A gunshot rang across the grass. The Detonator’s head snapped back, hitting the boards of the theater. The world seemed to still, hovering in a space without time. Then the Detonator slumped down. Adrian released his breath and watched her topple onto her side, leaving a smear of blood on the wood. Real blood. Adrian flexed his fingers, dissipating the building energy, and peered into the shadows of the fun house. Nova pushed aside a blockade of wood scraps and crawled out of the rotating cylinder that had crashed down from the second floor and landed not far from the exit doors—or where the
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NOVA IS A BADASS
