The stairs up to the main floor of the Tacony Music Hall creak under our feet as Maggie and I make our way up, the sound impossibly loud in the tense silence. My heart's still pounding from the chase, and every shadow seems to loom like a threat. I'm exhausted, hurting, and more than a little freaked out by this whole mess, but I try to keep my game face on for Maggie's sake. Kid's been through enough tonight without me adding to it.

As we emerge into the vast, echoing space of what used to be the Music Hall's auditorium, I spot a flicker of movement off to the side. Instantly, I'm on high alert, muscles tensing as I step in front of Maggie, ready to face whatever new threat is waiting for us. But then, fast as a sprung trap, two familiar faces jump into defensive postures, Spindle's limbs blurring as Jordan pulls a pair of sparkplug shooters outs - and then immediately stows them once they recognize me.

But then a familiar voice calls out, "Sam? Is that you?"

I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding as Jordan steps into the light, Spindle right behind them. They're both in civilian clothes, which throws me for a second, because I think I was expecting more cronies, my entire body, brain included, on high alert. Jordan's got a bright yellow hoodie on, which was probably also not helping matters.

"Whoa, hey, friendly!" I call out, hands raised in the universal 'don't shoot' posture.

"Jesus, Sam, way to give us a heart attack," Jordan grumbles, but I can hear the relief in their voice. "We thought you were…"

They trail off as they catch sight of Maggie peeking out from behind me, eyes wide and wary. "Uh, who's your friend?"

"This is Maggie," I say, stepping aside so they can see her more clearly. "Also known as Flashpoint. She's… I'm kind of mentoring her, I guess?"

I can practically feel Maggie's surprise and confusion radiating off her in waves, but to her credit, she steps forward and gives Jordan and Spindle a little wave. "Hi," she says, her voice only shaking a tiny bit, "nice to meet you."

Jordan raises an eyebrow but nods back. "Likewise," they say, their gaze flicking over to me in a silent question. I just shake my head slightly - we'll get into the details later.

That's when I notice the fourth - fifth - person in the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor amid a tangle of wires and electronic components. For a second, I think my exhaustion must be playing tricks on my eyes, because that looks an awful lot like…

"Tasha?" I blurt out, surprise overriding my usual brain-to-mouth filter.

Tasha looks up, her face breaking into a surprised but genuine smile. "Hey, Sam," she says, setting down the pliers she was holding. "Long time no see."

I just stare at her, my brain struggling to process this new information. Tasha, here, in the secret base of operations for a group of teenage superheroes and vigilantes. Tasha, who I haven't really talked to since… god, since before everything went down with Sparkplug, months ago. It feels like a lifetime.

An awkward silence stretches out as we just look at each other, me gaping like a hooked fish and Tasha waiting patiently, that little smile still playing around her lips. I'm suddenly very aware of how I must look - sweaty, disheveled, still in my Bloodhound costume minus the helmet, which is sitting curled underneath my armpit. Not exactly the reunion I would have planned.

Beside me, I can feel Maggie's confusion and curiosity like a palpable thing. She keeps looking between me and Tasha, clearly trying to figure out the story there. I wish her the best of luck, because I'm not sure I understand it myself.

Before the silence can get too oppressive, Jordan clears their throat pointedly. "So, uh, not that it's not great to see you, Sam, but… what brings you here? And with a new sidekick in tow?"

That snaps me back to the present, the reality of the situation crashing back down. Right. The chase, Zero, our powers going haywire. The reason we're here in the first place.

"We were attacked," I say, the words coming out in a rush. "Or, well, stalked, I guess. Some guy named Zero and his goon squad cornered us while we were training. And…" Here I hesitate, not quite sure how to explain what happened next.

Maggie jumps in, her voice tight with remembered fear. "He did something to our powers," she says. "Just… turned them off, somehow. Like flipping a switch."

Jordan's eyes widen, their expression going from concerned to alarmed in a heartbeat. "What, like… like Mr. Nothing? He grabbed you and it was gone?"

"No… Mr. Nothing needs physical contact for his power to work," I say slowly. "This guy could do it from a distance."

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Spindle lets out a low whistle. "But I thought that kind of power nullification was… not common," he says, exchanging a look with Jordan. "I mean, from what Patches told us."

"Apparently not as rare as we thought," I say grimly. "But that's not even the worst part. They chased us - him and his followers. They were wearing these weird yellow masks and had fucking bandanas on like it's the wild west or something. There was seven, eight, nine…"

Jordan's expression hardens. "Sam, please tell me you didn't lead them here."

I shake my head vehemently. "No, of course not! We lost them way before we got to the Music Hall. Ducked through some alleys and managed to get out of Zero's range, I think. Our powers came back, so he must have been too far away to affect them anymore."

Jordan doesn't look entirely convinced, but nods slowly. "Okay. Okay, that's… that's good. But we should still relocate any sensitive materials, just to be safe. Spindle?"

The tall boy nods, already moving towards the stacks of boxes and equipment lining the walls. "On it."

Tasha stands up, dusting off her legs. "I can help with that," she says, nodding towards the mess of wires and gadgetry. "Give me two minutes to get this stuff squared away, then I'm all yours for spy shit duty."

Jordan blinks, looking at her like they're seeing her for the first time. "Uh, thanks, Tasha. Didn't realize you were so…"

"Good with tech?" she finishes, grinning. "I'm full of surprises. I've been learning under Marcus's tutelage. The Mayfly stuff…"

I wave a hand over my face, as if to ask her not to talk about it.

That pulls a reluctant smile from Jordan as well. "Apparently so."

As they start divvying up tasks, I pull Maggie aside, lowering my voice. "Hey, you doing okay? I know this is a lot to take in."

She nods, but I can see the strain around her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. "Yeah, I'm… I'll be fine. It's just… a lot. And I'm worried about my parents. What if those creeps go after them to get to me?"

I wince, guilt twisting in my gut. I hadn't even thought of that. "Shit, you're right. Okay, as soon as we get things settled here, we'll figure out a way to check on them, make sure they're safe. I promise. But I don't think they know who you are or got a good look at your LUMA, so you shouldn't have to worry about that."

She gives me a grateful look, some of the tension easing from her face. "Thanks, Sam. For… for everything. I know I kind of barged into your life with this whole mentor thing, but… I'm really glad you're here."

I'm not great with the whole feelings thing, but I manage to give her a one-armed hug, squeezing her shoulder. "I'm glad you're here too, Mags. We'll figure this out, okay?"

She nods against my shoulder, taking a shaky breath. "Okay."

I give her one last squeeze, then pull away, turning my attention back to the group. Jordan and Spindle are deep in discussion, their expressions serious as they gesture at various bits of equipment. Tasha's watching them with an inscrutable look on her face, lips pursed thoughtfully.

I clear my throat, getting their attention. "So, what's the plan? Are we staying put for now, or…?"

Jordan shakes their head, still frowning. "I don't know, Sam. I mean, I trust you, but, if they found you two out training, it's only a matter of time before they start connecting the dots back to us. Maybe it's time to start looking for a new base of operations."

Spindle nods in agreement. "Yeah, much as I love this funky old place, it might be compromised. We could split up, at least until the heat dies down?"

"No way," I say immediately. "We're stronger together, and we need to figure out what the hell is going on with these goons. Splitting up is the last thing we should do."

"Sam's right," Tasha chimes in, surprising us all. "I may not be a superhero, but I know a bit about laying low and staying off the radar. Splitting up just makes you easier to pick off."

Then Jordan starts talking again.

"Wait, no, fuck that," Jordan starts, waving an arm so enthusiastically that long-rusted hinges in their elbow start popping off, yellow powder flaking off bare cast iron. "Now I'm mad, and now I'm invested. We're gonna take this clown down. All of these clowns."

"Are you sure about-" Spindle starts.

"Yes I'm sure," Jordan interrupts, pacing back and forth. "These fascists have been getting way too comfortable lately, especially since the trial went all sideways. But now they've bothered me directly, and I hate getting bothered. I am no longer tolerating this shit. I was already not tolerating this shit, but now I'm super not tolerating this shit. Super Mario not tolerating this shit. This ends now."

I feel a spark of hope ignite in my chest. "What are you thinking, J?"

Jordan turns to face us all, their expression set in grim determination. "I'm thinking we hit back, and we hit back hard. Our website, the whistleblowing, the investigation we've been doing into these private security assholes…it's clearly striking a nerve. So we double down."

Spindle tilts his head, brows furrowed. "You mean go public with what we know? That's risky…"

Jordan says. "We step up the pressure. Dig deeper, expose more of their dirty laundry. Turn up the heat so they know we mean business. I don't care if I have to sift through their fucking undies to find out what brand condom they use while jacking off--"

"Ew," Maggie interrupts, making a face.

"I am going to bury them in so much shit they will drown," Jordan finishes, undeterred.

"But the lawyers," I start, "and the - everything-"

"Oh, I've got a whole team of very motivated civil rights litigators on speed-dial who would love to tear these guys a new asshole," Jordan says with a humorless grin.

Tasha leans in, looking intrigued. "Okay, that sounds promising. But how do we do that without drawing even more attention to ourselves?"

Jordan looks at Tasha funny at the phrase 'ourselves' but doesn't say anything. "We get clever," Jordan says. "We use proxies, cut-outs, burner emails, the whole nine yards to make it impossible to trace anything back to us. It's what I've been doing for the site anyway. And we focus on the data, the evidence, everything we can hurl at them. I need to make these guys as angry as they've made me, so they do something stupid in response, that they can't come back from."

They start ticking points off on their fingers. "Police brutality records, insider reports of misconduct, hell, maybe some financial trails if we can sniff them out. Anything that exposes these bastards for the power-tripping, civil-rights-violating scumbags they are."

Maggie looks a little shell-shocked by all of this, but there's a determined set to her jaw as she listens.

I rub my chin, feeling the gears turning in my head. "It's a start," I say slowly.