The afternoon sun casts long shadows across the streets of Tacony as I make my way to the music hall, my backpack slung over one shoulder. It's a Tuesday, which means I've got a mountain of homework waiting for me, but right now, there are more pressing matters at hand.

I absently adjust the bandages on my face, the soft fabric brushing against the still-healing cuts. The brace around my neck is a constant reminder of my recent brush with death, a souvenir from my encounter with Elias. But I'm alive, and that's what counts.

As I push open the doors to the music hall, the familiar scent of dust and old wood greets me. Jordan is already there, perched on the edge of the stage, their legs dangling over the side. They look up as I approach, a grin spreading across their face.

"Well, well, if it isn't the walking mummy," they tease, eyeing my bandages. "How's the neck?"

I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile. "Still attached, thanks for asking."

I drop my backpack on one of the mismatched chairs and settle into another, the worn cushion sighing beneath my weight. Jordan hops off the stage and saunters over, plopping down beside me.

"So, what's the word? You said you had some news on the power drug front?"

I nod, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees. "Yeah, I had a run-in with one of the users last night. A guy named Elias Franklin."

Jordan's brow furrows, the name clearly not ringing any bells. "Never heard of him. New player?"

"Not exactly," I hedge, trying to figure out how to explain the situation. "He's actually Derek's best friend."

Jordan's eyes widen, their mouth forming a silent 'o' before morphing into a smirk. "Derek? You mean the asshole from group therapy you told me to stalk?"

I balk, my head snapping up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I absolutely did not tell you to stalk Derek."

Jordan leans back, their hands raised in mock surrender. "Hey, you were the one who wanted intel on the guy. I just did my due diligence."

I narrow my eyes, a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling in my gut. "What exactly did you do, Jordan?"

They shrug, a mischievous glint in their eye. "Didn't you watch the USB I gave you? Brother, I scoped out his entire place. He has cages in his basement, man. He's bad news."

I stare at Jordan, my mind reeling. Cages in the basement? What the hell? I mean, I know Derek's a werewolf, but that's just… I don't even know what to think.

"Jordan," I start, my voice strained, "when I asked you to look into Derek, I meant like, a background check. Not a full-on B&E!"

Jordan has the decency to look a little sheepish, but the grin never quite leaves their face. "Hey, I was just being thorough. You can never be too careful with these group therapy types. They're always hiding something."

I can't help but laugh, the absurdity of the situation hitting me all at once. "Well, I guess that explains why he's always so grumpy. I'd be pretty pissed too if I had to sleep in a cage every night."

Jordan's eyes light up, latching onto the potential gossip. "Wait, so you think he's into some kinky shit? Like, furry stuff?"

I shake my head, still chuckling. "No, no, it's not like that. It's…" I pause, realizing I can't exactly spill Derek's secret. "It's complicated. But the point is, he's not a bad guy. Just… dealing with some stuff. But that's not the point." I sit up straighter, my expression sobering. "The point is, Elias was using the power drugs. And from what I saw, they're no joke. We need to find out where they're coming from and who's distributing them, before things get even more out of hand."

Jordan nods, their playful demeanor giving way to something more serious. "Agreed. But where do we start? It's not like these dealers are just gonna advertise on the dark web or something."

I bite my lip, considering our options. "No, but they've gotta be getting the stuff from somewhere. And if we can find out who else might be using, maybe we can trace it back to the source."

Jordan leans back in their chair, their arms crossed over their chest. "Okay, so we need intel. But how do we get it? It's not like we have a ton of contacts in the drug world."

I hesitate, an idea forming in the back of my mind. It's a long shot, but it might be our best bet. "No, but we know someone who does. Someone with a personal stake in all this."

Jordan's eyebrows shoot up, realization dawning. "Derek? You think he'll help us?"

"I don't know," I admit, running a hand through my hair. "But he's our best lead right now. And if his best friend is mixed up in this stuff, he might be willing to work with us. At least, I hope so."

Jordan nods, a glint of determination in their eyes. "Alright, so we talk to Derek. See if he's up for a little team-up. And in the meantime, we keep our ears to the ground, see if we can dig up any other leads."

I feel a spark of excitement ignite in my chest, the familiar thrill of a new challenge. It's daunting, sure, but it's also invigorating. A chance to make a real difference. The kind of chance that would make my parents happy.

As we settle into our usual spots, Jordan leans back in their chair, a pensive look on their face. "So, while you were out playing superhero over the weekend, I had my ear to the ground, trying to get a sense of what's been going on in the neighborhood."

I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh yeah? What'd you hear?"

Jordan sighs, running a hand through their hair. "Not much, but what I did hear wasn't good. There's a lot of talk about these new power drugs. Apparently, they've been popping up all over Tacony and Mayfair. And, like, the rest of Philly, but also where we live. I mean, can you imagine if every two-bit thug suddenly had superpowers? It'd be chaos."

I chew on my lip, considering our options. "We need to find out where these drugs are coming from. Cut off the supply at the source."

Jordan leans forward, a glint of excitement in their eye. "I was thinking, maybe we should hit up some of my old haunts. Shake down a few dealers, see what they know."

I hesitate, the image of Jordan roughing up some low-level drug pusher flashing through my mind. It's tempting, especially given my… staggering reserves of teenage bloodlust, but… "I don't know, Jordan. If we start making too much noise, we might tip off whoever's behind this. We need to be smart about this."

Jordan leans back, smirking. "Samantha Small, not immediately going for physical intimidation at the nearest opportunity? That Elias dude must've given you a crazy concussion. I thought that was your whole thing, Sharky. Bite first, ask questions later."

I roll my eyes, but I can't help but grin. "Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, we need to be careful. These drugs are no joke. Remember when I went out a couple days ago on that call from the Young Defenders?"

"Yeah?" Jordan replies, raising an eyebrow.

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"Dude took two of them. He ended up convulsing so hard that his new super strength broke every bone in his body," I explain, wincing as I recall it.

Jordan winces with me. "Gnarly."

We lapse into a somewhat comfortable silence, sort of half-comfortable, each lost in our own thoughts. After a moment, Jordan speaks up again, their tone casual.

"Oh, by the way, I got a visit from my mom over the weekend."

I look up, surprised. "Really? How'd that go?"

Jordan shrugs, a wry smile tugging at their lips. "About as well as you'd expect. She dumped all my stuff in front of the music hall. Guess I'm officially living here now. I mean, it's been official for months, but, like, officially official. Officially disowned, anyway."

My eyes widen, a mix of sympathy and incredulity washing over me. "Shit, Jordan, I'm sorry. That's rough. I'm going to murder your mom."

"Don't worry about it. I didn't want to start bugging her about it until you got out of the hospital anyway, in case she tried to pull some stunt. Speaking of loose ends, you hear anything about Miasma? I hope that guy's okay. He rocked," Jordan asks, grabbing a bag of Andy Capp's from the table in the center of the conversation… area. Hot fries. Nice.

"Oh, yeah. The murder parts got thrown out because it turned out there wasn't any actual proof. Obviously. I think the case is still ongoing on the breaking and entering though. They kinda don't let you get away with that when it's a government building."

Jordan nods knowingly. "Word."

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

The door to the Tacony Music Hall creaks open, and in steps Derek, his leather jacket and ripped jeans an inappropriate contrast to the faded grandeur of the old theater. He looks around, his lip curling in a sneer.

"This is your base of operations? Looks like a fucking crack den."

I roll my eyes, already regretting my decision to invite him. "Hello to you too, Derek. Thanks for coming."

Derek grunts, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, well, you said it was important. Something about Elias and those superpower drugs."

Jordan perks up at the mention of Elias, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Yeah, Sam told me about your little run-in with him. Sounded intense."

Derek's gaze snaps to Jordan, his brow furrowing. "Who the fuck are you?"

Before Jordan can respond, a lanky figure emerges from the shadows, a goofy grin on his face. "Hey, I'm Spindle! Jordan's boyfriend. And, uh, fellow superhuman, I guess."

Derek stares at Spindle for a moment, then shakes his head. "Great. A fucking circus."

I clear my throat, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Okay, look. We all know why we're here. These power drugs are bad news, and we need to find out where they're coming from."

Derek nods, his expression turning serious. "Agreed. And now that they've dragged Elias into this shit, it's personal."

Jordan leans forward, their eyes wide with excitement. "So, like, what's the deal with you being a werewolf? Can you control it?"

Derek sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "First off, you should not know that. Sam, I trusted you."

"That was your first mistake," I crack, as Jordan leads the world's motleyest crew into the depths of the music hall, where we could sit instead of walking.

"Anyway, kind of. It's not like the movies, where I turn into a fucking monster and start ripping people apart. But it's definitely for everyone's safety that I lock myself up at night."

Spindle pipes up, his face scrunched in confusion. "But, like, do you need a full moon? Or is it just, like, whenever?"

Derek shoots him an exasperated look. "It's every night, genius. After sundown. Which, by the way, is in about three hours. So let's try to wrap this up before I start growing fur and a tail, okay?"

I stifle a laugh, the image of Derek as a fluffy werewolf popping into my head. "Okay, so, back to the drugs. What do we know so far?"

Jordan ticks off on their fingers. "Well, they're showing up all over Philly. Mostly low-level dealers, but there's gotta be a supplier somewhere. Kensington, probably."

Derek nods, his expression thoughtful. "Elias mentioned something about a guy who gave him the drugs. White, bald, boring-looking. Said he had powers. But we live in South Philly."

I frown, the description ringing a faint bell. "That's not much to go on, but it's a start. Maybe we can shake down some of the dealers, see if they know anything."

Derek cracks his knuckles, a feral grin spreading across his face. "Now you're speaking my language, pooch. Let's go crack some skulls."

Jordan holds up a hand, their expression cautious. "Whoa, hold up there, Cujo. We can't just go in guns blazing. We need a plan."

I nod, my mind already racing with possibilities. "Jordan's right. We need to be smart about this. Scope out the dealers, see if we can find a pattern. Maybe even pose as buyers, try to get some intel that way."

Spindle's eyes light up, his hand shooting into the air. "Ooh, can I be a buyer? I've always wanted to go undercover!"

Derek scoffs, rolling his eyes. "Sure, kid. You can be the bait. Just try not to get your ass kicked."

I shake my head, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. "Let's just take it one step at a time, okay? First things first, we need to map out the known dealers. See if we can find any connections."

"I'm gonna second the Kensington idea," Derek says. "Place has been a known shithole full of drugs since before I've been born. Not that it's their fault, but, you know. It's where the heavy stuff is."

Jordan pulls out a map of the city, spreading it across the table with a flourish. "Okay, so here's what we know so far. The drugs are popping up all over the city, but there seems to be a concentration in Kensington and South Philly."

Derek nods, his fingers tracing the streets of Kensington. "Oh, I said it was logical to check there. Don't get me wrong. I have no fucking idea if it's prevalent there, but Kensington's been a hub for heavy drugs for decades. If these power drugs are coming from anywhere, it's probably there."

Spindle leans in, his brow furrowed in concentration. "But what about the users? Have we seen any patterns there?"

I chew on my lip, my mind flashing back to the incident with Elias and Ricochet. "I can ask the rest of the Young Defenders what they've encountered but the two I've fought so far have just been low level criminals. Ricochet was just trying to steal shit, and Elias, well… Not exactly the traditional profile."

Jordan taps their fingers on the table, a look of contemplation on their face. "Like that guy who broke into the NRSA building last week. He was a total nobody before he got his hands on the drugs."

Derek's head snaps up, his eyes narrowing. "The NRSA? You think they could be involved in this?"

"Wait, someone broke into the NSRA office again? Not Miasma?" I ask.

"Who?" Derek asks, shaking his head. "Never mind,"

"Yeah, there was another one. This time they caught him on the way out, though. Dude's mega-fucked. Caught red-handed. Not the point that much, though," Jordan replies.

I shrug, the possibility weighing heavily on my mind. "Either way. It's not out of the question. They've always been interested in superhuman abilities. Who's to say they're not experimenting with ways to create their own?"

Spindle shivers, his lanky frame folding in on itself. "That's a scary thought. The government creating an army of superpowered soldiers. Wasn't there an expose about something about this like two years ago?"

Derek scoffs, leaning back in his chair. "Please. The government can't even balance a budget. You really think they're capable of something like this? That Project Titan stuff is total nonsense. They tried to do MK Ultra for superheroes and it was about as effective."

Jordan smirks, their eyes glinting with mischief. "I don't know, Derek. I'd say MK Ultra was definitely effective at getting you in the most Hot Topic-ass clothes imaginable."

Derek flips them off, but there's no real heat behind it. "Fuck off. I'll have you know this jacket has seen more mosh pits than you've had shits. Big words from someone who wears Demonicas."

I can't help but laugh, the tension in the room easing just a fraction, while I wave both hands at them to get them to settle down. "Okay, okay. Let's stay focused. We need to figure out who's behind this, and fast. Before more people get hurt."

Spindle nods, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "Sam's right. We need to start digging. Talk to our contacts, see if anyone's heard anything."

Derek leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. "I might know a guy in Kensington. Used to run with the Irish mob back in the day. If anyone knows who's pushing these drugs, it's him."

Jordan raises an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across their face. "Look at you, Derek. Putting that criminal past to good use."

Derek rolls his eyes, but there's a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, well, don't get used to it. I'm not here to be your personal snitch. And I'm not a criminal."

"You sure? You definitely look like you had a permanent record back in High School," Jordan teases.

I clear my throat, trying to steer the conversation back on track. "Okay, so Derek talks to his contact in Kensington. Jordan, you and Spindle hit the streets, see if you can drum up any leads. I'll reach out to my sources in the NRSA and the Young Defenders, see if they've heard anything."

As we all nod in agreement, a sense of purpose settles over the room. We may be a ragtag bunch of misfits, but we're united in our goal. To stop Fly, before it destroys everything we hold dear.

Derek stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Alright, if we're done here, I gotta bounce. The moon waits for no man, and all that."

Jordan smirks, shaking their head. "Seriously, dude. You've got to work on your exit lines."

Derek flips them off again, but there's a glint of amusement in his eye. "Whatever. Just try not to get yourselves killed while I'm gone."

And with that, he's out the door, the echo of his footsteps fading into the night.

Spindle turns to Jordan, a goofy grin on his face. "Your friends are weird."

Jordan laughs, slinging an arm around Spindle's shoulders. "Yeah, but they're our kind of weird. Can't believe you found a fucking werewolf."

I just shrug sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head.