Chum

Begin Arc 8: Big

The rest of my Halloween night was a blur of pain and exhaustion. After my grueling confrontation with Patriot, I limped my way home, every step a fresh agony. By the time I made it back, it was late enough that my parents were already asleep, thinking I was out with friends. If only they knew the truth.

I stumbled into my room, peeling off my battered costume with trembling fingers. My entire body felt like one giant bruise, a throbbing mass of aches and pains. But I couldn't rest, not yet. I had to patch myself up, had to make sure I wasn't bleeding out from some unseen wound.

Thank G-d for my enhanced healing. As I sat there on the edge of my bed, slowly cleaning and bandaging my injuries, I could feel my body knitting itself back together, the pain receding like a tide. It was a strange sensation, almost an itch beneath the skin, a prickling warmth that spread through my muscles and bones.

I thought about Patriot as I worked, about the things he'd said, the twisted ideology he clung to so desperately. How could someone so strong, so powerful, be so utterly misguided? So blinded by their own narrow worldview that they couldn't see the damage they were causing, the people they were hurting?

But then again, who was I to judge? I was just a kid playing dress-up, trying to make a difference in a world that seemed determined to tear itself apart. Maybe Patriot and I weren't so different after all. Maybe we were both just fumbling in the dark, trying to find our way.

I shook my head, wincing at the spike of pain the motion sent through my skull. No, that was bullshit. I wasn't like him. I couldn't be. Because if I was, then what was the point of any of this? What was the point of putting on the mask, of risking my life night after night, if I was just going to end up like him in the end?

I finished bandaging the last of my wounds and stood up, testing my weight gingerly. Everything seemed to be in working order, more or less. I'd be sore as hell tomorrow, but I'd live. That was more than I could say for some of the people Patriot had hurt.

I crawled into bed, my body screaming for rest. But even as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, my mind wouldn't stop racing. I kept replaying the fight in my head, analyzing every move, every mistake. What could I have done differently? How could I have ended it sooner, before either of us got too badly hurt?

But there were no easy answers, no quick fixes. This was the life I'd chosen, for better or worse. The life of a hero, with all the pain and sacrifice that entailed. I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion sweep over me like a wave. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new battles to be fought. But for now, I needed to rest. I needed to heal.

As I drifted off to sleep, my last conscious thought was of Maggie. Of her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was something special. Like I was a hero.

I just hoped I could live up to that.

"This is Channel 6 Action News, reporting live from City Hall. In a stunning turn of events, Democratic nominee Maya Richardson is now projected to win the special election for the vacant City Council seat, with a sudden ten point lead since last polls."

The newscaster's voice, usually so calm and measured, now betrays no hidden disbelief as she delivers this shocking news. On the TV screen behind her, a graphic displays Richardson's photo alongside the latest poll numbers, showing her with a commanding lead over her opponent.

I sit on the couch in our living room, staring at the TV in a mix of disbelief and rising anger. Beside me, my parents wear similar expressions of shock and confusion, while Maggie, perched on the armchair to my right, seems to be split between excitement at some notion that I don't understand, and mild sympathetic concern at our own concern.

"Maya Richardson, owner of several successful local businesses and a well-known philanthropist, has had her run harried with allegations of ties to organized crime," the newscaster continues, her brow slightly furrowed. "Despite these allegations, Richardson's campaign has gained significant traction in recent weeks, with many voters drawn to her message of economic revitalization and increased support for minority-owned businesses. After last week's interviews, she is now the favorite to win the race."

"Wait a minute," my mom says suddenly, leaning forward on the couch. "Isn't that the woman who was with that awful T-Rex man last winter? The one who destroyed our house just before Hanukkah?"

My dad's eyes widen in recognition. "You're right, Rachel. I knew she looked familiar. Sam, isn't she one of those Kingdom people you've tangled with before?"

I nod grimly, my hands clenching into fists on my lap. "Yeah, that's her. I couldn't tell you her name, but she was there. She was there that night, with Mr. T-Rex, when they attacked our home. You think that's her real name?"

"Has to be. Don't they run background checks when you try to become a politician, darling?" My dad asks, bouncing the question over to my mother.

My mom rubs her chin in thought. "Regular background checks, yes. Postcognitive checks, no, at least not for something as minor as city council. How could they not have... dug up that she's a gangster?"

Maggie leans forward, her face a mix of confusion and excitement. "Hold on, Sam: can you give me the crash course? Who is this lady, and what's her deal with the Kingdom?"

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "Okay, so the Kingdom of Keys is this big organized crime group that operates in Philly and the surrounding areas. They're into all sorts of shady stuff - drug trafficking, extortion, underground fight rings, you name it. And Maya - I guess that's her name - I think she's either at the top or up there. She was there that night with Mr. T-Rex - another Kingdom member who can transform into a literal dinosaur - when they came after me, thinking I was home. They wrecked our place pretty bad before I managed to drive them off with Rampart's help."

"And now she's about to be elected to City Council? That's insane!" Maggie exclaims, shaking her head in disbelief. "How can people not know what she really is? What she's done?"

My mom sighs, her face pinched with worry. "I don't know, Maggie. It's not like we have any proof. It was just our word against hers. And you know how these things go - people with money and power, they always seem to come out on top, no matter what they've done."

I feel a hot surge of anger rise in my throat, threatening to choke me. "It's not right," I growl, my fingernails digging into my palms. "She's a criminal, a supervillain. She shouldn't be anywhere near a position of authority. We have to do something."

Dad rests a hand on my shoulder, his touch gentle but firm. "Sam, I know how you feel. Believe me, I'm just as outraged as you are. But we have to be careful. If what you say is true, then Mrs. Richardson is a very dangerous woman. And now she's about to hold public office. Going after her openly could put us all at risk. Or, let's be realistic: going after her openly could result in her doubling down against you specifically. I know you could take it - of course you could - but I don't know if I want you to have to take it."

Maggie nods, her fingers toying nervously with the hem of her shirt. "Your dad's got a point, Sam. I mean, I'm totally on board with taking this lady down, but we can't just go in guns blazing. We need a plan."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. They're right, of course. As much as I want to just charge in and confront Richardson directly, I know it would be a disaster. She's too powerful, too well-connected. If I'm going to take her on, I need to be smart about it. I need to gather evidence, build a case. Find a way to expose her for what she really is.

"Okay," I say at last, my voice tight with barely-contained frustration. "I... No, I'm done. I can't let her do this! I have to stop her before she gets elected!"

Mom nods, her face set with grim determination. "Just be careful, Sam. Don't take any unnecessary risks. Don't your friends - don't the Delaware Valley Defenders have someone from City Council involved? Maybe you should talk to him. Rope in some of the adults in the room. You don't have to do it alone. We're here to help you."

I feel a sudden rush of gratitude, my anger momentarily eclipsed by the warmth of their support. "Thanks, Mom. Dad. Maggie. I don't know what I'd do without you guys. Without all of you."

"Probably get your butt kicked a lot more often," Maggie quips, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Good thing you've got me to watch your back now."

I can't help but smile at that, even as my cheeks flush slightly. Maggie's only been training with me for a short while, but already I can't imagine doing this without her. Her enthusiasm, her fearlessness, her unshakable moral compass - it's like a light in the darkness, guiding me forward.

But I can't let myself get distracted. Not now, with so much at stake. I stand up from the couch, my body still aching from last night's battle, but my resolve unwavering. "I'm going on a walk," I announce, my voice brooking no argument. "I need to clear my head, I don't think I can watch any more news."

"Are you going for a walk, or a walk?" Mom asks. Coded language. Right. Are you going for a walk, or are you going to do superheroics? I guess my face doesn't look as busted up as it feels, or maybe the concealer I'm wearing is working overtime, because she doesn't sound half as concerned as she should be. More... resigned.

"Just a walk," I lie, as casually as breathing. "Maggie, you wanna come with?"

Maggie practically leaps out of her seat, her face splitting into a massive grin. "Yeah! I don't get the opportunity to check out other parts of Philly that often."

Mom and Dad exchange a worried glance, but they know better than to try and stop me. "Just be careful out there, both of you," Dad says, his voice thick with concern. "Remember, that... bald man and his particular band of jerks are still out there trying to take advantage of the chaos. Avoid crowds. And get home before dark!"

I successfully resist the urge to correct him. Patriot won't be a problem anymore. I nod, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze. "I will, Dad. I promise." I glance over at Maggie, feeling a sudden surge of protective affection. "You watch my back, I'll watch yours?"

Maggie grins, holding out her fist for me to bump. "Always."

And with that, we're out the door, striding out into the cool November evening. The streets of Mayfair are quiet at this hour, the rowhouses and shops closed up tight against the encroaching darkness. Leaves skitter across the sidewalk, pushed by a chill breeze that sends a shiver down my spine.

"Come on," I say, leading Maggie down a side alley, away from prying eyes. "Let's get suited up. We've got work to do."