I stare down at the card, at the embossed letters spelling out "Richard Duvall, Republican Candidate for City Council." I can feel Jordan's eyes on me, can sense their disbelief and disgust. I want to spit on it - I don't want that guy within a mile of me ever again if I can help it - but I can't make too deep of a stink. I might need to come back here again at some point. I don't want to burn the bridges if I can afford it.

I pick up the card and slip it into my pocket without looking at it, the rage and disgust still churning in my gut like some kind of venomous snake waiting to strike.

"We should go," I mutter to Jordan, standing up abruptly. "We've taken up enough of Mr. Duvall's time. I'm sure the man has a lot of puppies to kick before the end of the day."

But Duvall leans forward, clearly nonplussed. "Now now, Sam. If you wanted to hear my opinion, then I'm more than happy to share it. But I'm sensing that you and your underage friend got a whiff of something you don't understand and have bitten off more than you can chew on."

Now it's Jordan's turn to yank on my arm warningly. They make surreptitious nodding motions towards the door with their head. I catch the very beginnings of that evil, mean, barking laughter from Duvall as we slip out of the office in a flurry of scattered papers. We don't say a word in the elevator ride down to the street. We don't say a word as we walk down the block and duck into an alley. I wait until we're safely in the shadows to let out a low, guttural scream of frustration that bounces off the brick walls like a ricocheting bullet.

"That fucking piece of fucking shit!" I snarl, slamming my fist into the side of a dumpster. It crumples at my blow, the sound of denting metal like music to my seething ears. "Did you hear the way he was talking?"

Jordan leans against the opposite wall of the alley, their face a mix of disgust and resignation. "I know, right? What a complete and utter asshole. I feel like I need a shower just from being in the same room as him."

I nod, still seething. "Did you hear the way he was talking about Kensington and Tioga? Like they're just... just garbage dumps full of criminals, instead of neighborhoods full of real people with real lives and real problems?"

"Yeah, I caught that," Jordan says, their voice dripping with sarcasm. "Real subtle, wasn't he? About as subtle as a brick to the face."

I pace back and forth in the narrow alley, my hands clenching and unclenching at my sides. "And the way he just dismissed everything we were saying about Richardson! Like we were just a couple of stupid kids playing detective or something."

Jordan nods, their expression thoughtful. "Yeah, that was... frustrating. But you know, Sam, I hate to say it, but... maybe Richardson winning wouldn't be the worst thing in the world."

I stop dead in my tracks, whirling to face them. "Are you serious right now? Jordan, she's a criminal! She's part of the Kingdom of Keys! She's responsible for... for everything that's happened to us, to the city! Her guys shot us!"

Jordan holds up their hands defensively. "I know, I know! Trust me, I'm not saying I like her or anything. But come on, Sam. You saw what Duvall is like. Can you imagine someone like that in a position of power? At least with Richardson, we know what we're dealing with."

I shake my head, unable to believe what I'm hearing. "So what, we just let a known criminal take office because the alternative is a racist asshole? That's not how this is supposed to work, Jordan!"

"And how is it supposed to work, Sam?" Jordan counters, their voice rising. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like we're screwed either way. At least Richardson seems to give a shit about the city, even if it's just because she wants to exploit it. Duvall? He'd probably be happy if half the neighborhoods in Philly just disappeared overnight."

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I open my mouth to argue, then close it again, feeling a wave of confusion and frustration wash over me. The thought of someone like Duvall in a position of power makes my skin crawl. But the idea of just standing back and letting Richardson win, knowing what we know about her... it goes against everything I believe in as a hero.

"I don't know," I say at last, slumping against the wall next to Jordan. "I just... I feel like we're stuck between a rock and a hard place here."

Jordan nods, their expression softening. "Welcome to the wonderful world of adult politics, Sam. Where everything sucks and there are no good choices. Take solace in the fact that city council is not a really important position. God forbid she was mayor or something, then we might have had to consider assassination."

I can tell they meant it as a joke, but it doesn't feel funny in the moment.

We stand there in silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts. The sounds of the city filter in around us - car horns, distant sirens, the chatter of people passing by on the street. It all feels so normal, so ordinary.

"I wish I could just do it myself, man," I mumble, more to myself than anyone else.

Jordan raises an eyebrow. "Are you saying you'd consider a career in politics, Samantha Small? Because I gotta say, I'm not sure the world is ready for Shark Girl: The Senator."

I can't help but laugh at that, the tension in my chest easing just a little. "God, can you imagine? I'd probably end up punching someone on the Senate floor in my first week."

"Now that I'd pay to see," Jordan chuckles. "But seriously, Sam... what are we going to do about this?"

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I don't know. I mean, we can't just sit back and do nothing, right? But what can we do? We don't have any real proof against Richardson, and even if we did, would it matter? People seem to love her."

Jordan nods, their expression thoughtful. "Maybe that's the key, though. People love her because they think they know her. But they don't know the real her, the one we've seen. If we could find a way to expose that..."

"But how?" I ask, feeling a flicker of hope despite myself. "The election is in like... three days," I say, counting on my fingers. "Would anything we do swing the pendulum at this point?"

Jordan shrugs. "I don't know. But there's got to be something we're missing. Some angle we haven't considered yet."

I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Maybe we need to talk to someone who knows more about how the system works. Someone who might have access to information we don't."

"Like who?" Jordan asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Like Councilman Davis," I say, the idea solidifying in my mind. "He's already on the City Council, and he's the civilian head of the Delaware Valley Defenders. If anyone would know about Richardson's background, or have the resources to look into it, it'd be him."

Jordan sighs, pushing themselves off the wall. "I guess you're right. It's not like we've got anything to lose at this point."

As we start to make our way out of the alley, I feel a sudden wave of exhaustion wash over me. It's been a long day, and it's not even noon yet. "Hey, Jordan?" I say, my voice soft.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For... for being here. For helping me with all this. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jordan looks at me, their expression softening. "Hey, what are friends for? Besides, someone's got to keep you from doing anything too stupid."

I laugh, giving them a playful shove. "Shut up. I'm not that bad."

"Oh really?" Jordan says, raising an eyebrow. "You went to fight a neo-Nazi with super strength by yourself. You are that stupid."

I feel my shoulders raise. "And it worked! I got him to stand down!"

As we walk, I find myself thinking about how much has changed since I first met Jordan. Back then, they were my enemy, and I was fully prepared to punch them in the middle of school. Now... now I can't imagine my life without them. They're my partner, my confidant, the one person I know I can always count on, no matter what.

It's strange, how quickly someone can become such an integral part of your life. How one day you're strangers, and the next, you're sharing your deepest secrets and wildest dreams. I wonder, briefly, if this is what it's like for normal teenagers. If they all have friendships like this, or if it's just another weird quirk of our superhero lives.

"Hey, Jordan?" I say as we approach the imposing stone edifice of City Hall.

"Yeah?"

"No matter what happens in there... thanks for having my back. I couldn't do this without you."

Jordan looks at me, a rare smile crossing their face. "Don't mention it, Smalls. Someone's got to keep you from biting off more than you can chew."