The room falls silent for a moment, everyone lost in thought. Jordan pulls out their laptop, and gets to searching, their fingers silently sailing over the keyboard like they're made for it. Finally, after several agonizing minutes of discomforted mumbling between each other, Jordan speaks up again. "What if we could get our hands on one of those keyless fobs they use at the Dorchester? I bet I could clone it, and then we could get in without anyone noticing. It looks like it's just RFID. That's super insecure."

Derek frowns. "Okay, but how do we get a fob in the first place? It's not like they just hand them out to anyone."

Jordan grins. "For a hardened criminal, you seem to really not understand the idea of pickpocketing people."

"Not a criminal!" Derek yells, at roughly the same time as Spindle letting out a somewhat-admonishing gasp.

"Jordan, sweetie, that's illegal," he gently reminds them.

"You were literally breaking into convenience stores to rob them like half a year ago, darling," Jordan replies, rolling their eyes at Spindle. "And it's for the greater good. A person loses their key fob, they get a new one at the front desk, maybe they pay like twenty dollars, and we lock up a high level drug dealer. There's priorities here. It's not like we can get a search warrant."

I can't help but feel a little uneasy about the idea of Jordan pickpocketing someone to steal a keyfob to do RFID cloning - whatever that means - but it's the best idea anyone's had all conversation. "Okay, so let's say we get a fob. How do we figure out which unit is Sparkplug's?"

Derek taps his nose. "That's where I come in. If I can get close enough, I should be able to sniff him out. We just need to narrow down the search area and be able to get into the elevators."

Tasha nods. "Right. So we clone the fob, get into the building, and then Fenrir does his bloodhound thing until we find the right floor. Then what?"

I take a deep breath. "Then we come up with a plan to take him down. But we're not going to rush into anything. We need to be smart about this."

Kate, who has been uncharacteristically quiet, finally speaks up. "What about surveillance? If we can get eyes on his unit, we can learn his routine, figure out the best time to strike."

As the team starts to hash out the details of the plan, I can't help but feel a sense of pride. We may be a bunch of misfits, but we're working together, using our strengths to cover each other's weaknesses. It's not going to be easy, but for the first time since this whole mess started, I feel like we might actually have a chance at doing something other than stumbling against each other's shoelaces and falling on each other's rakes.

Of course, there's still the question of what we do once we find Sparkplug. We can't just go in guns blazing (not that any of us have guns, thankfully). We need to be strategic, find a way to neutralize his powers and take him down without anyone getting hurt. But that's a problem for another day. For now, we have a plan. Get the fob, find the unit, set up surveillance. One step at a time.

I look around the room, taking in the determined faces of my friends and allies. Kate, still brooding but with a glint of hope in her eyes. Jordan, their mind already whirring with the logistics of cloning a fob. Derek, his nose twitching as if he can already smell Sparkplug's scent. Tasha and Marcus, heads bent together as they discuss drone modifications. Jenna, looking a little shell-shocked but proud of herself for speaking up. The rest of the Tacony Titans meander. Someone orders a pizza.

Stolen story; please report.

Things are... well.

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

Hours pass as we continue to plan and prepare. The pizza arrives, and we take a break to refuel and recharge. As we munch on slices of pepperoni and mushroom, the conversation starts to shift towards involving the Young Defenders or even the Delaware Valley Defenders. Jordan is the first to bring it up.

"Maybe we should bring in some backup," they suggest. "I mean, Sparkplug is no joke. We could use all the help we can get."

But I shake my head. "No way. If any fighting is going to happen, it's going to be in a confined space. More cooks will just spoil the broth."

Kate frowns. "But they have way more experience than us. They could teach us a thing or two."

I sigh. "Look, I know everyone's powers inside and out. And the truth is, none of them will make us any more able to take a lightning bolt to the chest. The only people who'd be able to engage in a fight with Sparkplug on relatively even grounding are me and Derek, because we can heal. Rampart is our go-to big guy with the DVD and his power only protects against kinetic impacts. A lightning bolt will fry him just as bad as it fried Kate."

"It wasn't that bad!" Kate protests. I shoot her down with a withering glare.

"I can second this. As much as I trust my teammates, I don't think any of them would be able to, uh, handle Sparkplug any more than Bloodhound can. She's really the best for the job," Spindle chimes in, in between bites of pizza.

Sundial nods. "Bloodhound's right. Plus, the more people we involve, the more likely it is that word will get back to the Officials. And we can't risk that."

"Exactly. The Young Defenders and the DVDs, they're all sanctioned by the government to some degree. They'd have to do things by the book, get warrants, all that red tape. It could tip Sparkplug off that we're coming. And they'd act slower. I don't think they have the flexibility required for something this delicate. That's why we're vigilantes in the first place," Compass elaborates, her vague, Eastern European-ish accent coming out more and more with every word.

"Plus, they'd probably just take over the operation entirely," Sandman mumbles.

I nod. "Exactly. We need to keep this in-house. Just us misfits and weirdos, working together to take down a drug-dealing electricity man. It's not going to be easy, but I know we can do it. We have to."

The room falls silent for a moment, everyone lost in their own thoughts. Then, Derek clears his throat. "Uh, guys? I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I've got about an hour left before I need to head out. You know, before I rip everyone in this room in half."

"I'd like to see you try," Sundial quips, leaning back into her seat at the couch.

I frown, glancing at the clock. He's right. Derek's werewolf transformations are a ticking clock we always have to keep in mind. But then, an idea strikes me. I lean in, lowering my voice. "Actually, Fenrir, that might work to our advantage."

He raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

I glance around the room, making sure everyone is listening. "Well, if we time it right, we could use Fenrir's werewolf strength to our advantage. He's our secret weapon. Especially if we're already sniffing around with him."

Derek looks uncertain. "I don't know, Sam. It's risky. I'm not exactly in control when I'm in that state."

I nod. "I know. But we can work around that. We just need to be smart about it. Control is not a necessary aspect here."

"Lack of control put us in this mess in the first place," Sundial protests, rubbing her forehead with one hand. "Right? Tell me I'm missing something."

"You are. Here, let me lay it out for you," I say, grabbing for Jordan's laptop. I open up an MS Paint document, and the crowd gathers around behind me, watching my Picasso-like masterstrokes of abstract expressionism.

"Is that supposed to be me?" Derek grumbles, itching his head.

"I think that's me," Spindle interjects.

"You are not a werewolf," Sandman points out matter-of-factly.

By the time my diagrammatic clusterfuck is fully assembled, I have the entire room's total undivided attention. I reach for Kate's wrist-mounted canister sprayer, designed to depress a can of pepper spray into someone's eyes in mass quantities, and hold it up to the sky like I'm presenting an item in one of Marcus's video games.

"And this is what we're going to do it with," I announce.

"You motherfucker," Jordan mumbles, with a mixture of fear and admiration. "That's just crazy enough to work."