Chum

The clock on the wall ticks loudly in the silence as Rampart and I stand there, uncertain. Finally, Captain Plasma speaks, his voice carefully controlled.

"Well," he says, pushing off from the wall. "I suppose we should be grateful that Multiplex isn't here. He'd be chewing your ears off right about now."

Fury Forge snorts, a sound somewhere between amusement and frustration. "Yeah, well, maybe that's what they need. A good ear-chewing might knock some sense into them."

I bristle at that, opening my mouth to defend myself, but Rampart puts a hand on my shoulder, silently urging me to stay calm. He's right, of course. Getting defensive now won't help our case.

"We didn't mean to cause trouble," Rampart says, his voice steady. "We were just trying to help."

Fury Forge leans forward, her eyes narrowing. "Help? By beating up some street-level dealers? What exactly did you think you were going to accomplish?"

"We got information," I interject, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Important information about-"

"About what?" Fury Forge cuts me off. "About some low-level drug operation? Do you think that's worth risking your safety, your reputation, the reputation of this entire organization?"

I feel my face heating up, a mix of anger and embarrassment. "It wasn't just some drug operation. There was something else going on, something bigger. We-"

"Sam," Captain Plasma interrupts gently. "I know you think you were doing the right thing. But you have to understand the position you've put us in. What if those guys decide to press charges? Are you comfortable going to court to defend your actions? Your job is not to be judge, jury, and executioner."

The question hits me like a bucket of cold water. My mind races, trying to find a justification, an explanation that will make them understand my point of view. If I just find the right combination of words, they'll know what I meant to do, and they'll understand. "But they were criminals," I protest weakly. "They stabbed someone. That's how we found them in the first place."

Fury Forge's eyebrows shoot up. "So you punished them?"

A small squeak comes out of my mouth.

"Did you at least patch up the first guy?" Captain Plasma asks, sounding more exhausted than anything else.

"Yes," I mumble.

He nods at me. "Good job," he says, and it almost makes me feel better.

I want to argue, to explain that it wasn't like that at all, but the words die in my throat. I can explain this. I just need to find the right words and this can all be over. "They came at us first. We were being threatened," I try to say, but as soon as it comes out of me, Fury Forge's look dumps another bucket of ice over my head.

"Did you, or did you not, escalate an already volatile situation with people you knew were armed and willing to attack you? Yes or no," she says, and I can feel the period at the end of her sentence even if I can't imagine it in the constantly-running closed captions in my brain.

Rampart steps forward, drawing their attention. "It was my idea," he says firmly. "I take full responsibility. Sam was just following my lead."

I whirl on him, indignant. "That's not true! I was the one who-"

"It doesn't matter whose idea it was," Captain Plasma interrupts, his voice tinged with a gentle, painful frustration. "What matters is that it happened at all. You're supposed to be setting an example, for your fellow young superheroes and people your age in general. What kind of message would this send if someone recorded it? What sort of message does it send to your teammates?"

The silence that follows is deafening. I can feel the weight of their disappointment pressing down on me, making it hard to breathe. Part of me wants to keep arguing, to make them understand why we did what we did. If I chew my foot off enough times, I'm sure I can end this. Please. Please, G-d.

Fury Forge sighs heavily, rubbing her temples. "Look," she says, her voice softer now. "I get it. You're young, you're passionate, you want to make a difference. But this… this isn't the way to do it. We've been failing you kids, and that's on us. We should have been teaching you how to be real heroes, not just… super-powered thugs."

Her words sting, but there's a vulnerability in her tone that catches me off guard. I've never heard Fury Forge sound so… uncertain. It's unsettling, like seeing a crack in a foundation you thought was unshakeable.

"We've been so caught up in dealing with the aftermath of… everything," she continues, her eyes distant. "We haven't had time to focus on what really matters. Teaching you how to use your skills responsibly, how to investigate, how to think before you act."

Captain Plasma nods, his expression softening slightly. "They told me Diane was handling a lot of that. While everyone else had their nose in the criminal stuff. And…" He trails off, letting me finish the sentence in my head.

I feel a lump forming in my throat. I want to say something, to reassure them that we're not complete failures, that we have learned something. But before I can find the words, Rampart speaks up.

"You're right," he says quietly. "We should have known better. I should have known better. As the leader of the Young Defenders, it's my responsibility to set a good example. I failed in that tonight."

His admission seems to take some of the wind out of Fury Forge's sails. She slumps back in her chair, looking more tired than ever. "It's not just on you, kid. We all dropped the ball here. Ugh, I can't believe I'm saying this, but maybe we need to take a step back, reevaluate how we're doing things."

Captain Plasma nods thoughtfully. "You might be right. But for now…" He turns to us, his expression serious. "We need to deal with the immediate fallout of this. You said you got some important information? Let's hear it."

I take a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "Right. So, we were questioning these guys about their operation, trying to figure out who was really behind the Jump distribution. And then I mentioned Rogue Wave."

The change in the room is immediate. Captain Plasma stands up straighter, his eyes sharpening with interest. Fury Forge leans forward, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten.

"Rogue Wave?" she repeats. "The thing Sparkplug was ranting about?"

"Right, I never forgot about it," I explain quickly. "I didn't think much of it at the time, but…" I hesitate, unsure how to describe what happened next.

Rampart picks up the thread. "When Sam mentioned Rogue Wave, one of the guys we were questioning… changed. It was like he was possessed or something. He broke out of his restraints and tried to attack Sam. It took both of us to subdue him. His wrists were bleeding afterwards, I checked him - he just snapped right through the zip ties."

Captain Plasma and Fury Forge exchange a loaded glance. "Possessed…" Captain Plasma says slowly.

"Mmm," Fury Forge hums, her brow scrunched. "I don't think you should make a habit of carrying around zip ties as a civilian but we'll deal with that later. For now, it's possible we have a mind controller running around, and that's… bad,"

Mind controller. The thought makes me intensely uncomfortable - makes the skin on the back of my neck feel like it wants to crawl off. I can almost see the gears turning in their heads, piecing together this new information with whatever they already know.

"This is concerning," Captain Plasma finally says, after way too long. "If there's some kind of mind control or conditioning at play here, it could be far more serious than we initially thought."

Fury Forge nods grimly. "We need to look into this. Carefully. And properly." She fixes us with a stern look. "Which means no more unauthorized patrols or vigilante justice. Understood?"

Rampart and I nod, chastened but also relieved. At least they're taking our information seriously.

"Good," Fury Forge continues. "Because as of now, the Young Defenders are grounded. Not in the 'you're in trouble' sense, but in the 'you're not flying anywhere' sense. We need to reevaluate our approach, figure out where we went wrong and how to fix it."

"But-" I start to protest, but Captain Plasma holds up a hand.

"No buts, Sam. This is for your own safety as much as anything else. Whatever's going on with this Rogue Wave business, it's clearly dangerous. We can't risk sending you kids out there unprepared, especially if there's someone out there operating with mind control powers. What if they got to you? At least us old folks have already burnt through most of our good time. You two have the rest of your superhero careers - and your normal lives - to think about. Don't let it be tainted by a mind controller making you accessory to something heinous."

I want to argue, to point out that we've faced dangerous situations before. But I can see in their faces that this decision is final. And if I'm being honest with myself, a small part of me is relieved. The memory of Jackie's blank, murderous stare is still fresh in my mind, and the thought of facing something like that again without understanding what we're up against is… unsettling. The sort of blankness in a dog's face, the fighting dogs Jordan and I rescued early on in our vigilante careers. When they don't know how to do anything else but attack.

Rampart nods, accepting the decision with his usual stoic grace. "We understand. What do you want us to do in the meantime?"

Fury Forge stands up, stretching out her muscular arms. "For now? Go home. Get some rest. We'll regroup tomorrow and start working on a new training regimen. One that focuses on the non-fighting parts, critical thinking, and responsible use of your powers."

"And Sam?" Captain Plasma adds, his voice gentler now. "I know Bulwark and Crossroads would probably be disappointed if they were here. But they'd also be proud of you for owning up to your mistakes and trying to make things right."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The emotional whiplash of the past few hours is starting to catch up with me, leaving me feeling drained and a little lost.

As we turn to leave, Fury Forge calls out one last time. "Oh, and kids? Next time you promise to bring someone a hoagie, try to actually follow through. I think we could all use a little comfort food right about now."

I can't help but smile a little, but it comes out weird when one of my tooth caps catches on my lip and pulls itself off. I spend a couple of awkward seconds re-adjusting it. And then I smile again.

As Rampart and I make our way out of the headquarters, the weight of everything that's happened tonight settles over us like a heavy blanket. We walk in silence for a while, each lost in our own thoughts.

Finally, as we reach the point where we'll have to part ways, Rampart turns to me. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and concerned.

I shrug, not sure how to answer. "I don't know," I admit. "Are you?"

He lets out a long breath. "Not really. But we'll figure it out. We always do."

I nod, grateful for his steady presence. "Yeah. We will."

He walks away.

The street stretches out before me, quiet and familiar in the late-night calm. Somewhere out there, Jackie is probably waking up, confused and disoriented. Somewhere, the other guys we confronted are nursing their bruises, hopefully reconsidering their life choices. And somewhere, lurking in the shadows, is a mystery that needs solving.

As I round the corner onto my street, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a darkened shop window. For a moment, I see myself as others might see me - just a kid in a hoodie, looking a little lost and a lot tired. But then I blink, and I see something else. I'm not sure what it is, but it's not a kid in a hoodie.