been pouring rain in the dead of night– Her heart told her so. The Gravekeeper didn’t say a word as she twisted a key into the iron gate and pushed opening the creaking doors.

Maggie’s mood seemed to infect Riley, spreading onto her skin and causing her to walk softly on the dirt. Maggie felt her feet sink into the fresh patches of it. How many bodies were really hidden under the grassy path? Stones surrounded them for miles, but none of them were anything special to note. Bouquets and teddy bears littered about most of them, but occasionally there would be a lonely grave with nothing to its name. The pair kept walking. Maggie watched Riley closely, scanning each detail that she couldn’t see before. The collar of her dress, the dress socks and shoes that were already filthy, the belt around her waist with a keyring, book pouch, and lantern dangling off the sides. The most noticeable was the metal, latched bracelet that had a coffin charm attached to it. Even with a fancier outfit, she was still the same Riley– obsessed with the macabre and all its eccentricities.

Her shiny metal bracelet shone in the sun. Maggie couldn’t help that the latch started to jiggle a bit, loosening as she concentrated on it. It’d sell for a good hundred at the pawn shop, at least. Maybe she could trick two hundred out of that sucker. Then Riley stopped. “You said Callum Treadwell, right?” She asked, turning around. She began to fidget with the little bracelet on her wrist. “Um, since the sun is setting, I’m not supposed to leave any visitors in the dark, so, um, I’ll just stand here. If you want me to turn the lamp on, just shout,” The Gravekeeper stepped aside and faced the other way, revealing the full tombstone. Maggie’s eyes widened.

It should’ve been bigger. It was simply a plague in the ground with a flower laying next to it. Where was the statue honoring him? Where were the ceremonies? Where was anything to celebrate him? Did they really just see him as nothing but another dead guy? The floats of villains that he got lumped into were insulting enough, but this? This was disrespectful! This wasn’t right! She had to punch something, steal something, do anything but look at the name carved into a rocky plate.

Callum Treadwell. Alias, Wonder Boy.

A true wonder among us.

Her jaw clenched tightly. How dare they. Nothing about his sacrifice, his life, not even his birthday. Her grip tightened around the petite rose in her hands, snapping the stem.

“Did you know him?” Riley whispered. The setting sky was now a deep shade of purple. How long was she standing there? Why did she feel these strange little wet streaks down her cheeks? “Sorry,” Riley forced a nervous laugh, “Malcom says I shouldn’t talk to visitors about this stuff, but…” She turned to face Maggie. Her eyes were watering as well. “I knew him, too. And I really admire what he tried to do.”

Maggie stared at the Gravekeeper. Someone else knew Callum. Someone else cared. She didn’t know if she felt jealous or thankful. On one hand, she wasn’t alone. On the other, she preferred to be alone. “Yeah. He really was a great guy, huh?” she said, slowly placing down the flower over his name.

Riley wiped her face with her sleeve. She had to try to be professional, even if she really couldn’t. “It’s a shame, really. Tragic they didn’t build some sort of memorial.” Maggie nodded with her. Riley stood by her side, staring down at the name. The dirt was soft beneath them. Twilight was turning into dusk quickly. Riley reached for the lantern on her belt and turned the knob. It was designed like an old-fashioned oil lamp but had the same functionality of an automatic, modern version. “I’m supposed to kick you out now, but I don’t feel like it,” she admitted, holding the light up to her face. Maggie watched pink bloom on her face. It got worse when Riley noticed her staring and they locked eyes. “Malcom won’t be back until nine, so I’m on patrol duty until then. It’d… um, It’d be nice to have some company,” Riley said, fiddling with her bracelet again, “If you want to stay, of course. This place is a bit sad.”

Maggie kept her gaze on Callum’s grave. Magpie always worked alone. Things were better that way. She survived all by herself, and there would never be someone to lean on. She learned that solitude really was the best for her. Even so…

“Sure. I got nothing better to do.”

Besides, maybe Maggie could get some information out of her. That helmet had to be somewhere. Even better, Ace could be buried here, too.

#the renegades trilogy #the renagades #evie artino #maggie white #nova artino #adrian everhart #callum #winston pratt #ocs #fanfic #writing #ao3 fanfic

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carolinemillerbooks · 8 months

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New Post has been published on Books by Caroline Miller

New Post has been published on https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/while-i-was-sleeping/

While I Was Sleeping

A recent article on scams in Writer Beware has prompted me to write the following disclaimer. None of my blogs are written with assistance from Artificial Intelligence (AI). Google helps me with research and an editing program checks my content for technical errors. Everything else is outpouring from a woman with a B. A. in philosophy. In my world, using AI to think for me is like hoping to get fit by watching a Jane Fond exercise tape from my armchair. The brain is like a muscle. Use it or lose it. Besides, taking a bow for an algorithm–a formulation insentient like a rock–is fraud. Those of us who write know the process involves one part imagination and one part discovery. If we’re lucky, an idea ignites a second and then a third and possibly more until, ballooning from the unconscious, these thoughts dazzle us with surprise. At such times, we are like children at the beach who find a seaweed strand sparkling in the sunlight and are so enamored by its beauty that we run breathlessly to a stranger to share our wonder. Given that joy…that elation, readers can understand my distress to learn that for several months, subscribers to my blog failed to receive any of them. Google was to blame, and I’m grateful to those who sent up a flare. Without their determination and loyalty, my essays were like notes jammed into a bottle and set adrift in the ether without a destination. A few strangers found them, which is lucky, because my scribblings aren’t meant to be entertaining but to serve as mental floss for the mind. As such, those who welcome me into their lives are as precious as drops of blood in that their companionship nourishes me. Because it has taken time to discover and fix the technical problem, I have reposted recent ruminations for your approval. https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/in-search-of-meaning/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/learning-from-the-apes/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/a-fly-buzzed-when/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/the-god-delimma/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/the-time-travelers/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/art-in-the-time-of-chaos/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/everyone-has-a-story-to-tell-2/ https://www.booksbycarolinemiller.com/musings/i-die-you-die-they-die/ Now that my audience is restored, I leave them with a reminder. My memoir, Getting Lost to Find Home, publishes on November 1. The early reviews continue to be favorable. I share another below. Maggi White, journalist and founding editor of the Downtowner, Portland, Oregon Caroline Miller’s memoir Getting Lost to Find Home is a finely crafted story of love lost, renewal, and wisdom gained

#Artificial Intelligence in writing #Downtowner-Portland-Oregon #Getting Lost to Find Home #lost blogs restored #Maggie White #memoir #the importance of blog readers #Writer Beware #writing a blog

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elishanelsonfanacct · 1 year

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i love you / i fear you / i need you

mary renault, the national, white oleander, maggie nelson, heathers: the musical, margaret atwood, nikita kadan, jenny holzer, margaret atwood, ida aplebroog, simone weil (tr. arthur wills), richard siken, unknown, unknown, angela carter, the sopranos, mary oliver

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sudaul · 5 months

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#white #instagram #maggie rawlins

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mikodrawnnarratives · 7 months

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Am I upset/displeased with Supernova's ending?

Yes, yes I am.

Will I eat every single nugget of Magpie lore and secret sister identity canon acknowledgement and reunion and hurt/comfort for Maggie and Nova if Marissa meyer writes it and drops it on my platter?

Yes.

#renegades trilogy #renegades marissa meyer #supernova marissa meyer #nova artino #evie artino #maggie white #I won't be happy with the route of giving Maggie a romance BUT I'd EAT UP if Marissa Meyer made an additional book for the sisters T___T #Give maggie a hug pls #she may be feral but I love her for it #giv her #her feral sister #pls #supernova spoilers

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signed-sapphire · 1 month

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Um. Can I. @annymation @uva124 @emillyverse

How hard I had to fight to not make Aster a twink was. So hard.

Idk experimenting with canvas sizes

@gracebethartacc has RWTS!Aster with star-shaped pupils and Cielo has glowing golden pupils, so I decided Imma draw KOW!Aster with stars IN their pupil.

The firefly one??? Is okay??? It doesn’t really look lika Aled’s art but idfc (I do, I really do but I gotta go to sleep)

Boots are a bit stiff but what can you do. I wanted to get some fanart out there so I can practice drawing the boy a little more later

#yeah uh #maybe I’ll draw a little colored doodle later #aster with earrings >>>>>#my headcanon is that he also has heels #so does maggie #the boys all have heeled boots whereas amaya and asha have flat soles #anyways ALED I LOVE ASTER’S DESIGN WTF #tried to make him more sketchy here? my style is already sketch-based though soooo #also the firefly doodle. aster looks white. I’m sorry baby I’ll try to color you later #wait anny does aster have a paper cutout around him like hobie brown or just a doodle like the disney short film #okkkkkk go to bed now saph #kingdom of wishes #kingdom of wishes au #aster #starboy #disney wish #tags aren’t working I’m not typing all the tags out #saph doodles

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koco-coko · 1 year

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Risen / a Renegades fanfic

Takes place after Supernova, heavy spoilers ahead!

---

There will always be villains, and this time around, they both want vengeance.

Margaret White wants three things. Control, a helmet, and a long-gone sister. Riley Darkholme wants three things. Fame, respect, and a real friend. Maggie vowed to make sure that the world was right, to take over and make sure 'Power Classism' would never come to fruition. She vowed to be the best (worst?) supervillain Gatlon has never seen. Riley vowed to prove that she was important, and not just some freak into horror movies and the occult. She vowed to be known, seen, and heard by the whole world.

They both want vengeance, and they know they're going to need help with it. A bit of manipulation here, a hint of raising the dead there... What could go wrong?

------

Prologue:

This was the worst idea she'd ever have. Really, why was she even here? Did she really think this would work? I mean, she could control their bodies, sure, but bring them back from the dead? That was unheard of! Mostly because she hadn’t tried it, but still. Perhaps it would work. Remember the sigils, Riley told herself, clutching ink tight in her hand. Life, Strength, Vengeance, and Healing. She repeated those nonstop, holding the ink tighter. That little necklace could block out Agent N, and Sketch was able to tattoo himself powers. Bringing back someone from the dead with a complete will and consciousness didn’t seem impossible. She just had to get it right. First, she would try a pentagram around the coffin, if that didn’t work, she’d say: “Malcom, I need to inspect her body. The Council asked me to make sure it was still in good condition.” She had already studied the Everhart family’s handwriting, so forging wouldn’t be too difficult.

The Renegade-sanctioned graveyard was a strange place. Not many came to visit, very few people even knew it existed. It was just an expensive field full of nothing but forgotten memories. Names and faces nobody cared for anymore. On one side, there were the mass graves of those faceless people lost in the Age of Anarchy, then the other corner had Renegades who died while in the field. That corner usually got more visitors. Occasionally, a relative would visit the corner full of Anarchists. They weren’t allowed many graces, mostly just tossed into holes of dirt made with no caution. Riley tried to treat them better, especially the newest ones. Winston was already buried, but Riley still needed to find a coffin fit for Honey Harper. Something not beautiful, but more graceful than just a slot in the ground and a toss in it.

She arrived at the tombstone. Surprisingly, it wasn’t as large and grand as people would think. No statue, no big decorated headstone. Just a few flowers laid on top of a flat plaque. It blended in perfectly with all the other Renegade tombs, though her’s had a few more flowers around it. How many had Adrian drawn for her? It was so quiet so evil-doers wouldn’t target and defile it. Someone like her.

This was the worst idea she’d ever had. If she really brought her back to life, what would people think? Would Adrian be elated? What would the council say? Was her power too much, something that she never should use? An affront to all that is good and decent, as Mary Shelly would say?

She read the name and took a deep breath, holding the book of occult practices and the ink.

For a better future, She told herself, For Maggie. For everyone . She slapped a slip of paper with a carefully drawn pentagram against the name. And for getting that damn helmet.

Georgia Rawles. Alias, Lady Indomitable.

Courageous hero and loving mother.

“One cannot be brave who has no fear.”

—

3 years before the Supernova…

“Uh, hi! I’m Riley,” She said, picking at the hems of the messy, torn dress. She had tried finding something pretty to wear, but nothing she had was in great condition. It just came with constantly being around the dead.

The girl with a bob cut looked her up and down, cracking a smile. Riley couldn’t tell if they were mocking her or not. At first, the girl didn’t respond. Riley’s stare was unwavering. It probably freaked her out enough to make her talk. “You’re the new cleanup kid?” Then she laughed. Riley stepped back. “They should probably fix you up first. Were you mauled by a damn bear or something?”

Riley stared at the holes on her socks. “Well, I don’t really have a good home, if you get what I mean.”

The girl raised a brow, “Oh.” Things were silent from there. She just seemed plain annoyed with her already. Did she do something wrong? She didn’t really know the manners of being a Renegade, so maybe. Was she even one of them? It was still something that the stingy older heroes were debating as they spoke. Riley sat on the bench next to her. The girl scooted the opposite way.

“So, um, you’re Magpie, right?” Riley asked.

“Don’t call me that. That name’s stupid,” Magpie spat back, crossing her arms.

Riley nodded and smiled. “Maggie, then? That’s cool. I like that name. Way cooler than Magpie.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

Tough crowd, huh? Riley kneaded the thin fabrics of her dress between her fingers. Was she like this was everyone, or was Riley just especially annoying? It was a bit hard to tell why she was so terse. “Is it true you can sense how much money things are worth?”

Maggie didn’t give her the luxury of responding, instead lending a simple hum. Sweet Rot, she really didn't want to be here anymore. Maybe she didn't need the cuff of her pants fixed, actually. Maggie scanned the hallway, planning her escape plan.

Before she could take an eye off the door, Riley’s eyes lit up. “That’s cool! How much does this thing cost?” she instantly dug into her purse, only to pull out an old book with a leather bound cover. Several symbols were etched into the corners, but most noticeable was the goat's skull in the center.

Maggie’s nose scrunched in disgust, “What the hell even is that thing?”

“It’s a book, silly!” Riley giggled. She opened the book to show to her new ‘friend,’ even if Maggie was leaning the other way. Riley had to show her now! As soon as they came out with her cleanup outfit, Magpie would certainly run the other way. “It’s all about the occult and supernatural things and stuff! It’s so neat, isn’t it?” she shoved the open pages into Maggie’s face. Her eyes skimmed over the picture of an old drawing of a demon-like figure. It looked a bit like Gargoyle, actually.

For a reason unknown to Riley, it seemed the gruesome images actually made the black haired girl’s scowl fade ever so slightly. “Freaky,” she smirked nervously, taking the book into her hands and flipping through the pages. “Why do you even have this?”

“It was my dad’s.”

“ M’kay. Why’d he have it?”

Riley shrugged. “It might be how I got my powers. I can’t remember if he gave it to me before or after they developed.” the girl raised her arms into the air, her fingers curled into a ‘scary position.’ “Sometimes I wonder if they come from the book and I really have ghost powers!”

Maggie’s eyes widened. Something about those words struck her. It was quiet as Riley’s arms hung awkwardly in the air. They soon lowered in embarrassment as Maggie’s mind ran. “Huh. What are your powers, anyway?” Riley twirled one of her tight coils around her fingers. The rest of her hair was up in two buns. Maggie had to wonder if those were forever stuck in that position from all the grime caught between each curl. “It’s a bit weird,” Riley said with a nervous grin.

Maggie scoffed, “I doubt I’ll mind.”

“Fine then, but you can’t tell anyone!” Riley leaned in close to the girl, her grin growing childishly wide. “I can sense dead people.”

Maggie blinked. Then she looked her up and down again. “Like, corpses and stuff?”

Riley nodded, her smile reaching her ears. “Yep! Like, um, is there an old lady on the…” Riley closed her eyes. The hairs on her arm and back of her neck stood up like a honing device. “I think the sixth floor?” Maggie, albeit hesitantly, nodded. Riley opened her eyes, “Let’s just say someone should probably go check on her. I’m pretty certain she’s not taking a nap on her lunch break.”

“Damn,” Maggie said, “Well, it was Lauren’s time. She was just some cranky hag anyway.”

Riley gasped and tore the book from Maggie’s hands. “Don’t speak ill of the dead! She was probably a great old lady!”

Before the black haired girl could retort, a young and tall woman poked her head from the door they sat next to. “Riley Darkholme?” she called, staring at the clipboard to be certain he said the name right. It wasn’t exactly common.

“That’s me!” Riley went straight back to her chipper attitude and skipped off the bench. “See ya later, Magpie!” she quickly covered her mouth, “Maggie! Sorry. Maggie, Maggie…” she repeated the name as the man led her through the door to be fitted for her shiny new uniform. Just like she thought, Maggie left as soon as she was free. Hopefully she'll come back. Riley didn’t want to miss out on another friend. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t happen to have all too many.

So, Riley stood in a T as the lady measured her arms and legs and tried to fit her perfectly. The woman bit her tongue as she rolled up the cuff of her pants, completely focused on her work. Riley was too, her eyes closed as she hummed a small tune. Then they burst open, “Woah! The Renegade’s have a morgue? ” she asked, leaning down to the woman. “That’s so neat. I wanna work there!”

The seamstress jumped a bit, only to chuckle awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. I guess we do? Good to know,” the woman said, before returning to the janitorial team jumpsuit. She grumbled to herself as she stuck one of the bobby pins from her auburn hair into the pant leg, “They really need to get a better selection of child uniforms. All-around unisex is not cutting it these days, I swear…”

“What’s your name?” Riley asked, peering down.

“Isa, but if you're one of the annoying ones you’d call me Ruler Girl.” She said. Isa left and headed towards a table full of extra buttons, thread, and scissors. “I can see exact measurements of just about everything,” She continued, a bit more prideful than she should’ve been.

Riley tilted her head like a dog. “Really? Sooo , how much does the mirror right there measure?”

Isa barely glanced at it. She knew the entire room like the back of her own hand. “22 centimeters in width and 55 centimeters in length.”

“Weird. That’s a tiny mirror.”

“It’s just for doing my makeup in the morning, really.”

Riley was then ordered to climb out of the brown jumpsuit with Renegade branding all over and sit on a tiny chair nearby. “This shouldn’t take long,” Isa said as she began to cut and sew at her desk. She grumbled minor complaints each time she poked her thumb with the pins and needles, but otherwise left Riley to her own thoughts.

To be a Renegade… It was an honor! Honestly, she didn’t think they’d find her powers useful (or safe). In part because she lied about their extent. Yes, she could sense the locations of the deceased, but there was more to it. She could control them, like the Puppeteer did to his victims. Without the strings, too! It was so cool to watch in action! All she needed to do was slap a few talismans and sigil slips onto their body, and boom! Real-life zombies!

Of course, this would have her thrown in Cragmoor the second anyone found out, but it was pretty handy on its own few occasions. Especially when she found roadkill and there were some bandits nearby. A zombie deer can scare the crap out of more people than one would think. So, instead, she could sense them.

“Hey, girlie? One question,” Isa piped up as she wrapped a band-aid around a newly pricked finger, “Why’d you want to work at the morgue? You know what that place is, right?”

Riley was smiling wide. “Yep! I just think dead stuff is cool. Did I show you my book? It’s got the instructions to summoning circles and how to sacrifice people to whatever demonic entity you want and-”

“Sweet Rot, I think they’re just letting anyone into the Renegades nowadays,” Isa said. From then on, she chose to keep her mouth shut.

Riley sighed. It happened every time. Every single time she got excited or asked about her interests, it scared people off. Yet, she still didn’t know how to hide it. It was just so interesting! Everyone should know about it! From the strangers on the street to Captain Chromium himself!

Of course, that would never happen, but… For the world to know her name? To respect her and the power she had over the undead? It was a fantasy she’s had for quite some time.

—

3 years after the Supernova…

Maggie groaned. It had to be here, somewhere! At the very least there should be a paper trail! But no, there was no sign of it. Without that damn helmet, she wouldn’t be able to get anything done. Metal manipulation was cool, sure, but it wasn’t strong enough to lift a building, now was it? She needed to amplify it, otherwise she’d be nothing more than a petty thief.

So, she dug into a pile of bones with that same scowl of disgust. The cathedral was never in great condition since the Battle of Gatlon, but it was in more disrepair than even the movies would want to show. The notorious belltower where it all went down was completely demolished, nothing but a shell of brick and mortar. Piles of bones littered the entire place, heaps on heaps of skulls and half-finished skeletons. It stank of death and despair. Of broken dreams and promises of the legendary Nightmare. Ugh, Nightmare. Or was it Insomnia? She couldn’t tell anymore. Not like she got to have a heart-to-heart with the googly-eyed lovey-dovey ‘hero.’

Each and every pile revealed nothing. Not even a hint as to where that helmet landed! What a waste. If only it were made of metal, but no. It just had to be special and needed. Not even a trace.

Then, she heard footsteps. Soft, light, cute… Not cute in the way of Max Everhart, but gleeful. Max was cute in a sort of funny way, like ‘Hey! This kid saved the world! Weird, right?’ But these steps were skips and a heavier pair was following close behind. Maggie quickly dove behind a pile of bones combined with a mound of dirt. Of course it had to be now. What would she say? Did one of those new vigilantes see her being suspicious? Everyone saw themself as a ‘hero’ now. What a load of bull. Soon enough, everything would go back to normal and Maggie would emerge victorious, the only one who prepared such destruction and terror. Well, either that, or she’d finally find that helmet and take over before that would happen. Or maybe just destroy. She was still debating if she wanted the stress of being all-powerful and in control or not.

“Oh, I thought I heard something,” the intruder said, tapping her chin and scanning the area. Oh, she knew that face, but a name didn’t appear. She’d only seen her occasionally, especially during the era of Nightmare’s attacks. From the glimpses she could catch, she saw that girl with two fluffy buns on her head waving her hand as she dragged a corpse in her other. “Well, guess it’s just me and the dead. Hi, old friends!” she shouted. The ragged dress she wore from their first meeting was gone, replaced with a nice, velvety black dress with a Renegade broch over her heart. Still, it had been tarnished with dirt and other nebulous stains. Her hair was cleaner than it used to be, at least. You could tell curls and coils from the muck and junk of a few years ago. The urge to take this broch, too, was overwhelming. “Hey, Malcolm! You sure we’re gonna find Honey this time?”

Just through a crack in her hiding spot, through a tibia and forearm, Maggie saw a lanky and pale man stride with his hands in his pockets. Unlike the girl, he wore a clean suit and fedora to match. He looked like a lawyer, but something about him just seemed too off to be that. His eyes were thin as he surveyed the area. “I don’t know. It’s your power. I’m surprised you didn’t find her the first time,” Malcolm said, taking his hat off as a sign of (albeit it very little) respect.

"Uh, sorry to disappoint. That's not how it works," Riley stated. She picked up a skull that hid a bit of Maggie's hair. Thank the heavens her black bob blended into the wall. "I sense dead people. Not a single dead person. As you can see," She waved her head around the skull. The jaw feel off and broke onto the floor, "Lotsa' dead people." It seemed like only Maggie was frightened by the display of such rickety bones.

"Hm, I see," Malcom responded, monotonously.

Maggie bit her lip. If she got caught here, she'd be locked up for sure. If they were still doing that. Would they really be a 'fair trial,' as those sheep were spouting? Riley examined the mound of bones Maggie was crouched behind. She froze up. Crap, was this it? Would the weird corpse girl be the one to end her quest for total power? No. Because Maggie wouldn't go down so pathetically.

When Riley sighed and looked to the floor, Maggie took the opportunity to bolt from the dirt hill and into a crevice created by shattered stairs. Only half of the stairwell remained while the rest of the wood existed as collateral on the floor. How was the place still open to the public? The little structure left was ready to cave in on itself. Maggie pulled the strings to her hoodie, the hood tightening around her head. She watched the pair with the eyes of a hawk.

The girl with two fluffy buns and dark skin rubbed a skull loving, sorrow filling her mournful stare. "Isn't it tragic, Malcom?"

"Shouldn't you be looking for Queen Bee?" Malcom's face tightened with disdain.

"I know, I know. It's just…" Riley sighed, her eyes heavy, "It's tragic. All these unknown names, stories, faces… How many future doctors and novelists do you think are just gone now? All the dreams and ideas and families…" Riley's chest felt heavy.

Her superior seemed indifferent. "They're Anarchists, the scum of Gatlon. Plain and simple."

"Don't speak ill of the dead!" Riley snapped, whipping her head to glare at him. Malcolm simply rolled his eyes and went about his business with crossed arms and a hunched position. “No respect whatsoever,” she murmured.

Maggie kept watching them, so cautiously. Thoughts crept in on her. They’re like you, the voices said. No. No they weren’t. As if you and Callum switched places. Her heart sank. Even now, thoughts of him still haunted her. Every little bit of existence was filled with Callum, Callum, Callum. She couldn’t take it. It was because of failing heroes and incompetent villains that he died. It was because of Nightmare. Nova Artino. That was her end goal. Make her fall and the world would be right again. Margaret White would finally get her rightful due. All the money in the world, a rightful throne above it all, and a dead Insomnia at her feet. Callum would finally be avenged.

But she needed that damn helmet.

Next part

#the renegades trilogy #the renagades #nova artino #maggie white #winston pratt #evie artino #callum #marissa meyer #fanfic #writing #ocs

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