Derek and I exchange a look, then crowd around behind Jordan, peering over their shoulder at the screen. It takes me a second to realize what I'm seeing - or rather, what I'm not seeing.

"The transmitter stopped transmitting," Jordan says, pointing at the map on the screen. Sure enough, the little blinking dot that represents Squeal's location is conspicuously absent, leaving only the trail going right to the Delaware.

"What happened?" I ask, a sinking feeling in my gut.

Jordan taps a few keys, their brow furrowed in concentration. "Last known location was near the Delaware River," they say, tracing a finger along the map. "And then… nothing."

"You think he threw it in the river?" Derek asks, and Jordan nods.

"That's my guess. Water would short out the transmitter pretty quickly."

I let out a frustrated groan, dragging a hand down my face. "Great. So we're back to square one, then."

Jordan sits back, looking pensive. "Maybe not entirely," they say slowly, tapping their chin. "I might be able to triangulate his last known position, give us a general area to search. It's not much, but it's something."

I nod, feeling a flicker of hope spark in my chest. "Okay, that's good. That's a start."

Derek claps a hand on Jordan's shoulder, grinning. "Look at you, being all tech-savvy," he says, and Jordan rolls their eyes, shrugging off his hand. "Should've thought of this before we came up with this stupid plan…"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm a regular Bill Gates," they mutter, but I can see a pleased little smile tugging at the corner of their mouth. "Just give me a few minutes to work my magic, okay?"

But after minutes pass, and nothing comes up, Derek finds himself looking out the window, at the slowly setting sun. And he has a look on his face, a look that's sort of like… I'm not supposed to be out here this late. He sighs and pinches his splinted nose again. "I can't keep waiting all day for this, so let's table it for now. And I'll let you know - I have a better plan tomorrow."

"Oh yeah?" Jordan asks, eyebrow raised, not looking away from their computer.

"Yeah. Trust me."

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

As I make my way through the familiar streets of Tacony-Mayfair, my mind is still buzzing with the events of the past few days. The warehouse fight, the lost transmitter, the tantalizing clues about the Jump drug trade - it's a lot to process, even for someone with my particular set of skills.

I'm so lost in thought that I almost don't notice the figure stepping out of the shadows ahead of me, their movements smooth and purposeful. But as they draw closer, I feel a spark of recognition, followed by a jolt of surprise. It takes a second for me to recognize - I catch her kung fu gear and the haircut before her face really… clicks into place.

But as Sundial approaches, I see that her posture is relaxed, her hands held out in a gesture of peace. "Bloodhound," she greets me, her voice calm and measured. "I was hoping I'd run into you."

I raise an eyebrow, curious despite myself. "Oh yeah? And why's that?"

Sundial's eyes are serious behind her mask. "I've been investigating our little drug problem. And from what I've seen, it's bigger than either of our teams can handle alone."

"I'm listening," I say cautiously, and Sundial nods.

"I've been using my powers to track the drug trade, to try and get a sense of the scope of the problem. And what I've seen is troubling, to say the least. I investigate local gunshots and 90% of them, including yesterday's, are some sort of fight over Jump and Fly. And…" she rubs her temples together. "I'm starting to get a little tired of it."

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"So what do you propose?" I ask, my voice steady despite the churning in my gut.

Sundial looks me in the eye, her gaze intense. "I propose we work together. Pool our resources, share our intel. We're stronger as a team than we are apart. You have your… guys, I have the Titans. We'll get a big jamboree together. Maybe bother the Young Defenders about it. Maybe bother the Sirens about it. Maybe the Phreaks."

"Not the Phreaks," I say, cutting a hand in front of her face. Well, sort of under it, given the height difference. Sundial is… taller than me. I am not staring at her chest. I am straining my neck to look up at her.

"Yeah, not the Phreaks," she mirrors. I don't ask about the Sirens - a group I'm unfamiliar with.

I hesitate for a moment, weighing the risks and benefits in my mind.

"Okay," I say finally, holding out my hand. "Let's do this. Let's take these bastards down."

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

When I arrive at the Tacony Music Hall, I find Jordan and Spindle already there, huddled around Jordan's laptop with Derek looming over their shoulders. They all look up as I enter, and I can see the same mix of excitement and trepidation on their faces that I'm feeling in my gut.

"Sundial wants to meet up," I say without preamble, and Jordan nods.

"We know. We got the message too," Spindle says. "I mean, I didn't meet Sundial. Was some other girl. But I guess the Titans? She said the Titans want to meet up."

"I got a guy," Jordan interrupts.

I raise an eyebrow. "She asked all of us?"

Spindle shrugs. "Guess she wanted to make sure we were all on the same page."

I nod, then turn to Derek. "You think you can track Squeal from the last known location on the GPS map? You mentioned something about it yesterday."

Derek's face peels downward into a smug grin. "Yeah. You may have took the name Bloodhound but you don't got a nose like me."

I raise an eyebrow at him like he's grown two heads. "You serious?"

Derek stares bullets in me. "I do not know if I am ontologically capable of being un-serious."

"Alright, Pythagoras," Jordan quips from the corner.

What follows is a whirlwind of activity as we all scramble to gather the necessary equipment and supplies. Jordan and Spindle head out to set up surveillance cameras and microphones around the area where Squeal was last seen, while Derek and I hit the streets, our noses to the ground (literally, in Derek's case).

It's slow going at first, with Derek stopping every few feet to sniff the air, his eyes closed in concentration, face wrapped up in the scraps of my old costume - 'Fenrir'. I feel a little ridiculous, trailing behind him like a lost puppy, but I force myself to stay focused, to trust in his abilities. Frankly, my old costume fits better on him than it does me. With his hair stuffed under it and his broad shoulders it cuts an intimidating silhouette.

And then, suddenly, we catch a break. Derek's head snaps up, his eyes wide and alert. "I've got something," he says, his voice tight with excitement. "It's faint, but it's definitely Squeal. Dude smells like a dentist's office. And cocaine."

I feel a thrill of adrenaline surge through me as we take off, following Derek's nose through the winding streets of Kensington. We move quickly, darting through alleyways and across busy intersections, drawing more than a few curious stares from passersby.

But I barely notice the attention, my focus narrowed down to the hunt, to the thrill of the chase. This is what I live for, the rush of adrenaline that comes with using my powers for good, with making a real difference in the world.

We track Squeal's scent for hours, winding our way deeper into the heart of North Philly. The trail leads us to a run-down apartment block, the kind of place where people go to disappear, to fade into the background of the city.

Derek comes to a stop outside the building, his nose twitching as he takes in the scent. "He's here," he says, his voice low and certain. "Or at least, he was recently."

I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. This is it, the breakthrough we've been waiting for. With any luck, we'll be able to pick up Squeal's trail from here, to follow him straight to the source of the Jump drug problem.

But first, we need to set up surveillance, to gather as much intel as we can before we make our move. I pull out my communicator and send a quick message to Jordan and Spindle, letting them know our location.

They arrive a short while later, arms laden with equipment. Together, we set up a perimeter around the apartment block, carefully placing cameras and microphones in strategic locations. Spindle proves invaluable in this effort, his flexibility and small size allowing him to squeeze into tight spaces and place the devices in spots that would be impossible for the rest of us to reach.

As the sun begins to set, we finish our work and regroup back at the Tacony Music Hall, exhausted but exhilarated. Well, we regroup, and Derek heads home. We've made more progress in one day than we have in weeks, and the prospect of finally getting some answers, of making a real dent in the Jump problem, is enough to keep us going.

But there's still one more piece of the puzzle to put in place. The next afternoon, we find ourselves pulling up outside a nondescript garage in Tacony, the designated meeting spot for our rendezvous with the Tacony Titans. I feel a flutter of nerves in my stomach as we exit the van, my eyes scanning the street for any sign of trouble. This is a big moment, a chance to forge a powerful alliance in the fight against the Jump drug trade.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts. Beside me, I can sense the others doing the same, their postures tense and alert as we approach the garage door. I knock shave-and-a-haircut, and it begins to creak open.