Chum

Just as I'm about to leave, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Crossroads standing there, his expression unreadable as always.

"Sam," he says quietly. "A word?"

I nod, following him to a quiet corner of the room. He's flipping that coin again, the soft thapp of metal on skin oddly soothing in the midst of all this chaos.

"You did good," he says finally, his eyes meeting mine. "I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but you've given us a real chance here."

I swallow hard, fighting back the sudden lump in my throat. "Thanks," I manage. "I just… I wish I could have done more."

He shakes his head. "You did plenty. More than we had any right to ask of you."

I nod, then hesitate. There's something I've been wanting to ask, but I'm not sure how. Finally, I just blurt it out. "Where's Connor? Is he in trouble because of what happened at the club?"

Crossroads's expression softens slightly. "No, he's not in trouble. He's…" he pauses, flipping the coin one more time and checking it before continuing. "He's meeting with his potential new foster parents today."

I blink, surprised. "Foster parents? But I thought…"

"It's been in the works for a while," Crossroads explains. "We've been trying to find a more stable situation for him. Looks like we might have finally succeeded."

I nod slowly, a mix of emotions swirling in my chest. Happy for Connor, of course. He deserves a real home, a family. But also… sad? Jealous? I'm not even sure. It feels like everything's changing so fast, and I can't quite keep up. Like everything's moving too fast.

"That's… that's good," I say finally. "I'm glad."

Crossroads studies me for a moment, then nods. "It is good. Change can be hard, but it's necessary. For all of us."

I nod again, not trusting myself to speak. He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze, then turns to rejoin the others.

As I step out into the hallway, I bump into Blink, who is apparently just sort of waiting for me. She quickly pulls herself to her feet, her skates skidding against the ground sideways, a big smile on her face that's only mostly masking the worry.

"Bee! I felt totally useless in there. Like I was just sitting and waiting for the grown-ups to finish talking," she says all at once, giving me a quick arm-squeeze that she disguises as helping herself to her feet. "You were all brave and like, spycraft-y."

"I…" I start to thank her? Comfort her? I don't even know what to say. I guess I should find out if she actually feels that way first, or if it's just a comfort thing. "I think I did at least… like, two thirds useless things for every third of useful thing."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," she says. "You were awesome. You're like a real spy now!"

I can't help but laugh at that. "I don't know about that. I think I'm more like… a real sneak. A real eavesdropper."

She grins, falling into step beside me as we head for the elevators. "Still counts. It's all part of the job, right?"

"I guess so," I say, pushing the down button. "I just wish I could have found out more. Something concrete we could use."

Blink nods, her expression turning more serious. "I know. But you did what you could. And that's all any of us can do, really."

As I make my way out of the building, my mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The weight of everything we discussed, the implications of what we're up against… it's almost too much to process. But underneath it all, I know what I'm going to have to do.

Violence.

I'm sitting cross-legged on my bed, phone pressed to my ear as I recount the events of the past few days to Akilah. My fingers absently trace the stitches on my arm as I speak, the tender skin throbbing dully with each tap.

"…so that's the situation," I conclude, letting out a long breath. "We've got leads, but nothing concrete yet. The Kingdom's being careful."

There's a pause on the other end of the line, the crackle of static filling the silence. Akilah has never been one for small talk.

"Sounds messy," she says finally, her voice as no-nonsense as I remember. "You sure you kids can handle this?"

I bristle slightly at the implication, my shoulders tensing. "We're not just kids, Akilah. In case you haven't noticed, we've been doing this for a while now."

Another pause. I can almost picture her expression, that slight furrow of the brow, the thin line of her lips. A puff of air escapes her - some sort of laugh.

"You'll always be kids to me," she says, bluntly. "Do you have it under control, or are you calling because you need me?"

I open my mouth to respond, to assure her that we have everything under control. "Just… calling to keep you in the loop," I say, choosing my words carefully. "I was hoping you and Playback could keep your ears to the ground, see if you pick up anything we might have missed."

"We're already doing that," she says, a hint of irritation creeping into her tone. "You don't have to ask us to do our jobs."

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. "Alright, noted. But I was also… you know…" I trail off, unsure of how to phrase it.

There's a heavy silence on the other end, fraught with unspoken meaning. Finally, Akilah sighs.

"You were checking in," she says, her voice softening ever so slightly. "Making sure we're still breathing."

I nod, then remember she can't see me. "Something like that," I mumble, feeling my cheeks heat up.

To my surprise, she chuckles. "I get it, Sam. You're allowed to be concerned about Playback."

I blink a couple of times and then feel a scowl forming itself against my will. "I'm concerned about you."

"Sure thing, kid," she says, clearly humoring me. "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

I open my mouth to argue, but she cuts me off.

"Look, I appreciate you looking out for us. Really. But we can handle ourselves." There's a pause, and then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "We're not exactly teenagers anymore."

I bristle again at the implication. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounds like," she says, her voice gaining an edge. "The whole superhero gig… it's great when you're a kid, you know? Playing cops and robbers, fighting bad guys, saving the day. But eventually, you have to grow up."

I feel my jaw clench involuntarily. "Is that what you think we're doing? Playing as cops?"

"Not at all," she says, backtracking slightly. "I know you take this seriously. Too seriously, sometimes. But there comes a point where you have to ask yourself - is this really what you want to be doing for the rest of your life?"

I don't respond, not immediately.

"That's why I left, you know," she continues when I don't respond. "The whole Registered Superhuman Entity thing, jumping through government hoops, playing by their rules… it just wasn't for me anymore."

"You left because you didn't want to play by the rules?" I ask, unable to keep the skepticism out of my voice. "I thought it was because of the personality disorder."

She laughs, a short, sharp sound. "I prefer to think of it as taking my destiny into my own hands. No more bureaucracy, no more red tape. Just me, doing what needs to be done."

"Sounds dangerous," I say quietly.

"It is," she agrees, her tone sobering. "But so is everything we do. At least this way, I'm calling my own shots."

I nod slowly, considering her words. Part of me envies her certainty, her conviction. But another part of me wonders if she's just running from her responsibilities.

"So, what?" I ask finally. "You're just going to ditch the whole 'Puppeteer' thing? Start over with a new identity?"

"Something like that," she confirms. "I was thinking of going by 'Marionette' instead. Seemed fitting."

I snort before I can stop myself. "Little on the nose, don't you think?"

"Maybe," she concedes. "But at least it's honest. No more pretending to be something I'm not."

There's a weight to her words that I can't quite put my finger on. A weariness, a sense of resignation. It makes me inexplicably sad.

"We all have to grow up sometime," She says, quietly.

I find myself humming in agreement. "Yeah. I guess we do."

We lapse into silence, the crackling of the line the only sound between us. It stays that way for a couple of uncomfortable minutes, neither one of us hanging up.

Finally, Akilah speaks again. "Listen, I gotta go. Got some… business to take care of."

I nod, even though she can't see me. "Okay. Just… be careful, okay?"

She snorts. "Always am. You too, kid. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

I can't help but laugh at that. "That doesn't exactly narrow it down."

"Exactly," she says, and I can hear the grin in her voice. "Take care of yourself, Sam. And if you ever need anything…"

"Yeah, I know," I reply. "Take care."

"You too," she says. The line goes dead.