Chum

The Philadelphia Zoo in mid-November is a different beast than the one I remember from childhood field trips. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of fallen leaves and the promise of snow. Most of the trees are bare now, their branches reaching up like skeletal fingers against the pale gray sky. It's quiet, too. The usual cacophony of excited kids and harried parents is replaced by a sort of hushed anticipation, like the whole place is holding its breath, waiting for winter to truly set in.

Tasha and I make our way through the entrance, flashing our tickets to the bored-looking attendant. I can't help but notice the increased police presence - there's an officer stationed near the ticket booth, another patrolling near the gift shop. It's subtle, but it's there.

"So," Tasha says as we start down the main path, her breath puffing out in little clouds. "Where do you want to start? Primates? Big cats? Creepy crawlies?"

I shrug, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. "Honestly? I'm not really an animal person. This is more your territory."

Tasha's eyes light up at that, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Oh, excellent. Then you won't mind if we start with the invertebrates exhibit?"

I groan internally but force a smile. "Sure, why not? Lead the way, bug girl."

As we make our way towards the invertebrate house, I can't help but scan our surroundings, looking for anything out of place. It's become a habit lately, this constant vigilance. Every shadow could be hiding a Kingdom operative, every stranger a potential threat.

"You know," Tasha says, interrupting my paranoid musings, "the Philadelphia Zoo was actually the first true zoo in the United States. Opened in 1874."

"Huh," I say, mildly interested despite myself. "That's pretty cool, I guess. How'd you know that?"

She shrugs, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I may have done some research before we came. Wanted to be prepared, you know?"

I can't help but smile at that. Classic Tasha, always doing her homework. "Well, consider me impressed. Any other fun facts you want to share?"

"Oh, tons," she says, her eyes sparkling. "Did you know that the zoo has over 1,300 animals? Or that they have one of the most successful breeding programs for endangered species in the country?"

"I did not know that," I admit. "But now I'm wondering why a criminal organization would be interested in a place like this. I mean, sure, there are probably some valuable animals here, but it's not exactly Fort Knox, you know?"

Tasha nods, her expression turning thoughtful. "That's what I've been trying to figure out. Maybe it's not about the animals themselves, but something else. The research they do here, maybe? Or the facilities?"

We reach the invertebrate house, and Tasha's face lights up like a kid on Hanukkah morning. She practically drags me inside, chattering excitedly about the different species we're about to see. Her... infatuation with bugs isn't exactly unknown to me but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it. I'm not exactly a huge bug fan myself.

The first display we come to is filled with what looks like a bunch of leaves. I'm about to move on when Tasha grabs my arm, pointing excitedly.

"Look! Leaf insects! Aren't they amazing?"

I squint, and suddenly the "leaves" come into focus. They're insects alright, their bodies perfectly mimicking the shape and color of leaves. It's honestly kind of creepy.

"That's... something," I manage, trying to sound impressed.

Tasha either doesn't notice my lack of enthusiasm or chooses to ignore it. She's already moving on to the next display, this one filled with what looks like a tangle of branches. But as I watch, I realize the branches are moving.

"Walking sticks," Tasha explains, her nose practically pressed to the glass. "They're masters of camouflage. Some species can even change color to match their surroundings."

As we move through the exhibit, Tasha keeps up a running commentary on each creature we see. Her enthusiasm is infectious, and I find myself getting drawn in despite my initial reluctance. There's something fascinating about these tiny, alien-looking creatures, each perfectly adapted to its own niche in the world.

We stop at a display of giant centipedes, their segmented bodies undulating in a way that makes my skin crawl. Tasha, of course, is enthralled.

"Did you know that centipedes are venomous?" she says, her eyes wide with excitement. "They use modified legs called forcipules to inject venom into their prey."

"Charming," I mutter, taking an involuntary step back from the display. "Remind me again why you like these things?"

Tasha laughs, finally tearing her gaze away from the centipedes. "They're just so incredibly well-designed, you know? Every part of them serves a purpose. It's like... nature's perfect little killing machines."

I raise an eyebrow at that. "Careful there, Tash. You're starting to sound like a supervillain."

She rolls her eyes, but I can see the hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Please. If I were a supervillain, I'd have way cooler minions than centipedes."

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

She taps her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Maybe an army of highly trained honey badgers. Or venomous platypuses."

I snort, picturing an army of angry platypuses waddling into battle. "Okay, I'll give you points for creativity. But I think I'll stick with my shark powers, thanks."

As we exit the invertebrate house, blinking in the sudden brightness, I notice another police officer walking by. He nods at us as he passes, his eyes scanning the area with practiced efficiency.

"Is it just me," I mutter to Tasha, "or are there more cops here than usual?"

She nods, her expression turning serious. "I noticed that too. Guess the DVDs are taking our intel seriously."

We start walking again, heading towards the big cat exhibits. The path is lined with bare trees, their branches casting intricate shadows on the ground. It's beautiful, in a stark, wintry sort of way.

"So," Tasha says after a moment of companionable silence, "how are things going with you and Maggie?"

I blink, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. "Uh, fine? I mean, we're friends. We train together. Why?"

Tasha gives me a look that I can't quite decipher. "Just curious. You two seem to be spending a lot of time together lately."

"Well, yeah," I say, feeling strangely defensive. "She's part of the team. And she needs training. What's your point?"

Tasha holds up her hands in a placating gesture. "No point. Just making an observation. You seem... happier when she's around, that's all."

I feel a flush creeping up my neck and force it down. "She's a good friend. And a good teammate. That's all there is to it."

"Uh-huh," Tasha says, sounding unconvinced. "Whatever you say, Sam."

We reach the big cat enclosure, and I'm grateful for the distraction. The first exhibit we come to houses a pair of snow leopards, their thick fur gleaming in the weak sunlight. They're lounging on a rocky outcropping, looking supremely unbothered by the chilly weather.

"Now these," I say, gesturing to the leopards, "I can appreciate. Look at how chill they are. That's the kind of energy I aspire to."

Tasha laughs, shaking her head. "Of course you'd identify with the apex predators. Why am I not surprised?"

We make our way around the big cat loop, stopping to admire the lions, tigers, and jaguars. Each animal is impressive in its own way, but there's something about the snow leopards that keeps drawing my eye. Maybe it's their quiet grace, or the way they seem so perfectly adapted to their environment.

As we're watching a pair of Amur tigers pace back and forth in their enclosure, a thought occurs to me.

"Hey, Tash? You don't think the Kingdom could be after any of these animals, do you? Like, for some kind of weird power experiment or something?"

Tasha frowns, considering the idea. "It's possible, I guess. But it seems like a lot of trouble to go through. There are probably easier ways to get exotic animals if that's what they're after."

I nod, not entirely convinced but willing to let it go for now. We continue our loop, eventually ending up back at the snow leopard enclosure. As we watch, one of the leopards stretches languidly, then leaps down from its perch with impossible grace. It pads over to a small pool of water, lapping at it delicately.

"You know," Tasha says, her voice quiet, "snow leopards are considered vulnerable to extinction. There are only about 4,000 left in the wild."

I feel a pang of sadness at that. "That's... really depressing, actually. Why are there so few?"

"Lots of reasons," Tasha says, her eyes still fixed on the leopard. "Habitat loss, climate change, poaching. They're incredibly adaptable animals, but they can only handle so much."

We stand there in silence for a while, watching the leopards go about their day. It's peaceful, in a way that I haven't experienced in a long time. For a moment, I can almost forget about the Kingdom, about the weight of responsibility on our shoulders. It's just me and Tasha, watching these beautiful creatures exist.

Eventually, we tear ourselves away from the big cats and start wandering towards the primate exhibits. As we walk, Tasha pulls out a granola bar from her bag, offering me half.

"Thanks," I say, taking the offered snack. "I'm starving."

"Well, we have been walking around for a couple of hours," Tasha points out. "Want to grab lunch after we check out the primates?"

I nod, my stomach growling in agreement. "Sounds good to me. As long as it's not bug-themed."

Tasha laughs, elbowing me gently. "Don't worry, I'll save the entomophagy lecture for another day."

As we approach the primate area, I can't help but notice the increased noise level. There's a group of kids on what looks like a field trip, all clustered around the gorilla exhibit. Their excited chatter fills the air, a stark contrast to the quiet we've been experiencing for most of the morning.

We hang back, waiting for the crowd to thin out a bit before approaching the enclosure. The gorillas inside seem largely unbothered by all the attention, going about their business with an air of quiet dignity.

"You know," Tasha says, her voice pitched low so as not to disturb the animals, "gorillas are actually incredibly intelligent. They can learn sign language, use tools, and even understand complex emotions like empathy."

I nod, watching as one of the gorillas carefully peels a banana. "They seem so... human-like. It's kind of unsettling, honestly."

"That's because we're more closely related to them than you might think," Tasha explains. "We share about 98% of our DNA with gorillas. They're our closest living relatives after chimpanzees and bonobos."

As we watch, one of the younger gorillas approaches the glass, studying us with curious eyes. I find myself holding my breath, struck by the intelligence in its gaze. For a moment, it feels like we're looking at each other as equals, two sentient beings trying to understand one another across an impossible divide.

Then the moment passes, and the gorilla loses interest, wandering back to join its family group. I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, feeling strangely shaken.

"You okay?" Tasha asks, giving me a concerned look.

I nod, trying to shake off the weird feeling. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... that was intense, you know?"

She nods, understanding in her eyes. "Yeah, I know what you mean. It's like looking in a mirror sometimes, isn't it? Seeing how similar we are to them."

We move on to the other primate exhibits, checking out the various monkeys and apes. Each species is fascinating in its own way, from the acrobatic gibbons to the colorful mandrills. But none of them quite match the intensity of that moment with the gorilla.

As we're leaving the primate area, I spot another police officer making his rounds. He catches my eye and nods, his hand resting casually on his belt. I nod back, trying to look as innocent and un-suspicious as possible.

"So," I say to Tasha once we're out of earshot, "any theories on what the Kingdom might want with a zoo? Because I'm coming up blank here."

Tasha shrugs, looking as puzzled as I feel. "Honestly? I have no idea. Nothing we've seen so far seems particularly valuable or dangerous. Unless they're planning some kind of mass animal breakout, which seems... unlikely."

I snort at the mental image of Mrs. Xenograft leading an army of escaped zoo animals through the streets of Philadelphia. "Yeah, I don't think that's their style. Too chaotic, not enough profit."