Chum

The rhythmic thud-thud-thud of Rampart hitting the speedbag echoes through the training room as I push open the door. It's a familiar sound by now, as comforting in its way as the smell of my mom's challah baking or the crackle of my dad's old vinyl records. The rest of the Young Defenders are scattered around the room, most of them buried in books or hunched over tablets. It's study time, apparently.

I make my way over to where Lily is curled up in an uncomfortable looking metal folding chair, her nose buried in what looks like a law textbook. "Hey," I say, flopping down on the floor next to her. "What's the topic du jour?"

She looks up, blowing a strand of purple-dyed hair out of her eyes. "Criminal procedure," she says with a grimace. "Specifically, the rules around admissibility of evidence gathered by superhumans. Did you know that in some states, using enhanced senses to eavesdrop on a conversation is considered a form of warrantless wiretapping?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Seriously? That's messed up. So what, if I happen to overhear a crime being planned because of my shark hearing, I'm supposed to just ignore it?"

Lily looks at me funny. "You have shark hearing?"

"No," I reply, glancing away from her. "I didn't know you were into law."

She smiles at me, reaching out to ruffle my hair. "I'm just bored. I don't understand most of this, I'll be honest."

I bat her hand away, but I'm smiling. It's nice, these little moments of normalcy. Sometimes I forget that under all the spandex and superpowers, we're just a bunch of kids trying to figure out how to save the world without accidentally becoming the bad guys.

Across the room, I spot Connor contorted into what looks like an incredibly uncomfortable position, his lanky frame twisted around itself as he peers at a tablet balanced on his knee. "Hey, Stretch Armstrong," I call out. "You know chairs exist, right?"

He looks up, flashing me that goofy grin that always makes him look about five years younger than he actually is. "Chairs are for people with boring skeletons," he says, unfolding himself with a series of pops and cracks that make me wince. "Besides, this way I can feel like I'm training even while I'm studying."

I roll my eyes. "Pretty sure that's not how it works, but you do you, buddy."

He ambles over, all seven feet of him somehow managing to look both graceful and awkward at the same time. It's a uniquely Connor talent. "So, what brings you to our little nerd convention? I thought you'd be out patrolling or punching bad guys or whatever it is you do when you're not here."

I hesitate for a moment. This is it. The moment of truth. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Actually, I've got an idea I want to run by everyone. A plan, sort of."

Connor's eyebrows shoot up. "A plan? From Sam 'Leap First, Look Later' Small? This I've got to hear."

I punch him lightly in the arm, which is about as high as I can reach without standing on tiptoe. "Shut up. I can plan... sometimes."

He holds up his hands in surrender, still grinning. "Hey, no judgment here. Some of the best ideas come from people who don't usually have them. It's like... beginner's luck, but for thinking."

I shake my head, trying to hide my own smile. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"It's part of my charm," he says with a wink.

By now, our conversation has attracted the attention of the others. Amelia looks up from where she's been meticulously organizing a pile of fabric swatches. (Why she needs those for studying, I have no idea. Maybe it's a textile intelligence thing.) Jason steps away from the speedbag, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel.

"What's this about a plan?" he asks, his deep voice carrying easily across the room.

I take another deep breath. Here goes nothing. "I want to go back to the Crescent," I say, the words coming out in a rush. "Undercover. To gather intel on the Kingdom."

For a moment, there's silence. Then everyone starts talking at once.

"Are you crazy?" That's Lily, her eyes wide with concern.

"Ooh, espionage. Classy." Connor, of course. He already knew the plan from before. That's not a surprise.

"That sounds... risky." Amelia, her voice soft but worried.

Jason just looks at me, his expression unreadable. "Everyone, quiet," he says, and the room falls silent. He turns back to me. "Explain."

So I do. I tell them about Maya Richardson's election, about the lack of concrete evidence linking her to the Kingdom. About the need to be proactive, to find out what they're planning before they can hurt anyone else. As I talk, I can see the others' expressions changing. Concern giving way to interest, skepticism to thoughtfulness.

When I finish, there's another moment of silence. Then Amelia speaks up. "If you're going undercover, you'll need a disguise," she says, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "I can help with that. I've been working on some new fabric blends, and I'd really love to do something instead of repairing Multiplex's shirts. With the right cut and style of clothing, we could make you look completely different."

I blink, surprised by her enthusiasm. "Uh, thanks, Gossamer. That would be great."

Jason holds up a hand. "Before we get too excited, we need to talk about the risks. Sam, what you're proposing... it's dangerous. Not just physically, but legally. If you get caught..."

"I know," I say, meeting his gaze. "But the risk is worth it. We need this information, Jason. You know we do."

He nods slowly. "I do. But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

"None of us like it," Lily chimes in. "But... Sam's right. We can't just sit back and wait for the Kingdom to make their next move."

Connor scratches his head. "So, what, we're all cool with sending our youngest member into the lion's den? Just like that?"

"Not 'just like that'," Jason says. "If you do this - and I'm not saying you are yet - we do it smart. You plan. You prepare. You have backup plans for our backup plans."

I nod eagerly. "Absolutely. Whatever you guys think is necessary. I'm not going in half-cocked, I promise."

Jason opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, a new voice cuts in.

"What's all this about going in half-cocked?"

We all turn to see Captain Plasma standing in the doorway, his perfect hair somehow still immaculate despite the fact that I'm pretty sure he just flew here from across the city. Sometimes I wonder if his powers include some kind of anti-frizz field.

"Captain," Jason says, straightening up instinctively. "We were just discussing a potential... intelligence gathering operation."

Captain Plasma's eyebrows rise. "Oh? Sounds interesting. Mind if I weigh in?"

We all exchange glances. It's not that we don't trust Captain Plasma - he's a good guy, really. But he's also, well... a bit of a boy scout. He's still adjusting to Philadelphia and I can *smell* the Los Angeles on his accent. His skin is still perfectly tanned, his hair done up with gel.

But before any of us can come up with a polite way to say 'thanks but no thanks', he's already striding into the room, a concerned frown on his impossibly chiseled face.

"Look, I don't want to overstep," he says, which usually means he's about to do exactly that. "But solo missions, especially undercover ones... they're risky. More risky than you might realize."

I bite back a sigh. "With all due respect, Captain, I know the risks. I've been training for this kind of thing."

He holds up a hand. "I know, I know. You're all very capable. But there's a difference between training and real-world experience. Let me tell you a story."

Oh boy. Here we go.

"Back when I was about your age," he begins, and I have to resist the urge to roll my eyes. I catch Connor miming a yawn behind the Captain's back and have to stifle a giggle. "I thought I was invincible. Plasma powers, flight, super strength - what could possibly go wrong, right?"

He pauses, his expression growing serious. "I was in LA, tracking a gang that was using some kind of high-tech weapons. Thought I'd be clever, go in undercover as a potential buyer. Long story short, my cover got blown, and I ended up in a firefight with about a dozen heavily armed criminals. No backup, no exit strategy."

Despite myself, I find I'm leaning in, interested despite myself. "What happened?"

Captain Plasma's mouth twists into a wry smile. "I got lucky. Very lucky. Managed to fly out of there by the skin of my teeth, but not before taking a few hits that even my powers couldn't fully protect me from. Spent the next month in the hospital, and the gang got away clean, because all the evidence I gathered was inadmissable or exploded."

He looks around at all of us, his gaze lingering on me. "The point is, no matter how prepared you think you are, things can always go wrong. And when they do, you want someone watching your back."

I nod slowly. "I appreciate the concern, Captain. Really. But this isn't the same situation. I'm not going in guns blazing - it's just reconnaissance."

"For now," he says. "But what happens if you uncover something big? Something that needs immediate action? Will you be able to walk away, or will you be tempted to play the hero?"

I open my mouth to protest, but Jason cuts in. "He has a point, Sam. We need to consider all possibilities."

I let out a frustrated sigh. "So what, we just do nothing? Let the Kingdom keep operating unchecked?"

Captain Plasma shakes his head. "That's not what I'm saying. Just... be careful. Plan for every contingency. And maybe consider having at least one teammate nearby for backup."

I glance at the others, exchanging eyes with Connor. Lily looks worried, Amelia thoughtful. Connor is still making faces behind the Captain's back, but even he looks a bit more serious than usual.

"We'll take it under advisement," Jason says diplomatically. "Thank you for your input, Captain."

Captain Plasma nods, apparently satisfied. "Glad I could help. Just remember, there's no shame in asking for help when you need it. That's what teams are for, after all."

With that, he gives us all one last stern-yet-kindly look (how does he manage that?) and heads out, hovering about an inch off the ground, probably off to rescue a kitten from a tree or help an old lady cross the street or help deliver a baby whatever it is perfect heroes do in their spare time.

As soon as he's gone, Connor lets out a theatrical groan. "Well, that was about as fun as a root canal performed by a drunken octopus."

I snort. "Come on, he means well."

"Yeah, well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and people who can't mind their own business," Connor grumbles. I feel a little bit of the Phreaks wriggle out from between his teeth, there, but I don't comment on it.

Jason shoots him a warning look. "Alright, that's enough. Captain Plasma may be... overly cautious, but he's not wrong about the risks."

I nod reluctantly. "I know. But we can't let fear stop us from doing what needs to be done."

Jason studies me for a long moment, then nods. "Agreed. But we do this smart. Gossamer, you said you can help with the disguise?"

Amelia nods eagerly. "Oh yes. I've been experimenting with some new techniques that should work perfectly for this. We'll make Sam look so different, her own mother wouldn't recognize her."

I grin. "Sounds good to me. The less I look like myself, the better."

Jason nods, then jerks his head towards the door. "Sam, a word?"