My arm throbs dully beneath its bandages as I make my way into the maw of the Delaware Valley Defenders' headquarters, a constant reminder of how close I came to disaster last night. The weight of what I'm about to do - the information I'm about to share - sits heavy in my gut. This isn't just some routine debrief. This could change everything, or, at least, that's what it feels like.

Maybe it's egotistical - something my Mom suggested last night - to assume that one little girl is going to change the course of history (Dad had words about that). But, then again, I already notably influenced the election. Am I letting it go to my head? It's entirely possible. I feel important, thrumming with... I don't know, renown?

As I step into the lobby, I'm greeted by Clara's familiar graying hair, looking a little more gray than it normally does. She's engrossed in a stack of papers, her brow furrowed in concentration. When she spots me, her expression shifts to one of concern.

"Sam," she says, her voice gentle. "Are you alright? We heard about what happened last night."

I force a smile, trying to project more confidence than I feel. "I'm fine, Ms. Parker. Just a little banged up."

She eyes my bandaged arm skeptically but doesn't push it. "Well, I'm glad you're okay. The others are waiting in the meeting room. Councilman Davis is particularly eager to hear your report."

Great. No pressure or anything.

As we make our way to the meeting room, I can't help but fidget nervously. What if they think I screwed up? What if they decide I'm too much of a liability? What if-

The electric lock on the door dings quietly - when did that even get there? - interrupting my spiral of anxious thoughts. We step out into the main conference room, where the rest of the team is already assembled. Multiplex - or rather, several versions of him - is (are?) standing at the head of the table, looking as stern and serious as ever. Bulwark is seated nearby, his massive frame making the reinforced chair look almost comically small. Fury Forge is tinkering with some gadget, her fingers moving with practiced precision. Captain Plasma is floating a few inches off his chair, his cape draped dramatically over the back, eyes furrowed in thought. And there, at the far end of the table, is Councilman Davis, his expression unreadable.

As soon as I enter, all eyes turn to me. I resist the urge to shrink back, to hide behind Clara. Instead, I straighten my spine and meet their gazes as steadily as I can. I glance around, looking for the rest of the Young Defenders. I catch them - they're clustered at the far end of the table, looking slightly out of place among the older heroes. I catch Gossamer's eye as I sit down, and she gives me an encouraging smile. Rampart nods at me, his expression serious but not unkind. Blink looks like she's barely restraining herself from jumping up and hugging me, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

"Bloodhound," Multiplex says, his voice carrying easily across the room. "We've been waiting for you. Please, have a seat."

I nod, making my way to an empty chair. As I sit, I can't help but notice the absence of my own team. My stomach spins like Charybdis. I glance around, realizing with a start that Spindle - Connor - is missing. A flicker of unease goes through me. Did something happen to him after we split up last night? Is he okay?

"Now then," Multiplex continues, once I'm settled. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened last night?"

"Right. So, as most of you know, I went undercover at the Crescent nightclub last night," I start, my voice sounding slightly shaky to my own ears. "I was trying to gather intel on the Kingdom's plans, see if I could find out anything about what they're up to."

I pause, glancing around the room. Everyone is watching me intently, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned.

"I managed to slip into the back offices," I continue, gaining a bit more confidence as I speak. "And that's where I found it. A map of Philadelphia, with a bunch of locations marked on it."

Fury Forge leans forward, her brow furrowed. "What kind of locations?"

"Varied," I say. "City Hall, some high schools, the docks. And... the Philadelphia Zoo, for some reason."

That gets a reaction. I see eyebrows raise, heads tilt in confusion.

"The Zoo?" Captain Plasma repeats, sounding baffled. "Why would they be interested in the Zoo?"

I shrug, wincing slightly as the movement pulls at my stitches. "I don't know. But given what we know about Mrs. Xenograft and her abilities with animals..."

I trail off, letting the implication hang in the air. Davis nods, his expression grim.

"It's concerning, to say the least," he says. "Please, continue Sam. What else did you find?"

So I tell them. About overhearing conversations hinting at some larger plan. About planting the bug in the office, even though Jordan said it probably wouldn't yield much. And finally, reluctantly, about my confrontation with Mudslide.

There's a moment of pained, miserable silence. Then,

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"This is completely unacceptable," Clara bursts out, her legal mind clearly running a mile a minute. "Do you have any idea how many laws were broken during this little escapade? Not to mention the potential liability issues if-"

"Laws?" Bulwark interrupts, his deep voice rumbling with barely contained anger. "You are worried about laws when there are criminals plotting against our city? We should be taking action, not hiding behind legalities!"

"And what action would you suggest?" Captain Plasma asks, his tone mild but his eyes sharp. "Storming into City Hall and accusing a newly elected official of criminal conspiracy based on overheard snippets of conversation?"

"Of course not," Fury Forge chimes in, finally looking up from her gadget. "But we can't just sit on our hands either. If the Kingdom is planning something big, we need to be prepared."

"Prepared for what, exactly?" one of the Multiplexes asks, while another jots down notes furiously. "We don't even know what their endgame is. For all we know, this could be a massive misdirection."

"Or it could be the prelude to a citywide attack," Crossroads says quietly, speaking up for the first time. He's flipping a coin absently between his fingers, his eyes distant. "Or some larger scheme."

"Outcomes based on incomplete information," Councilman Davis points out, his voice cutting through the growing clamor. "We need more intel before we can make any definitive moves."

I've been quiet up to this point, watching the back-and-forth like a spectator at a particularly intense tennis match. But something about Davis's words snaps me out of my daze.

"More intel?" I repeat, unable to keep the frustration out of my voice. "What do you think I've been trying to do? In case you forgot, I nearly got killed getting what we have now!"

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to me once again. I feel a flush creeping up my neck, but I force myself to continue.

"I know it's not much. I know it's not enough. But it's something. And if we don't act on it soon, people could get hurt. More people could die."

Multiplex leans forward, his expression grave. "No one is dismissing your efforts, Bloodhound. But we have to be smart about this. We can't just go charging in blind."

"I agree," Captain Plasma says, nodding. "But maybe there's a middle ground here. What if we reached out to Councilwoman Richardson officially? Under the guise of welcoming her to office, of course."

Bulwark scoffs. "And give her a chance to cover her tracks? No. We need to strike now, while we have the element of surprise."

"Strike at what?" Fury Forge asks, exasperation clear in her voice. "A bunch of red circles on a map? We don't even know what those locations are for!"

"Which is why we need more reconnaissance," another Multiplex chimes in. "But carefully. No more solo missions."

I bristle at that. "I wasn't solo. Spindle was there too."

"And where is Spindle now?" Clara asks, her tone sharp. "Shouldn't he be here for this debriefing?"

I open my mouth to respond, then close it again.

"Spindle is... occupied with other matters at the moment," Crossroads says smoothly, his eyes flicking to me for just a moment. "He's been fully debriefed separately."

Something about the way he says it makes me uneasy, but before I can dwell on it, Councilman Davis speaks up again.

"Look," he says, his voice tired but firm. "We're all dancing around the real issue here. Maya Richardson. We can't ignore the elephant in the room any longer."

The tension in the room ratchets up another notch. I can see the adults exchanging glances, a whole conversation happening in the silence.

"What about her?" Captain Plasma asks finally, his tone carefully neutral.

Davis sighs. "We've had suspicions about her for a while now. Nothing concrete, nothing we could act on. But this..." he gestures to me, to the notes spread out on the table. "This is the first real evidence we've had linking her to the Kingdom. The first bit of dirt under her fingernails."

"Evidence?" Clara scoffs. "Overheard conversations and a map with some circles on it? That wouldn't hold up for five seconds in court."

"Which is why we're not going to court," Bulwark rumbles. "Not yet, anyway."

"Then what are we going to do?" I ask, frustration bubbling up again. "Just sit around and wait for something bad to happen?"

"No," Multiplex says firmly. "We're going to be smart about this. We're going to gather more information, build a stronger case. And we're going to do it carefully, without tipping our hand."

"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Fury Forge asks, skepticism clear in her voice.

"By using the resources we have," Crossroads says, that distant look back in his eyes. "Sam's given us a starting point," he continues, nodding in my direction. "We know some of the places they're targeting. We can start there, see if we can figure out the why and the how."

"And in the meantime?" Bulwark asks, his arms crossed over his massive chest.

"In the meantime, we watch. We wait. Keep the PPD roped in, maybe a national three letter agency, make sure there are eyes on those targets. Just in case." Crossroads says grimly.

There's a beat of heavy silence as his words sink in. I feel a shiver go down my spine, a sense of foreboding settling in my gut.

"What about me?" I blurt out, unable to keep quiet any longer. "What should I do?"

All eyes turn to me, and I feel a flush creeping up my neck. Maybe I should have just kept my mouth shut.

"And what about Richardson?" Captain Plasma asks. "Do we just pretend everything's normal while we investigate her?"

Davis nods slowly. "For now, yes. We can't afford to tip her off. We'll maintain the appearance of normal relations, maybe even increase our public interactions with her office. Make her think she's in the clear. In the meantime, I think it's best if we keep this information closely held. The last thing we need is for word to get out and cause a panic."

"Agreed," Multiplex says, his duplicates nodding in unison. "This stays in this room, at least until we have a better handle on what we're dealing with."

There's a murmur of assent from around the table, everyone looking grim but determined.

"So what now?" I ask, my voice sounding small even to my own ears. "What do you need me - us - to do?"

Multiplex exchanges a look with Davis, then turns to me. "For now, we need you to keep your eyes and ears open. Report anything suspicious, no matter how small it might seem. But no more unauthorized missions, understand? Everything goes through us from now on."

I nod, like a liar, relieved and disappointed in equal measure.

"We'll be in touch with more specific instructions soon," Davis adds, directly to me. "In the meantime, try to act normal. Go to school, patrol with your team, live your life. The last thing we need is for the Kingdom to realize we're onto them. More than they might already know, at least."

I nod again, feeling the weight of responsibility settling heavy on my shoulders. I find myself drifting towards the exit. My mind is reeling, trying to process everything that's just happened.

"Alright," Davis says, clapping his hands together. "I think that's all we can do for now. Let's adjourn for the day, but keep the lines of communication open. If anything new comes up, no matter how small, I want to hear about it."