The sky's been crying all day, like it knows something I don't. I've been cooped up with homework and training during the day and so much other stuff, feeling like a dog on a short leash. Exhausted. Run ragged. But tonight, I finally get to stretch my legs. It's around 8 PM when I slip out, pulling my hood up against the relentless drizzle. The air's got that winter bite, making my breath fog up in front of me.

It's the night before Hannukkah, and here I am, tailing… stalking my mentor. Stalking them. Keeping watch for threats, I tell myself. Making sure she doesn't collapse in a coughing fit in the middle of the street, I tell myself.

I pick up Belle's trail easily enough. It's like my blood sense has gotten sharper with practice, or maybe it's just that her signal's getting stronger for me. The thought sends a shiver down my spine that's got nothing to do with the cold. I keep a safe distance, blending in with the few people braving the weather. Everyone's in their own little world, huddled under umbrellas or hurrying to get home. I can smell distinctly fewer blood signatures today, and a lot of them in the storm drains, as the rain washes away the particles.

Belle's heading to Southeast Philly. It's not her usual haunt, which piques my curiosity. My mind races with possibilities. Is she meeting someone? Picking up more mysterious boxes? I never did find out what was in there - maybe it was just a microwave. Or something. My hands are restless in my pockets, fingers tapping against my phone.

The clinic she enters is one of those private healthcare places. Fancy, with a name that's probably supposed to sound reassuring but just ends up sounding dystopian - New Horizons Oncology. I make a mental note to look that up. I don't dare get too close, so I find a spot across the street, under an awning that does a decent job of keeping the worst of the rain off.

I watch the clinic's entrance, the light spilling out onto the wet sidewalk. It's quiet, save for the occasional car swishing by on the rain-slicked road. I try to guess what she's doing in there. More chemo, maybe? Or getting some new kind of treatment? I wish I could just march in there and ask, but I know better. Belle's got her pride, and I've got my promise to keep - to stay out of her way.

So I wait, shuffling my feet to keep warm, my eyes fixed on the clinic. Every time someone comes out, my heart kicks up a notch, but it's never her. I'm getting impatient, fidgety. I pull out my notebook, the pages now a bit crinkled from being stuffed in my backpack. I scribble a few notes, more to keep my hands busy than anything else.

I glance at my phone again, the screen a dim glow in the dark. Time's dragging its feet, and I'm starting to worry. Is she okay in there? What if something's gone wrong? Then, I tell myself otherwise. It's a doctor's office. What's the worst that could happen in a doctor's office?

I immediately regret asking the question to myself. I take a deep breath and squeeze my hands, glancing back and forth from my phone to the entrance, particularly when I catch movement in my periphery. I'm so caught up in my own thoughts that I almost miss it. The clinic door opens, and there she is. Liberty Belle steps out, pausing under the awning. She's looking around, like she's searching for something. Or someone. My heart stutters. Does she know I'm here?

I duck behind a parked car, heart hammering in my chest. This is it, she's going to see me. But then she just starts walking, heading down the street with that same steady pace. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding and follow, keeping to the shadows, keeping a block or so behind her, always around the corner.

I'm still trailing Liberty Belle, my sneakers silently splashing through the shallow puddles. The rain has let up a bit, but the damp coldness sticks to everything, making me feel chilled to the bone. Belle's pace remains steady and unchanged. I make sure to keep a safe distance, always a block or so behind, peeking around corners before continuing on. She's leading us deeper into Southeast Philadelphia, and I'm so focused on not losing her that I hardly notice the scenery transforming.

The streets grow quieter, the lively buzz of the city fading into a distant hum. There are fewer streetlights, casting long, eerie shadows. The further we go, the more I realize we're heading towards the waterfront. The salty smell of the river mixes with the city's grime in the air. I haven't seen another person in the last few minutes, and a nagging feeling starts gnawing at me. It's too desolate, too quiet. It's as if the world is holding its breath.

And then it comes into view - the pier. It stretches out into the river, a dark shape against the murky water. Belle's figure stands out in the dim light, her shadow cast like a fishing line in front of her from the lights. She reaches the end of the pier and lingers there, gazing out over the water. I stay back, taking cover behind a stack of shipping crates, my heart pounding rapidly.

It dawns on me too late that I've been too focused on following her. Now it's painfully obvious - I'm the only other person around. In this open space, my presence is about as subtle as a flashing neon sign. I mutter curses under my breath, scolding myself for being so fixated.

Then, without any warning, Belle turns around. She doesn't seem surprised; it's more like… resignation? As if she's been expecting this encounter. Our eyes meet across the distance, and I'm completely motionless, caught in the act. From here, I'm sure she sees me as a threat of some kind - a crazy fangirl, or a possible villain looking to get the drop on her in her civvies. I can feel the… it's not exactly malice, but I can feel the willpower emanating off of her in waves, the way her stance gets taller and stronger as she walks. Forcing herself awake.

She starts making her way towards me, her steps deliberate and slow. I stand up, stepping out from my hiding spot. There's no point in pretending anymore. I'm not sure what to say, or if I should say anything at all. The gap between us closes, and I brace myself, arms raised up in surrender. She's close now, close enough to converse. But for a moment, she simply looks at me, her expression impossible to decipher. Then, at last, she speaks, her voice ringing clear in the quiet night.

"Sam?" She asks.

The rain begins to slow down. She starts laughing.

Unable to do anything else about it, I laugh along with her.

Belle's laughter cuts through the tension like a knife through butter, and I can't help but join in, even though my laugh is more of a nervous giggle. The absurdity of the situation hits me - here I am, caught spying on one of the most formidable heroes in Philly, and she's… laughing.

"I can't believe it's you, Sam," Belle says between chuckles. "I knew someone was tailing me, but I never guessed it was my own protégé. You've gotten good at this, haven't you?" Her eyes are twinkling with amusement, and I feel a mix of pride and embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, I've had a good teacher," I reply, trying to play it cool but my voice cracks a bit. "I didn't mean to… I mean, I was just worried about you. You've been going to some pretty strange places lately."

Belle wipes a stray raindrop from her cheek, her smile softening. "I appreciate your concern, Sam, but you know, a little trust goes a long way." She teases me gently, but there's a serious undertone to her words.

"I do trust you, Belle. It's just… everything that's happening, with Chernobyl and your… you know, health stuff." I can feel my throat tighten as I mention her condition. "I guess I just wanted to make sure you're okay."

She sighs, her gaze drifting back to the river for a moment. "I know, kiddo. And I'm touched, really. But you can't be putting yourself at risk like this. Following someone to places like this," she gestures at the empty pier, "it's not safe in these jawns. You let yourself get pulled out of position. You should've either hunkered down or called it quits."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

I shuffle my feet, feeling like a kid who's just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. "I just… I don't know, I felt like I had to do something. I can't just sit around and wait for things to happen."

Belle steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "You're doing plenty, Sam. Training, school, being a superhero - it's a lot for anyone, let alone someone your age. You don't have to carry the world on your shoulders. That's what the adults are for."

I open my mouth, then close it, unsure of what to say. The truth is complicated. It's concern, it's curiosity, it's… more than that. It's about not wanting to be left in the dark while someone I care about is walking into something dangerous. My entire body slumps.

Before I can find the words, she continues, her voice softer now. "You know, if you wanted to spend time together, you could have just asked. No need for all the cloak and dagger."

I laugh, a short, nervous sound. "Guess I didn't think of that. I guess if I'm found out now, can I ask you a question?"

She smiles and reaches under my hood to brush some hair out of place. "Shoot."

"What are you doing at that abandoned refinery?"

Her face immediately distorts like she's about to sneeze. Then, I see the look in her eyes. The look of someone watching someone die, the same face I made. A million things race through her vacant stare, and all the friendliness disappears from her, instantly. All the softness, gone in a breath.

Belle's expression shifts, the softness draining away as if a storm cloud has just rolled over her face. She stands back, her posture rigid, the anger in her voice barely contained. "The PES oil refinery? Do you have any idea what that place means? What happened there?" Her words come out like bullets.

I take a step back, feeling the weight of her anger like a shockwave. "The explosion?" I guess meekly, trying to avoid making the situation worse. "In 2018?"

"The ex-… No!" Belle almost snarls the word, a harsh rejection. "You think this is some kind of game, Sam? That refinery is where Franklin died. Where I nearly…" She cuts herself off, clenching her fists. "It's not a place for games. It's dangerous, and if Chernobyl returns there, it's going to be a warzone. That neighborhood's had too many close calls already. One more and developers are going to just start leveling the place."

I feel a surge of frustration, meeting her anger with my own. I don't like the feeling of heat growing in my ears. "So, what? You're just going to face him alone? That's your plan? You think you can take him down by yourself? It's abandoned, what would he even want with the place, anyway?"

"It's not your concern, Samantha!" Belle's voice rises, echoing off the empty pier. "You're a kid. You should be worrying about school, about your friends, about your training, not stalking me to an exploded refinery! And- He'll. He- I know he'll be there. And that's why you need to stay away!"

"But I can help!" I protest, my own anger flaring up. "I'm not just some kid, I'm a part of this too. I have powers, I've been training. You can't just expect me to sit back and do nothing!"

"This isn't about your powers or your training!" Belle shouts, stepping closer to me, her eyes blazing. "This is about you being safe. You've already got the Kingdom after you, for fuck's sake. I can't - I won't have you walking into a death trap."

I'm undeterred, standing my ground. My nails dig into my palms. "I'm not going to let you walk into one either! I can't just watch someone I care about put themselves in danger and do nothing!"

Belle's face hardens, her anger morphing into something cold and steely. "You think you're invincible, don't you? You think because you can take a hit, you can handle anything. But you're small, Sam. Vulnerable. I've seen what Chernobyl can do, the destruction he leaves in his wake. I know what he did to me. I've served my time! You're just a kid. I won't let you suffer what I've suffered. You can't be a part of this."

Her words sting, but I refuse to back down. "I'm not invincible, but neither are you! You're going in there with a death wish, and I can't - I won't let you do it alone!"

For a moment, we just stand there, the tension between us crackling like a live wire. The rain has almost stopped, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. But beneath that silence, there's a current of fear, of worry, of desperation. Neither of us wants to admit it, but it's there, as real and as raw as the anger in our voices.

Finally, Belle takes a deep breath, her anger ebbing away as suddenly as it had come. She looks tired, the lines on her face more pronounced in the dim light. "This isn't up for discussion, Samantha. I need you to promise me - promise me you'll stay away from the refinery. Promise me you'll stay safe. This isn't me speaking as a superior officer or whatever. This is… This is me, Diane. Diane speaking. You need to stay away."

Her voice is softer now, but the edge is still there, a warning that she's not going to budge on this. How can I promise something like that? How can I just stand by and do nothing? I don't like this feeling. I don't like feeling angry at her, feeling angry in general. This isn't exciting. It's not fun. The adrenaline isn't the good kind - this is the kind that makes me feel like I've swallowed poison. Despite her stony face, her heartbeat is thrumming, rolling along like a marching drum. "Please," she repeats.

"I promise," I lie.

----------------------------------------

Lily's rowhome on Almond Street is so cozy, almost like a cocoon, compared to the freezing cold outside. The first floor is a bit cramped, like a puzzle with all the furniture and stuff somehow fitting perfectly. Frost patterns crawl on the windows like naturally-formed artwork, making it hard to see the street through their icy designs.

In the little kitchenette, the counters are cluttered with the usual stuff - a toaster, a coffee maker, and a bunch of jars and bottles of this and that. Among all this everyday mess, we've set up our makeshift Hanukkah display. After her school let out, Lily went out and grabbed a cheap menorah from a thrift store, and it's sitting on a sheet of foil to catch the dripping wax, as per my instructions. It's not exactly the best looking menorah in the world, but it has its own charm. It's simple and plain, unadorned ceramic with metal candle-holders still crusted over with the remains of some other family's celebrations.

I can see Lily's curiosity as she looks at the menorah, her head slightly tilted. "So, how does this work? What's the deal with Hanukkah?" she asks with genuine interest.

I smile, finding some comfort in sharing this part of my heritage. "Well, Hanukkah, or Chanukah, is the Festival of Lights. It's about celebrating the rededication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem and the miracle of the oil," I begin, lighting the shamesh - the helper candle.

"The miracle?" Lily prompts, watching as I light the first candle on the far right with the shamesh. I use the flame of the shamesh to melt the bottom of the first candle, so it'll stick in its holder more tightly, and then do the same with that candle to the shamesh. An old wax trick Pop-Pop Moe taught me as soon as I was old enough to handle a lighter.

"Yeah, so the story goes that there was only enough oil to keep the candles in the Temple lit for one day. But miraculously, it burned for eight days, which was the time needed to prepare more oil," I explain, placing the shamesh back in its spot. "So we eat a lot of fried foods. Like donuts. And potato pancakes."

Lily nods, her eyes following the flickering flames of the candles. "And why do you light the candles?"

"We light the candles to remember and celebrate the miracle. Each night, we add one more candle than the night before. Tonight, being the first night, we just light one, plus the shamesh. By the eighth night, all the candles will be lit." I point to the menorah, the single candle glowing warmly next to the shamesh.

In the little kitchen, which feels ancient and important all of a sudden, the glow from the menorah casts gentle shadows, dancing on Lily's face, making the moment feel sacred.

"So, it's like a reminder that even in the darkest times, there's always a chance for a tiny bit of light to shine way longer than you'd expect," Lily murmurs, still fixated on the candles. "Or something."

I nod, feeling her words in my chest. After all that's happened with Belle, the fear and uncertainty, this simple tradition feels like a lifeline, a wire tossed to me to hang onto over the cliff's edge. "Exactly. It's about finding hope and light in the darkest of times, when you least expect it."

We stand there for a few more moments, just watching the candles burn. Slowly, they drip, drip, drip. "Oh, I got you a present!" I say after about a minute of silence, remembering that I did that.

"Oh?" Lily asks.

I turn around to face the futon, snatching my backpack off the mattress and beginning to rummage through it. "I don't know if it's actually a good idea with your powers, but I got you some Heelies off EBay." I say, grinning. I do not tell Lily how I know her shoe size, instead simply offering the wheeled shoes to her with both hands like I'm giving tribute to a king.

"Oh, Sam! That's so cool! I. Do I need to have a present for you?" She asks, blinking at me absentmindedly.

"Honestly, just having a place to stay this long is enough. But, I mean, if you want to, it's traditional to get someone a tiny little tzotchke every day of Hannukkah. So you can just double up tomorrow, if you really want," I reply, trying to take care not to overstep my boundaries.

"A tzotchke?" Lily asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You know, like, a little trinket. A knickknack. Dollar store stuff," I answer.

Lily nods at me vigorously, accepting the shoes and bowing. "I will get you something of equal value to these wheeled shoes!" she declares confidently, the candles lighting her face in an effervescent glow.

Then, both of our pagers go off at the same time, clattering against the countertop.

The signal.

Chernobyl is here.