The music hall is quieter than usual when I walk in, which makes sense--it's the middle of the day, and none of us are supposed to be here. I had to promise my parents I'd keep my location tracker on and wouldn't even think about putting on my mask, and they still almost didn't let me come. Mom made me swear on Mom-Mom's grave that I wouldn't do anything "reckless" until further notice. Which, fine. I guess they deserve that much after last night. Doesn't mean I have to like it.

The hall itself smells like wood polish and dust, like it's trying to remember the days when it hosted actual music instead of a bunch of teenage vigilantes with bad sleep schedules and worse judgment. Tasha's perched on one of the old couches with her laptop, headphones on, completely tuned out. Lily's sprawled on the floor doing some kind of stretches that look like they're one step away from yoga. Amelia's leaning against the counter near the kitchenette, arms crossed and looking like she's already over whatever's about to happen.

And then there's Jordan, sitting cross-legged on top of the ping-pong table, grinning like they've just won the lottery.

"Well, well, well," Jordan says, drawing the words out like they're savoring them. "If it isn't our fearless leader, fresh from her brush with the law."

I roll my eyes. "Don't start."

"Oh, I'm starting," they say, hopping down from the table with an exaggerated bow. "Ladies and gentlemen--oh wait, it's just us ladies and me--let's all give a big round of applause to Samantha Small, defender of the innocent, breaker of minor ordinances, and recent graduate of Police Holding Cell 101!"

Lily claps enthusiastically from the floor. Amelia doesn't bother, but I catch the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth, which is basically a standing ovation coming from her.

"Thanks," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. "Really appreciate the support."

Maggie's voice crackles from the phone in my pocket. "Hey, I'd clap too if I wasn't stuck at home. Turbo grounded, remember?"

"Right," I say, pulling the phone out and putting it on speaker so she doesn't feel completely left out. "Everyone say hi to Maggie."

"Hi, Maggie," they all say in unison, except Tasha, who just waves without looking up from her laptop.

"Hi, guys," Maggie chirps. "Hope you're having fun without me."

"We're not," I say quickly, glaring at Jordan when they open their mouth to argue. "Anyway, let's get this over with. What's the big deal?"

Jordan crosses their arms, looking way too pleased with themselves. "First of all, I'd like to announce that I am officially done with all my assignments and finals for the year."

"It's April," I say flatly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

They shrug, their grin turning almost sheepish. Like they weren't expecting anyone to actually question that. "I, uh, kind of... got permission to finish everything early?"

"You what?" Maggie yells through the phone, her voice distorted by the speaker. "How is that even possible?"

"Because you're a huge nerd," I snipe. "And a teacher's pet."

"J'accuse!" Jordan scoffs. "Moi?"

"That's not how you use that," Tasha yells, just loud enough to be heard.

"Anyway, I told them that I had MIT stuff I needed to focus on, which is not a total lie," Jordan explains, not looking anyone in the eye.

Amelia snorts. "Of course you did."

"Anyway," Jordan says, waving off the teasing, "the point is, I'm free to focus on important stuff now. Like planning revenge, and keeping all of you out of jail."

"Wow, thanks," I say, pretending to be offended. "Really inspiring vote of confidence there."

"Do the rest of you guys even have time to do your homework?" Tasha asks.

"We manage," Maggie crackles.

"Oh, you're welcome," Jordan shoots back to me. "So. How'd your little adventure go last night? I heard there was drugs involved?"

I groan, flopping onto the couch next to Tasha, who finally pulls off her headphones to join the conversation wholeheartedly. "Yeah, about that. Bash--this big guy who was definitely not on Jump--used some kind of drug mid-fight and basically turned into a walking tank. Like, went from "strong" to "crazy" instantly."

Jordan frowns, leaning forward. "What kind of syringe?"

"Black," I say, trying to remember the details. "Sleek, professional-looking. Like something you'd see in a hospital, not, you know, on the street."

"That doesn't sound like Fly," Tasha says, typing something into her laptop. "Fly's a mess. I think you get it out of a vial or out of like... scavenged, refilled epipens."

"Exactly," I say, nodding. "These were like... manufactured and shit. No label. Not that I got a good look at it, I think the police scooped the thing up."

"Any idea who they were working for?" Amelia asks, her tone skeptical.

"Not directly," I admit. "But it's gotta be connected to the Kingdom somehow, or Rogue Wave. There's no way something like that isn't part of a bigger plan."

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Jordan rubs their chin, their eyes narrowing in thought. "Okay. So we've got a new drug--or enhancement, or whatever--that's not Jump, but it's showing up on the same streets. And the cops aren't charging you, but they're definitely keeping an eye on us. Anything else?"

"Yeah," I say, holding up my phone. "This. My parents made me promise to keep my location tracker on, and they're watching it like hawks. No patrols for me anytime soon, or so they say."

"Lucky," Maggie mutters through the phone. "At least you got to leave the house."

"Barely," I shoot back. "You're not missing much."

Jordan claps their hands together, breaking the tension. "Alright, so here's the deal. First of all, Derek's still out of commission for our purposes. Daytime's a no-go because of the vigilante laws, and nighttime's a no-go because werewolf. Not factoring him into our plans. while you were off playing cop last night, I was getting things in order. First of all, I'm transferring the lease on this place to you."

"What?" I blink, completely caught off guard. "Why?"

"Because I'm leaving in a couple of months," Jordan says simply. "I'm going to MIT, remember? And someone's gotta take care of the music hall."

"But... you can't just hand it over to me," I say, floundering. "I don't know anything about managing a building."

"Relax," they say, waving a hand. "It's not like I've been running a real business here. Just keep the lights on and don't let it fall apart. The guy who owns the property will talk to you about it in like July. You'll be fine."

I don't have time to argue, because Maggie's voice cuts in from the phone. "Wait, back up. MIT? Like, the UK?"

"No, the one in Nevada," Jordan says dryly. "Loser."

"Rude," Maggie mutters.

"Focus," I say, holding up a hand. "We're not done talking about this. What's the plan?"

Jordan's grin turns sharp, and for the first time since I walked in, I feel a flicker of unease. "Funny you should ask," they say, pulling out a folded piece of paper from their jacket.

The music hall feels a little too quiet as Jordan unfolds the piece of paper they've been holding like it's a map to buried treasure. Maggie's still chirping through the phone on speaker, but even she quiets down as Jordan lays the paper on the ping-pong table. I step closer, my curiosity overpowering my lingering annoyance at how smug they've been acting.

"This," Jordan says, tapping the paper, "is our next move."

I glance at the paper. It's a map of Philadelphia, one of those touristy ones with little drawings of landmarks. Jordan's scribbled all over it with a black Sharpie--circles, arrows, and what I'm pretty sure is a crude doodle of a smoke cloud with an angry face.

"What are we looking at?" I ask, trying to make sense of it.

"A private marina in Pennsport," Jordan says, pointing to one of the circles. "It's one of several spots where Jump is being funneled into the city. According to our source, next weekend, there's going to be a major delivery. Like, a huge one. Think sweepstakes-level."

"Source?" Amelia cuts in, her arms crossed tightly. "What source?"

Jordan's grin falters for a split second. "Soot."

The room goes dead quiet. Even Maggie, who's still stuck at home, doesn't say anything. I can feel the tension spike like someone just plugged the air into an electric socket.

"You've got to be kidding me," Amelia says finally, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You're taking intel from Soot? The same Soot who--"

"Who has been more effective at gathering intel on this drug war than we have?" Jordan interrupts, their tone calm but firm. "Yeah. That Soot."

Amelia looks like she's about to explode, but Jordan doesn't give her the chance. "Before you start," they say quickly, "let me explain. Last night, while you and Lily were... hanging back--"

"Assuming you were fighting," Lily mutters.

"--I was talking to Soot. And, yes, they're rough around the edges, but they're not wrong about this. They showed me videos. Multiple dealers, multiple interrogations, all saying the same thing. Pennsport's marina is going to be packed next weekend. Jump's coming in like it's Black Friday, and every dealer in the city is invited."

Amelia's jaw tightens. "And how, exactly, did Soot get this information?"

Jordan hesitates, which is not a great sign. "Let's just say... Soot has their methods."

"That's not an answer," Amelia snaps.

"It's not relevant," Jordan says sharply, their calm cracking for just a moment. "Look, I get it. Soot's not exactly a paragon of virtue. But we're not in a position to be picky about where our intel comes from. They're right about this. I'm sure of it."

"How can you be sure?" I ask, though my voice is less accusatory and more curious. Jordan's usually more careful about this kind of thing.

"They showed me the videos," Jordan says simply. "Different people, different times, all saying the same thing. Either Soot somehow managed to stage an elaborate conspiracy just to mess with us, or this is real. And I don't think they'd go to that much trouble."

I glance at Amelia, whose expression has shifted from anger to something more cautious. She still doesn't look convinced, but she's not arguing anymore.

"Okay," I say, stepping in before things can derail again. "Let's assume Soot's right. What's the plan?"

Jordan's grin returns, but it's not the smug one from earlier. This one's sharper, more determined. "We're going to the marina," they say. "While the cops are busy rounding up street-level guys, we're going to slip in, stay out of sight, and see what we can find. Best-case scenario, we get some solid intel on who's behind this whole operation, we finally get some fucking info on Rogue Wave. Worst-case scenario, we disrupt their plans enough to make a dent, maybe sink someone's boat or two. Because fuck yachters."

"And by 'stay out of sight,' you mean what, exactly?" Lily asks, tilting her head. "Because we're not exactly subtle."

Jordan shrugs. "That's what this week is for. We've got time to prep, fix up our costumes, work out the logistics. If we do this right, nobody even knows we were there."

"And if we do it wrong?" Amelia asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Then we improvise," Jordan says, like it's the easiest thing in the world.

Maggie's voice cuts through the tension. "I can't believe I'm missing this."

"You're grounded," I remind her.

"You're grounded too!" she yells.

"Yes, but I'm better at lying to my parents," I say, only feeling a twinge of guilt. "Besides. A week is enough time for them to forgive me, I think."

"Stupid Irish Catholics," Maggie mumbles.

"What about the cops?" I ask, focusing back on Jordan. "They're going to be all over this. If we get caught..."

"We won't," Jordan says firmly. "We're not sticking around for the takedown. Our goal is information. Get in, get what we need, and get out before anyone even knows we were there."

Amelia still looks skeptical, but she doesn't argue. Lily, meanwhile, looks almost excited, like she's ready to jump into action right now. She's practically vibrating.

"Alright," I say finally, my mind already racing with possibilities.

I do feel bad, part of me, for what I'm about to do. For worrying my parents like this. I feel like I'm letting them down. Lying to them. I feel guilt. I feel shame and upset. But I think about letting these guys get away with ruining this city and that makes me feel even worse.

I don't think I could live with myself if I don't do this. If Jordan goes on their own and something happens, or even just the team needs me and I'm not there. If I could fix something and I'm not there. If I could save a life. I want to stay in, accept my grounding, and not engage in all this slinking around... but I can't not do anything.

I mean it. I can't. I mean... I... can't. I should stop myself, but I can't. Even if I wanted to.

"Let's do it," I breathe out, not realizing I was holding my breath.

"On three, kids; "Fuck Rogue Wave", ready?" Jordan starts, sticking a hand over the coffee table.