You know, I really thought Tasha was onto something when she jokingly suggested we get a maid service for the Music Hall's common area. But no, Jordan just had to insist on doing it themselves, like some sort of bizarro Martha Stewart who's never met a trash bag they couldn't overstuff. Unsurprisingly, the place is back to its usual state of carefully curated chaos barely twenty-four hours after Ms. Katz's little inspection. I guess old habits die hard.

It's a chilly Saturday afternoon, and the six of us are all lounging around on the mismatched assortment of couches and armchairs, picking at the remnants of a pizza feast that would make the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles proud. Even though it's only two weeks until Thanksgiving, the weather outside is more reminiscent of mid-January, with fat flakes of snow blanketing the city in a picturesque but treacherous coat of white.

"Man, I still can't believe Maya Richardson actually won that special election," Jordan muses around a mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. "Like, Like, what the hell does she think she's going to accomplish as a city councilperson? Start commissioning freak snowstorms at random just to be a passive-aggressive dick to us?"

Derek lets out a snort of derision from where he's slouched in an overstuffed recliner, absently toying with the bright orange tips of his shaggy hair. "Get real, kid - you really think a bitter old lady gives enough of a shit bout a couple teenage troublemakers to abuse her powers like that? She's got way bigger fish to fry."

Popping the last bite of my slice into my mouth, I cast a sidelong glance at Jordan. "Yeah, I mean, Richardson's whole deal lately has been courting the public eye through big, showy philanthropy stuff. Why would she suddenly jeopardize all that goodwill and publicity by using her powers for petty revenge against a bunch of randos?"

"Because she's a supervillain?" Maggie chimes in hesitantly from her perch on the floor. "I'm sorry, but weren't we all there when she teamed up with freaking Mr. T-Rex to trash Sam's house like a year ago? That seems pretty vengeful and villainous to me!"

"Actually, only Jordan was there, and I made them leave anyway," I point out. "And my parents, I mean. Them too."

Jordan sort of purses their lips at me. "Yeah, get me out of harms way so you can get your legs broken by a fucking dinosaur without letting me protect you."

"Aw, it does have a heart," I joke. Jordan shoots me a withering glare, so I stick my tongue out between my teeth and wiggle it around a little bit in the gaps that the points make until Jordan recoils. "Some supervillain you turned out to be,"

"You're disgusting," Jordan says, scowling at me like if they do it hard enough they'll gain laser vision or some shit. "Don't you ever close your mouth?"

"Nice one," Derek says, rolling his eyes. "You're supposed to put pizza in it, not play with your tongue. I thought you were supposed to be high." He turns to address Jordan directly though, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously, you have weed and you didn't even share?"

Jordan holds up their hands in a placating gesture, a shit-eating grin spreading across their face. "Hey, don't get mad at me for trying to preserve my precious stash. You know how much harder it is to re-up when the whole city's turned into a snow globe?"

Tasha, who's been quietly tapping away at her laptop this whole time, suddenly pipes up from her spot curled into the corner of the sofa. "Okay, so I just did some digging on our dear Councilperson Richardson, and it turns out she actually represents District 7. Which includes, drum roll please... Mayfair and Tacony!"

A collective groan rises up from the assembled group at this revelation. Jordan throws their hands up in exasperation. "Oh, well that's just fan-fucking-tastic! So not only is she a supervillain with a grudge, but now she's literally our own personal representative in city government? Talk about a conflict of interest!"

I frown, trying to wrap my head around the implications. "But like, how much power does a city councilperson really have? It's not like she's the mayor or anything. Maybe we're overthinking this whole thing?"

Connor, who's been characteristically quiet up until now, suddenly leans forward with a quizzical expression. "Wait, I'm confused - why exactly are we supposed to be worried about this lady again? I mean, yeah, she's got weather powers and a seat on the city council, but so what? It's not like she can just start throwing lightning bolts around willy-nilly without people noticing."

Tasha sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "No, but she could potentially use her position to make life difficult for us in more subtle ways. Like, I dunno, pushing for stricter regulations on superhero activities, or funneling city resources away from our neighborhood. That kind of thing."

Derek scratches at the stubble on his jaw, looking thoughtful. "Still, it seems like a lot of trouble to go through just to fuck with a bunch of teenagers. I mean, what's her endgame here? It's not like any of us have enough clout to really threaten her political career or anything."

"Maybe it's not about us specifically," I muse, chewing on my lower lip. "Maybe we're just collateral damage in some larger scheme she's got going on. Like, I dunno, consolidating power for the Kingdom or something?"

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Jordan snaps their fingers, eyes lighting up. "Oh shit, that's a good point! We still don't really know what the Kingdom's deal is, or what their ultimate goals are. Maybe Richardson's election is just one piece of a bigger puzzle we haven't put together yet."

"If our little powwow with Mrs. Xenograft earlier means anything," I say, glancing towards Tasha, making eye contact with her, "it's probably just money. You know, like any good Mafia."

Tasha nods, already typing away furiously on her laptop again. "Okay, let me see what else I can dig up on her background. Gimme a sec..."

The room lapses into a tense silence as we all wait for Tasha to work her internet sleuthing magic. After a few minutes, she lets out a low whistle. "Well, well, well...look what we have here."

"Spill," I say, only half a demand. Even Maggie leans in, interested to hear.

"Turns out our friend Ms. Richardson used to be a superhero herself, back in the day. Went by the name 'Stormrise' and everything. But she quit the game in 2012, right around the time a bunch of really strict regulations on weather control powers got passed."

"I knew that somewhere," I reply, furrowing my brow, scrunching all the skin up. "But I can't remember where. Someone mentioned that."

Jordan's brow furrows in confusion. "Weather control regulations? The fuck are you talking about?"

"Yeah, apparently there was this whole big thing where the government cracked down hard on any supers with abilities that could potentially affect the environment on a large scale. Something about not wanting them to accidentally fuck up global weather patterns or cause natural disasters, I guess," Tasha explains. "Really heavy,"

Derek lets out a low whistle. "Damn, that's some heavy shit. No wonder she quit."

I lean over Tasha's shoulder to get a better look at her screen, scanning the dense wall of text detailing the various restrictions and requirements. "Holy crap, this is insane! If you want to legally use weather manipulation powers, you need a freaking master's degree in a relevant scientific field, government approval for every single proposed 'weather event', sixty days of community input...and the fines for violations are huge! Like, five years suspended license and a million bucks?! And that's only for- Christ, they don't call it 'criminal violations', they call it "civil violations!"

Connor lets out a sharp bark of laughter tinged with disbelief. "That ain't regulations, that's a goddamn soft ban. Sure sounds like they wanted to make it pretty much fuckin' impossible for anyone to actually jump through all those hoops. I mean, how many people ever actually get their proposals approved? How many weather-based heroes actually have advanced degrees anyway?"

"Looks like maybe twenty per year on average, according to this?" Tasha says, squinting at some figures on the webpage. "And almost all of those are for hurricane or drought relief efforts. So yeah, not a lot of room for anything else."

"So basically, they regulated her right out of the superhero game," Jordan summarizes, leaning back with a grimace. "That's so fucked up. No wonder she turned to a life of crime instead."

"Still seems like a pretty drastic pivot though," Maggie points out hesitantly. "I mean, going from beloved hero to straight up supervillain? That's quite the heel turn."

"I guess being told you're illegal after years of service and praise would piss anyone off," Maggie says.

A lightbulb suddenly goes off in my head as a thought occurs to me. "Hey, you don't think...could Richardson be the reason it's fucking snowing ash right now? Like, some kinda 'fuck you' to the system that forced her out?"

"Or to bother some annoying teenagers," Jordan chimes in, clearly not taking my proposal seriously.

Derek rubs his chin, considering it. "Eh, maybe. But it's not like the weather's been normal in general lately. Global warming has been making everything go kinda haywire, even without bitchy supervillains throwing magical tantrums."

Connor looks utterly baffled by this entire conversation. "Wait, I don't get it - I thought you said she hasn't used her powers in public since she quit being a hero in 2012? How would she even pull something like that off without anyone noticing? And why would global warming make it snow in November?"

Jordan rolls their eyes, shooting Connor an exasperated look. "The woman's a fucking supervillain, dude - they're not exactly known for playing by the rules. I'm sure she's got her ways."

"I'll explain the global warming thing later, Connor," Tasha says, shooting him a supportive thumbs up.

I flop back against the cushions with a heavy sigh, my mind racing with all these new revelations and theories. Just when I think I'm starting to get a handle on the bigger picture, some new wrinkle always seems to pop up and complicate everything. It's like trying to put together a puzzle when half the pieces are missing and the other half don't even fit together right.

As I lay there wondering, I can't help but turn to Connor, the cogs in my head working in overdrive trying to piece it all together. "By the way, how did things go with your new foster parents the other day?" I ask, trying to change the subject to something a little less... well, less of a moral quagmire.

Connor perks up at this, his face brightening into a small smile - a rare sight. "It was actually pretty great," he replies, sounding almost surprised at his own admission. "Mary and Steve, they're called. They seem like really nice people. Mary's a social worker, and Steve's a high school teacher. They've got this cozy little place in the suburbs, with a spare room all set up for me and everything."

Jordan raises an eyebrow, looking faintly impressed. "Damn, sounds like you hit the jackpot there, Stretch. Suburban respectability is a far cry from, well...all this." They wave a hand vaguely at our surroundings.

The corners of his mouth twitch upward in a half-smile. "Yeah, I mean...don't get me wrong, I'm gonna miss you assholes something fierce. But it'll be kinda nice to have some actual adults looking out for me for a change, y'know? Making sure I'm eating real food and going to school and shit."

I chuck a wadded up napkin at him playfully. "Aw, you're not gonna go too soft on us out there, are you? Don't forget, once a miscreant, always a miscreant."

He laughs, batting the projectile away easily. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Gotta keep my street cred intact. Can't let the 'burbs turn me into a total square."

An almost wistful silence descends as we all contemplate this new chapter Connor's life is about to take. It's a little bittersweet, knowing our weird little rag-tag family's about to change shape in such a significant way. But I also find myself feeling genuinely happy for him. The guy deserves some stability and normalcy for once.