After Archenemies 3/?

In honor of not getting on Tumblr tomorrow, here is part 3 of whatever this is to anyone who liked the first two parts. In all honesty idk what this part is, and it might be a little soon for what follows, but I wasn't planning on making this fic long anyways so...yeah. Here is part 1 and here is part 2 if you care. feel free to check out my other works also! enjoy! warning: I dont really edit these that much, so please be kind if you see errors! this is also shorter than what I usually write, just fyi.

Edit: heck i forgot to post the links to the previous parts...ill do it later lmao

Nova’s communicator band had gone off three times in the past hour. She had taken it off and set it on her mattress after it first went off. She didn't need the distraction, especially if that distraction was Adrian Everhart.

“Why are you still staring at that thing?” Nova looked up to see Honey in the doorway of their shared room, leaning against the cracked door frame. She was examining her polished nails. “If you look at it any longer, the filthy Renegade will be able to turn back to normal.”

Nova pushed back the chair she was sitting on in front of Honey’s vanity where Danna’s butterfly was currently trapped. It remained immobile for the most part. When Nova would start to worry if it had died, it would crawl around its little prison. “Just thinking.” About her uncle. About how they would be able to free him from the Renegades. About Nightmare. About a certain Renegade boy.

She closed her eyes, feeling a headache forming at the base of her neck.

“Well, you can think and answer your little Renegade buddies.” Honey gestured towards the communicator band resting on top of a jewelry box. “That ringing is driving me nuts. I can hear it all the way downstairs.”

Nova rolled her eyes, but picked up the band nonetheless. “It’s only gone off three times, Honey. Don’t be so dramatic.”

“Me? Not dramatic?” Honey laughed, the sound like bells. “In your dreams, sweet girl.” She strutted into the room, reached over Nova, grabbed a magazine that was open on her vanity, and sauntered back out. Her perfume lingered, stronger than ever. Nova waved her hand in front of her face. Vintage fumes were the last thing she needed for her aching head.

Her communicator band went off again, and she heard Honey yelling from the first floor to shut it off before she did. Nova looked down at the device, scrolling through her notifications. The first one, nearly an hour ago, was from Adrian.

This is last minute, but we’re meeting in the HQ library in about 30 minutes, Let me know when you get here. It’s about Nightmare.

Nova froze. That couldn’t be good. This was it, she thought. They figured her out, and this was Adrian trying to lure her into a trap to arrest her.

Taking a deep breath, she checked the next message, which was sent twenty minutes after the first.

Nova? Are you busy? If not, please respond.

The third one was five minutes after the first.

Of course you’re busy. You would’ve responded by now. Ignore my last message.

The most recent text was sent two minutes ago.

Nova? We’re all here. You’re not dead or something, are you? Please tell me you aren’t because I would be really upset.

Nova snorted, shoulders relaxing in relief. She believed she was safe, for the time being. She bit her lip, thinking of a response.

Hey. Sorry. Turns out I’m pretty sick, and my uncle took anything that could distract me so I could rest.

Nova thought back to a few days before, when she had pretended to feel under the weather in order to have an excuse to leave the visit to Max. She couldn’t stand to be there any longer without being weighed down by the guilt. It was a believable lie. Besides, she didn’t have time to do detective work with Adrian on her secret identity, nor did she have the patience for it. The quicker she and the rest of the Anarchists figured out a way to free Ace, the sooner she could drop the ridiculous Renegade charade.

Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to come by later to give you some company?

The smile that grew on Nova’s face was inevitable, along with the giddy spark in her stomach. She suppressed it though, and denied his offer, pushing away all thoughts of being able to curl up against Adrian while they did something as mundane as watching a movie.

No, thank you though. My uncle is pretty strict whenever I get sick and doesn’t like visitors. Maybe another time?

She received a response almost immediately.

Definitely! I hope you get to feeling better, Nova.

It was so sweet. Nova’s heart ached. Even though she wasn’t sick, she had a feeling she would feel better soon anyways.    

Thanks, Adrian.

Nova sent the text. She debated on whether or not to send something else. Something came to mind, and she immediately cringed. Then Ace’s words floated through her mind. Earn his affection.

Well.

With a defeated sigh, Nova reluctantly sent a text with a heart.

Sweet rot, her IQ just dropped by 20.

Downstairs, Honey started singing. Nova suspected she was cleaning; she tended to sing when fixing up the old house. Nova groaned. Honey wasn’t a terrible singer, but it did not mix well with Nova’s pounding head. Maybe she was actually getting sick.

Standing from the vanity, Nova brushed off her leggings. The butterfly was moving in its prison, crawling lazily along the side of the glass. Nova bent down to eye level with it. She could’ve sworn it made eye contact with her.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” she murmured. “Maybe in a different reality we’d be friends.” She meant it, much as she hated to admit it to herself. Danna was a lot like her; it was a shame they were too alike, for that’s what got Danna trapped in the first place.

Nova sighed and rose back up. She took off her communicator band, then reached for her coat lying on the bed and headed downstairs. Honey’s trilling voice grew louder. She was singing some song about the beauty of the southern countryside.

Leroy was seated in the dimly lit kitchen, surrounded by lab equipment. Nova saw the samples of Agent N she had snatched in the past few weeks. He nodded in Nova’s direction as form of greeting, too engulfed in his work. As Nova suspected, Honey was cleaning. She was standing on a towel on top of the counter, wiping a wet rag across the higher cabinets.

Nova cleared her throat. “I’m going for a walk. You guys need anything while I’m out?”

They both chorused a “No.” Nova nodded.

“I’ll be back, then.”

“Hey, Adrian...um… come check this out,” Ruby whispered hesitantly from the computer across his. Adrien looked up from his communicator band, the faint trace of a smile on his lips from Nova’s last text. The heart was unexpected, and frankly, not like Nova at all, but it radiated Adrien’s body in warmth. The concentrated set in Ruby’s eyes made the smile fade, however.

They were in the Renegade library and archives, doing research on Nightmare. Adrian had about five open tabs about her most recent sightings and activity. One of the tabs was an article discussing the identity of the Anarchist, but the information was of no use to Adrian.

He got out of his chair and walked around the table to stand behind Ruby. Next to her, Oscar leaned over, craning his neck to see the screen. There was an unopened file in front of Ruby.

“So I was thinking about what you told us, about Nightmare being Ace Anarchy’s niece?” Adrian nodded, and Ruby continued. “Well, his last name is Artino, correct?” Adrian nodded again. “I looked up the name, and well, I guess you should see for yourself.” She clicked on the file. It was a report from about ten years ago filed by his own dad, Hugh Everhart.

Four people found dead. David Artino: age 31. Tala Artino: age 30. Evie Artino: age 11 months. One unnamed man: age unknown. Suspected Anarchist or Roach affiliation.

Forensics confirm all deaths were a result of direct trauma from bullet wounds, without prodigy interference. Prints found on the gun matched both those of the unnamed man and also those of Alec Artino (alias: Ace Anarchy).

There is reason to suspect the deaths of the three family members were done as a killing for hire. The motive for the homicide remain under investigation. See the full report as filed by Hugh Everhart (Captain Chromium) here.

Additional notes: The eldest child, a six year old girl, was not found at the scene. Neighbors have reported no knowledge of her whereabouts. A report has been made to the Renegades missing persons unit.

Oscar whistled lowly. Ruby had highlighted the last paragraph. She was watching the two boys, lips pursed. Adrian read the report, over and over again. Something about it wasn’t right.

“Was the girl ever found?” Oscar asked. Ruby answered his question by opening another file. This one was a missing persons form, dated ten years ago. 

Name: Nova Jean Artino

Age: Six (6) years old

Height: Unknown

Weight: Unknown

Description: Black hair, blue eyes, parents were Italian and Filipino.

Status: Not found

If any information is known, contact the Renegades Missing Persons Unit.

Below the information was a fuzzy picture of a girl, taken by an outdated camera probably. She grinned at the person behind the camera, a wide gap below her upper lip where two front teeth should have been. In her arms was a newborn baby, fast asleep in her sister’s arms. Adrian let out a small gasp. He took the mouse from Ruby and zoomed in on the girl’s face. Her features were chubby, but the hard set of her jaw was unmistakable.

“Great skies,” Oscar breathed. “That’s not...it can’t be..”

“It is,” Ruby confirmed, disbelief in her voice. “That’s our Nova.”

7.24.2021'Reflections of a Russian-Romantic-Orthodox-Post-Soviet Obstetrician / Aspiring Catholic-Post-Reformation-Unified-Church Pediatric Neurosurgeon (Divider of Freak-Conjoined Child-Brains) cum. Bethlehem College and Seminary M. Div. Global Studies + Savior of Worldwide North Korean Studies + Policy  + Final Flaming Sword Destroyer of Democrat Intellectual Arrogance, Child-Hate, God-Hate and Anti-Korean Racism' Flaming swords that divide people, change the world, change souls... Russia's determination to remember tragedy as well as mercy and a spirit of gentle adoption whereby they treat students and other young people much different from what I did; also Russian anti-Nazism - everlasting I imagine - in an age when respect-me-or-die attitudes, moral purity, intellectual hubris and Scientism, messianic corporatism and much else are either being accelerated or badly necromanced as everyone tries to settle every little score (an easy way to forget all the starvation, organ-harvesting, betrayal of human promise that is going on every second).  I'm only writing this because it's 7:08 in the morning and it's easier to write than not to write.  Lately I developed the habit of 'Holding the Dream' to paraphrase the title of a Nora Roberts novel about children that I tried to turn in to 'Project 521' in a gentler time.  I read a C.S. Lewis essay though I forget which one, perhaps 'Home,' about being known.  When I read this essay at night it reminds me of a more trusting whole time as does Knausgaard's 'A Time for Everything' whose title is a joke at several levels; a book I'll finish reading, if I even finish 'Autumn' which is my favorite work of his about an unborn daughter, a 'notebook-letter-bouquet' which is a genre I appreciate.For a while I felt I was close to greatness and that my mind and heart were in unison with those I most respect around this globe such as Chancellor John Piper with respect to abortion-culture - playing God - but no matter what I say this is a Maoist era in which power has to be backed by guns or other 'hard' resources.  I was also compelled or perhaps tempted to provide background for my spiritual development which in retrospect attracted 'assassins' who were only interested in cherry-picking my worst moment. I honestly came to feel that there is some 'unconditional evil, unconditional hatred' in some that makes them - no matter how nobly they speak or how hard they worked in the past - determined to destroy something at the end rather than build something or help someone or do what they said they would do.I wondered if I blasphemed someone or something so that God allowed the Prince of Darkness through these people, every professing Christians or family-members.  People are talking about spirit and intellect and insight but forget that Lucifer has all these in abundance.  I've had some delusions and kept responding to people outside of myself.  I learned a lot about people whom understanding was without purpose or profit as a) telling them to themselves, that their expectations were wrong or criminal or sadistic or nihilistic or of the party of 'the protest of ultimate futility' - the messaging whereby someone says ultimately nothing matters or you don't matter - was never going to alter their mindsb) this increased experience of human / spiritual evil didn't really constitute increase of knowledge, wisdom, understanding but only more 'CCP-esque pimp-love lie-fare gas-lighting brain-damage; brick to the head' or to put it more gently a wrong emphasis of factors which distorted mood or disposition as an orchestra with good rehearsal, preparation, and conductor could be eroded in the wrong hands over time, and people were just trying to wear me down in a 'Bleed France White' war of attrition against everything I've tried to be and do  I also realized of late the time had come to give up certain perquisites that I had had in mind to one day gain or 'help myself to.'  At the bottom of my soul I guess I always wanted to cash in; someone else on FB after the miraculous sparing of my life in 2012 started spreading around an experience that I had had with a student in 2012 which was nothing like the K-wave NC-17 version could have been the CCP deepfake character-assassination pretext for WW3 or Covid unrestricted biowarfare against white guys.  Words can't fly back in to the mouth that once let them out and at this point I have no idea what my legacy could be - or in a way hopefully no one even cares anymore although I suspect they keep some version of the story somewhere for a dinner-party IDK why I am saying this; you can reason with some people / try and teach them but if they have no compelling reason to change they might just savage youI wondered lately whether some people really believe.  They want life but their interpretation / understanding or imago of life - who knows?  'Tomorrow will be like today only more so' (Isaiah, mutatis mutandis).  They might love life or hate life but they want it and they also often don't care where it comes from, which is part of why right now the debate over social justice or the fact that so much in the United States comes from outside of the United States, or the fact that poor Millennials et al. are often still unable to get married and have children while Boomers ride emperor-on-palanquin- style on top of the Social Security system and reproach us for believing, like the title of a novel about Shanghai, 'What We Were Promised' at the breakfast-table or in (public, Democrato-Maoist-intellectual-town-bike-fruitbasket) schools about freedom, self-esteem, magic - world peace, nuclear disarmament, the 'salvation' of the natural environment, outer space, technology, non-traditional families, racial reconciliation, international adjudication of breaches of international law and esp. enforcement of human rights.  It struck me several times in recent months and years that the rulers, the sovereigns, the princes and great captains of the nations I admire such as Israel and Korea were often either a) special forces soldiers (such as Moon Jaein, Ehud Barak)b) human rights lawyers (Roh Moohyun, Moon Jaein again)c) spies (the individual who might actually have closest to total control of world-events right now; or at least the ultimate veto of everything and everyone, with variable selectivity and specificity / detail) I don't know if I was overreacting or what; I was comfortable with my 'modest income' from mental illness and felt adequately justified since I was engaged in respectable activities; I felt I hadn't really had a moment's rest in life since I was about 4, constantly shot at, judged, abused, thrown to wolves etc. and blamed for my own problems since I 'didn't "make" daddy____.'   I even believed I had a chance to re-emerge since everyone amid Covid appears to be essentially on the same side.  Before recent events I event felt an 'FDR-moment' / 'New Deal moment' was feasible under Biden though I now see clearly I believe that JRBJr. can't control his underlings, staff, et al. as FDR was able to do; and America and the world are simply too complicated.  Vladimir Putin was saying - and he doesn't always lie - basically that constitutional democracies are too weak.  Neoliberal+ shills, 'Wahh bureaucracy, Milton Friedman, grist for our mill, cliche, cliche, eat the poor, abandon the weak, post-partum-abortion, God is dead' but a lot of these people are part of a bureaucracy as well and Russia's got government bureaus, CCP does, Korea does.  Anyone who ever loved or admired Confucius or studied China knows - though many such as Ezra Vogel and Tu Weiming and some dumb-ass Australians and Indian-Singaporean pervert this knowledge for pleasure and profit - what can be achieved through sincere, spiritual, loving, reverent, educated, talented, qualified, also beauty-loving, statecraft.I guess the only question in a way is whether Microsoft themselves have nuclear weapons or Google built the guidance-systems or something and that's not an LRB title though if I had lived a purer life to this point I might be on staff there or at least they'd welcome me in the cake-shop.  Howbeit at this point my 'last wish' is kind of to die in Korea where they journalists are NOT affected or mercenary, and the rag-picking of ppl like me is not fake or ultimately egocentric / meretricious / simulacrum or sham-virtue (again I hate to talk about Nietzsche since I wanted to move on to just David Platt, Saint Augustine, John Piper, John MacArthur, global Christianity 2022).  Korea's also, I noticed, a country where the Covid body-account appears to be honest and I know for a fact, as Dr., Prof, much else Eric Feigl-Ding has been talking about on Twitter about 25 hours a day, a country in which the Democrat mentality of 'you got sick you're stupid' or the Milwaukee mentality of 'you got sick bypass watch you die joke at bar but we're still good Christians South Park Satan must be good to be evil sometimes' isn't in effect and people have resolved to do everything they can both to prevent and to mitigate as well to contain or pocket though no one wants to talk much about that.  Like I said the other day I wish I were in Korea; I also had a dream about one of those free-standing station-stops in rural Japan that reminded me of 'Cafe Lumiere' by Hou Hsiao Hsien and a conversation I had with Prof. Ban Wang fmr. Rutgers and last I checked Stanford about how Japan had built these intricate rail-systems in order to help preserve rural culture.  Another good film about rural Japan is 'Hanamizuki' although IDK if post-Covid anyone is going to want to talk again about micro-sized kindergartens, the Iraq War, fishing, the meanings of trees, following through on commitments or promises, or returning gratitude and love.  IDK whether the stuff I read over the last 5-10 years about housing-prices in places like rural Japan or, alternatively, Vladivostok are as low as I've read but if they have good internet I might go if only b/c  people there aren't interested in teaching you every lesson or extracting the max. from you then leaving you to die in the name of 'getting to know one.'  There's a short Somerset Maugham book called 'The Moon and Sixpence' though I don't admire Maugham that much and prefer his literary criticism / critical appreciations of other writers and cultures to his fiction but it feels like what some people are looking for today is more like 'huge amounts of money, charming personality, offer we can't refuse, satisfying sexual favor or we either vivisect you or pozz you up with 1st-gen anti-psychotics / kill you with ECT and still deny the exist of God, as well as demons.'My other privileged Millennial friends are all mad at me for not bearing fruit and my 'last love' said I dishonored my parents but Koreans  & maybe they don't get just how much Mark Johnston et al. are totally committed to reversing course at the most destructive possible moments and never paying what they said they'd pay; like how terrorists will sometimes detonate one bomb for the civilians and another for the first responders on the scene - though maybe I just ran out of chances.