![]() On it was a miniature-scale version of the Gatlon skyline and standing among the buildings were actors wearing over-stylized costumes meant to resemble some of the most well-known members of Ace’s gang. Over the heads of the spectators, Nova caught glimpses of an elaborate parade float. The booing of the crowd started up again, more enthusiastic than before. Nova glanced across the street, to the second-level window of an office building, where she could barely see Ingrid-or the Detonator, as the public knew her-peering out through the blinds. “The Council hasn’t left the warehouse yet,” said Phobia. “Just need to know which rooftop you want me on.” “Roger,” Nova said, careful to move her lips as little as possible, though she doubted anyone in the crowd was paying attention to her. “And so it begins,” came Ingrid’s voice, wry and unamused. The tiny transmitter crackled inside her ear. Nova hadn’t known him personally, but she still felt a spark of resentment to see the balloon’s treatment of him-the bloated head and grotesquely disfigured face. It was a cartoon-like replica of the Atomic Brain, who had been one of Ace’s closest allies before the Renegades had killed him nearly fifteen years ago. Nova looked up to see an enormous balloon, spanning nearly the width of the street as it floated between the high-rises. That day officially marked the end of the Age of Anarchy, and the start of the Council’s rule. Destroyed in the explosion that leveled half of the cathedral he had made his home. Ace’s revolutionaries were defeated and the few villains who didn’t perish that day either crawled away into hiding or left the city entirely.Īce Anarchy was dead. Today was the ninth anniversary of the Battle for Gatlon, when the Renegades had taken on the Anarchists and the other villain gangs in a bloody fight that had ended with dozens of deaths on both sides. It was tradition for the villain floats to go first, to really get the crowd riled up, and to remind everyone what it was they were celebrating. The cheering turned suddenly to loud, exuberant boos, which could only mean one thing. Already it felt like she’d been standing there for an eternity. Fingers drumming an impatient rhythm against her elbow. She stood at the back of the crowd, unable to see much of the actual parade, which was fine by her. Nova shook her head, mildly disappointed in humanity. Cannons blasted overhead, dousing the crowd with confetti. The music grew louder, bearing down on them now. Trumpets and drums and the steady thumping of hundreds of synchronized musicians moved through the street. If Nova had had an appetite to start with, she was sure she would have lost it by now.Ī great cheer rose up through the crowd and the noise of a marching band broke through the din. ![]() Even the food trucks were celebrating the day’s theme, with Captain Chromium funnel cakes and Tsunami fish’n’chips baskets and one sign advertising DREAD WARDEN’S FAVORITE POPCORN CHICKEN-GET SOME NOW BEFORE IT DISAPPEARS! The street vendors weren’t any better, hawking everything from cheesy light-up wands to tiny plush versions of the famous Renegade quintet. Oh, how Nova despised the Renegade Parade. Gender-swapping was a big thing this year, too, with countless women having shown up in risqué versions of the Dread Warden’s signature bodysuit, and plenty of men having strapped cheap replicas of Thunderbird’s black-feathered wings to their backs. Grown men had squeezed themselves into blue leggings and painted shoulder pads to look like the Captain’s armor, and now sat clinking glasses together inside the roped-off beer gardens that dotted the main street. Kids ran amok in orange capes, screeching and waving Blacklight-branded sparklers over their heads, or shooting one another with Tsunami-themed squirt guns. THE STREETS OF DOWNTOWN GATLON were overflowing with fake superheroes. ![]()
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