I fidget nervously in the uncomfortable plastic chair, my eyes darting around the austere meeting room of the Delaware Valley Defenders headquarters. The walls are a dull beige, adorned with framed certificates and photographs of various heroes in action. It's meant to be inspiring, I guess, but right now it just makes me feel small and out of place.

Councilman Davis sits across from me, his expression neutral as he flips through a folder on the table between us. This is the first time I've ever requested a private audience with him, and my stomach flips with a mixture of apprehension and dread.

"So, Samantha," he says, finally looking up from the folder. "You wanted to discuss Maya Richardson's campaign for City Council. I have to say, I'm a bit surprised. I didn't think local politics was really in your... wheelhouse."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Adults always seem to think that teenagers are incapable of caring about anything beyond their own narrow interests. "It's not usually, sir," I say, trying to keep my voice steady. "But I have some concerns about Mrs. Richardson that I think you should be aware of."

Davis leans back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Concerns? What kind of concerns?"

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I have reason to believe that Mrs. Richardson is involved with the Kingdom of Keys. They're responsible for a lot of the drug trafficking and violence in the city, and I think she might be one of them, if not one of their leaders. If you, um, remember last year when Mr. T-Rex attacked my home... she was there."

Davis nods slowly, his expression thoughtful, lips pursed. "I believe you, Sam. In fact, we've had our suspicions about Mrs. Richardson - Mrs. Zenith - for some time now."

I blink, taken aback. "Wait, you know she's Mrs. Zenith? And you're just... okay with that?"

Davis sighs, leaning back in his chair. "It's not that simple, Sam. We've known about her alter ego for a while now, yes. But knowing something and being able to prove it in a court of law are two very different things."

I feel a flicker of frustration in my chest. "But if you know she's a supervillain, why can't you just... I don't know, arrest her or something?"

"Because we live in a society of laws, Sam," Davis says, his voice patient but firm. "We can't just go around arresting people because we think they might be criminals. We need evidence, solid proof that will stand up in court."

I slump in my chair, feeling deflated. "But we have evidence. We've seen her with our own eyes, working with the Kingdom. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Davis shakes his head. "Eyewitness testimony is notoriously unreliable, especially when it comes from... well, let's say 'interested parties' like yourself. With all respect - and I mean it, I'm not saying it just to condescend to you - your history with the Kingdom makes you a less than impartial witness."

I bristle at that, but I can't really argue with his logic. "So what, we just let her get elected to the City Council? Let a known supervillain have a say in how our city is run?"

"It's not ideal, I'll grant you that," Davis says, rubbing his temples. "But the fact is, we've been trying to build a case against Richardson and the Kingdom for years now. They're slippery, always one step ahead of us. Even with all our resources, all our best parallel construction, we just can't get anything to stick. It's the same problems that they had sticking down the old mob, too. Everything is done through intermediaries, soldiers, and associates, people without connections higher up the ladder. They're paying off police officers to cover for them. And nobody can remember what that man in the suit looked like when there was a Tyrannosaurus Rex running down the street seconds earlier."

I look at him with an eyebrow raised. "The mafia had dinosaurs?"

"Well, maybe that one's a bit of a new-age problem, I'll admit..." he mumbles, chuckling to himself.

I lean forward, my hands gripping the edge of the table. "Aren't there people with, like, psychic powers that can do something about this? I'm sure she's shot someone, I think you need to do that just to get initiated, like Mudslide did. And this girl I met named Sundial can read the past of a location. Doesn't the government have anything like that?"

Davis looks at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighs, reaching for a folder on the table in front of him. "I have an answer to that, but you're not going to like it."

I raise an eyebrow. "Try me."

"Have you ever heard of postcognitive background checks?" Davis asks, opening the folder and spreading out a series of documents.

I shake my head, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "No, what's that?"

"It's a relatively new procedure," Davis explains, his voice taking on a lecturing tone. "We use individuals with postcognitive abilities - people who can see into the past - to conduct thorough background checks on candidates for high-level positions."

I narrow my eyes. "Right, that's exactly what I was suggesting."

Davis shakes his head. "We don't use them for something as minor as city council. They're reserved for positions with higher security clearances - mayors, governors, senators, that sort of thing."

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"Why?" I ask, genuinely curious. "Wouldn't it make sense to use them for all elected officials?"

Davis leans back in his chair, his expression grave. "Here's the thing, Sam. Postcognitive checks are... invasive. They don't just look at your public record or your credit history. They can see everything you've ever done, every mistake you've ever made, every secret you've ever kept. It's a massive violation of privacy."

I feel a chill run down my spine as I consider the implications. "That... that does sound pretty invasive," I admit. "But if it could catch criminals like Richardson before they get into power, isn't it worth it?"

Davis's expression darkens. "Is it, though? Think about it, Sam. How would you feel if someone could look into your past and see everything you've ever done? Every embarrassing moment, every white lie, every time you've bent the rules or made a mistake? And not just you - your family, your friends, anyone you've ever interacted with. All laid bare for strangers to judge."

I squirm uncomfortably in my seat, the full weight of what he's describing settling over me. "I... I guess I wouldn't like that very much," I admit. "But still, if it could stop bad people from getting into power..."

"At what cost, though?" Davis counters. "Where do we draw the line? Today it's high-level government officials, tomorrow it's city council members, the next day it's everyone applying for a job or trying to rent an apartment. It's a slippery slope, Sam. Once we start down that road, it's very hard to turn back."

I feel a surge of frustration. "But surely you could make an exception? If you have suspicions about her..."

"We could," Davis admits. "But there are... complications. Political considerations. Using postcognitive checks on a local election candidate without clear probable cause... it could be seen as an abuse of power. Especially given Richardson's... background."

I frown, not following. "Her background? You mean as a supervillain? Or, like, as an ex-superhero, as I found out earlier today?"

Davis shakes his head. "No, I mean her background as a woman of color running for office. Using extraordinary measures to investigate her without solid evidence... it could be seen as discriminatory. We have to be very careful about how we use these tools, Sam."

I nod slowly, trying to process everything he's saying. "But... if we already have this, and we're already using it for some positions, why not use it for Richardson? Especially if we already suspect her of being involved with the Kingdom?"

Davis sighs, rubbing his forehead. "Because, Sam, we have to follow the rules. Even when - especially when - it's inconvenient. If we start bending the rules every time we think it might be justified, pretty soon we won't have any rules left at all. We'd be no better than the criminals we're trying to stop."

My face scrunches up again. "So we just let her get away with it? Let her take office and use her power to help the Kingdom?"

"I didn't say that," Davis says, holding up a hand. "We keep investigating. We keep building our case. And we trust in the system, flawed as it may be, to eventually bring her to justice."

I slump back in my chair, feeling defeated. "It just... it doesn't feel right," I mutter.

Davis leans forward, his expression softening. "I know it doesn't, Sam. Believe me, I understand your frustration. But part of being a hero - a real hero, not just someone with powers - is doing the right thing even when it's hard. Even when it feels like the wrong thing in the moment."

I nod, not entirely convinced but too exhausted to argue further. "I guess you're right," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

Davis nods, his expression sympathetic. "I understand, Sam. Believe me, I've had many sleepless nights wrestling with these same issues. But the fact is, this is the world we live in now. We have to adapt, or we risk being left behind."

"So what's our next move?" I ask, trying to sound professional and mature.

Davis leans back in his chair, his expression thoughtful. "For now, we continue to gather intelligence. We monitor Richardson's activities, her associates, her finances. If she's really involved with the Kingdom, she'll slip up eventually. And when she does, we'll be there to catch her."

I nod, feeling a mix of annoyance and determination. "And in the meantime? We just... let her run for office?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Davis says with a sigh. "Unless we can find concrete evidence of wrongdoing before the election, we have to let the democratic process play out. Even if we don't like the outcome."

I slump in my chair, feeling suddenly exhausted. "This sucks. I mean, I get it, I do. But it still sucks."

Davis chuckles, his expression softening. "Welcome to the world of adult politics, Sam. It's messy, it's complicated, and it often leaves you feeling like you need a shower. But it's the system we've got, and we have to work within it if we want to make any real change."

I nod, pushing myself to my feet. "I guess you're right. Thanks for... for being honest with me about all this. I know it can't be easy, telling a kid about all the shady stuff that goes on behind the scenes."

Davis stands as well, coming around the table to put a hand on my shoulder. "You're not just a kid, Sam. You're a hero. And part of being a hero is understanding the complexities of the world we're trying to protect. It's not always black and white, good guys versus bad guys. Often, it's the uncomfortable shades of gray that really teach you what a person is like inside."

I nod, feeling a strange mix of pride and uncertainty, thinking about Patriot, for some reason. "I'll try to remember that."

Davis studies me for a moment, his brow furrowed. "Sam, I need you to promise me something."

I look up, meeting his gaze. "What?"

"Promise me you won't do anything reckless," he says, his voice deadly serious. "I know you're frustrated, and I know you want to help. But going after Richardson on your own, or trying to expose her without solid evidence... it could backfire spectacularly. Not just for you, but for everyone working to bring her down legally."

I feel a flicker of defiance in my chest, but I force it down. "I promise," I say, even as a part of me rebels against the words. "I won't do anything stupid."

Davis nods, seemingly satisfied. "Good. And Sam? I'm proud of you for bringing this to my attention. It shows real maturity and a commitment to doing things the right way."

I force a smile, even as I feel a knot of unease forming in my stomach. "Thanks, Councilman Davis. I appreciate your time."

As I turn to leave, Davis calls out one last time. "Sam? Be careful out there. Richardson and the Kingdom... they're dangerous. Don't underestimate them."

I pause at the door, looking back over my shoulder. "I won't. I've learned that lesson the hard way."

As I make my way out of the Delaware Valley Defenders headquarters, my mind is spinning with everything I've learned. Part of me wants to call Jordan immediately, to share everything and start planning our next move. But another part of me, a quieter, more cautious part, whispers that maybe I should take some time to process all of this first. To really think about what it means, not just for our fight against the Kingdom, but for the world we live in.

I pull out my phone, staring at the blank screen for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, I slip it back into my pocket.