Chum

Finally, Tasha breaks the silence. "What the actual fuck just happened?"

I shake my head, still trying to process everything. "I have no idea. But I think we just got a glimpse into the mind of a supervillain, and it was… not what I expected."

We stand there for a moment longer, both lost in thought. Then, by unspoken agreement, we start making our way towards the exit. I think we've both had enough of the zoo for one day.

As we walk, I can't stop turning Mrs. Xenograft's - Dr. Trinh-Norwood's - words over in my head. The way she talked about animals, with such passion and enthusiasm. The tired resignation in her voice when she explained her reasons for working with the Kingdom. The warning she gave us, not so much a threat as a plea for us to stay out of it.

It doesn't fit with the image I had of her in my head. The cruel, calculating villain who sent hybrid monsters to attack my home. Who worked with people like Mudslide and Mrs. Heartstopper. How can that person be the same as this… this nerdy scientist who gets worked up about people liking dolphins too much?

"It doesn't make sense," I mutter, more to myself than to Tasha.

She glances at me, raising an eyebrow. "What doesn't?"

I gesture vaguely, struggling to put my thoughts into words. "Her. Mrs. Xenograft. Dr. Trinh-Norwood. Whatever she wants to call herself. How can she be… like that, and still work for the Kingdom? How can she just ignore all the harm they're causing?"

Tasha is quiet for a moment, considering. "I don't think she is ignoring it," she says finally. "I think… I think maybe she's just decided that her work is more important. That the good she believes she can do through her research outweighs the bad of working with criminals."

I shake my head, frustrated. "But that's bullshit. You can't just… balance out good and bad like that. It doesn't work that way."

"Doesn't it?" Tasha asks, her voice gentle, prodding, like she's testing me. "I mean, look at us… I mean, well, you guys, mostly. We break laws all the time in the name of being heroes. We justify it by saying we're doing it for the greater good. How is that really any different?"

I open my mouth to argue, then close it again. "It's not the same," I say finally, but even to my own ears it sounds weak. "I have a license,"

"You and Jordan semi-regularly assault people and take their belongings. Sure, they may be drug dealers or dog fighters or murderers, and those belongings might be cocaine or blood money that you spend on candy and electronics, but you know, it's not as black and white as we might want it to be," Tasha interrupts me. "I know that was mostly before Jump hit the streets, but you can't pretend we're all squeaky clean."

"You can't either, Miss Mayfly," I find myself almost growling.

Tasha's brow furrows. "And we were doing what we could to help you. That's what I mean. It's not all easy answers."

We exit the zoo in silence, both lost in our own uncomfortable thoughts and the silence of a near-argument. The sun is starting to set, casting long shadows across the parking lot.

"Do you think she was telling the truth?" I ask suddenly. "About just being in it for the money?"

Tasha considers for a moment. "I think… I think she was telling her version of the truth. The way she sees it, anyway."

I nod slowly. "Yeah. I guess that makes sense. It's just… it's easier when the bad guys are just bad, you know? When you can look at them and say 'yep, that's a villain' and not have to think about it too much."

Tasha laughs, but it's a soft, sad sound. "Welcome to the real world, Sam. Where even the villains have their reasons, and the heroes aren't always as heroic as we want them to be."

I sigh, leaning back against the bench we're sitting on. "I miss when things were simpler."

"Were they ever really simple, though?" Tasha asks. "Or did we just think they were because we didn't know any better?"

I don't have a good answer for her.

The house is quiet when I enter, the soft glow of the living room lamp the only sign that anyone's home. I kick off my shoes and pad into the kitchen, my stomach growling despite the pizza we had earlier. Stress always makes me hungry.

As I'm rummaging through the fridge, I hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see my mom leaning against the doorframe, a mug of tea in her hands.

"Hey sweetie," she says, her voice soft. "How was the zoo?"

I pause, a jar of pickles in my hand, trying to figure out how to answer that. How do I explain that we ran into a supervillain who turned out to be a passionate scientist with a weird fixation on dolphins? That I'm questioning everything I thought I knew about good and evil?

"It was… interesting," I say finally, setting the pickles on the counter. "We saw a lot of cool animals."

Mom raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing there's more to the story. "Just cool animals? Nothing else interesting happened?"

I sigh, closing the fridge door. "We… ran into someone. Someone I wasn't expecting to see there."

Mom's expression shifts, concern creeping into her eyes. "Someone dangerous?"

I think about Dr. Trinh-Norwood, about her tired eyes and her passionate rants about animal behavior. "Not exactly," I say slowly. "Just… complicated."

Mom nods, not pushing for more details. She's gotten good at that lately - knowing when to press and when to let things be. "Well, if you want to talk about it, I'm here. And if you don't, that's okay too."

I manage a small smile, grateful for her understanding. "Thanks, Mom. I might take you up on that later. For now, I think I just need to process everything."

She nods again, then gestures to the jar on the counter. "Want me to make you a sandwich to go with those pickles?"

I feel a rush of affection for her. Even with everything going on, even with all the worry and stress that comes with having a superhero for a daughter, she still finds ways to take care of me. To remind me that I'm not just Bloodhound, but also Sam. Her daughter.

"That would be great," I say, my smile feeling a little more genuine now. "Thanks, Mom."

As she bustles around the kitchen, pulling out bread and sandwich fixings, I hop up onto one of the bar stools at the counter. I watch her work, the familiar movements soothing in their normalcy.

"Hey Mom?" I say after a moment.

"Hmm?" she responds, not looking up from the sandwich she's assembling.

"Do you ever… I mean, with your work at the library. Do you ever feel like you're not making enough of a difference? Like you should be doing more?"

She pauses, looking up at me with a thoughtful expression. "Sometimes," she admits. "I think everyone feels that way now and then. Why do you ask?"

I shrug, tracing patterns on the countertop with my finger. "Just something I've been thinking about. With everything going on in the city, with all the crime and corruption… sometimes it feels like what we're doing isn't enough. Like we're just putting band-aids on a gaping wound."

Mom sets the finished sandwich in front of me, then leans on the counter, her eyes meeting mine. "Samantha," she says, her voice gentle but firm. "What you're doing is important. Every life you save, every crime you stop… it matters. But it's not your responsibility to fix everything. You're one person, sweetheart. A remarkable person, but still just one person."

I nod, picking up the sandwich but not taking a bite yet. "I know. It's just… hard sometimes. To know where to draw the line. To know when enough is enough."

She reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "That's part of growing up, honey. Learning to set boundaries, to recognize your own limits. It doesn't mean you're giving up or that you don't care. It just means you're human."

I think about Dr. Trinh-Norwood again, about her justifications for working with the Kingdom. Is that what she tells herself? That she's just recognizing her limits, setting boundaries?

"But what if… what if by setting those boundaries, we're letting bad things happen? What if we could do more, but we choose not to?"

Mom is quiet for a moment, considering her words carefully. "I think… I think that's a question everyone has to answer for themselves. But sweetheart, you can't save everyone. You can't fix everything. And trying to will only burn you out in the long run."

I take a bite of my sandwich, chewing slowly as I mull over her words. She's right, of course. I know she's right. But knowing it and accepting it are two different things.

"Thanks, Mom," I say finally. "For the sandwich and the advice."

She smiles, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "Anytime, kiddo. Now eat up and get some rest. Whatever's going on, it'll still be there in the morning."