"Does anyone else think it's weird how quickly this happened after we hit the Sunoco station?" Tasha asks suddenly, looking up from her screen. "I mean, the timing feels... deliberate."

  I hadn't considered that. "You think they accelerated their timeline because of us?"

  "It would make sense," Gossamer says slowly. "Dead Drop was there. She saw us. If she reported back to Monkey Business about the raid..."

  "They might have pushed up their plans," I finish. "Trying to stay one step ahead."

  "Or it could just be coincidence," Blink's voice comes from the doorway. We all turn to see her entering with several large paper bags, the smell of Chinese food wafting from them. "While you three were busy strategizing, I was busy being actually useful."

  "Food!" Maggie exclaims, immediately perking up even further.

  "Not just food," Blink says, setting the bags on the table. "Information."

  That gets our full attention. "What kind of information?" I ask.

  "The kind you get when your parents run a restaurant frequented by police officers," Blink says with a smug smile. "Turns out, several cops involved in monitoring the Rogue Wave recruitment today are regular customers at the Golden Panda Buffet."

  "And they just... told you what happened?" Gossamer asks skeptically.

  Blink rolls her eyes. "No, they talked to my parents, who talked to me. Plus, I might have lingered near their table while refilling water glasses."

  "Sneaky," I approve. "So what did you learn?"

  "Police tracked candidates to twelve different locations throughout the day," Blink says, unpacking containers of food as she speaks. "They made three arrests – all for minor offenses like trespassing – but most participants managed to stay just on this side of legal. The scavenger hunt ended about an hour ago, with the remaining candidates converging on what they believe was a final selection site."

  "Where?" I ask, leaning forward.

  "An empty office floor in One Liberty Place," Blink replies. "Very upscale. Police couldn't get inside without a warrant, and by the time they had enough probable cause, everyone was gone."

  "That's bold," Gossamer comments. "Using one of the most recognizable buildings in Philadelphia for their final selection."

  "Hiding in plain sight," I mutter. "Classic Monkey Business. Always with the showmanship."

  "Any names on who made it to the final round?" Tasha asks eagerly.

  Blink shakes her head. "Nothing concrete. Just that there were maybe five finalists who made it that far. Police have absolutely nothing on them – no names, no descriptions beyond 'civilians with science backgrounds.' It's like they vanished into thin air."

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  "They're covering their tracks," I say grimly. "Making sure there's no trail to follow."

  "So we've got nothing," Maggie says, her earlier enthusiasm deflating. "Zilch. Nada."

  "We have locations," Tasha counters. "Twelve of them. That's something."

  "It's breadcrumbs," I say, accepting a plate of lo mein from Blink. "But better than nothing. We can check them out, see if they left anything behind."

  As we eat, discussing theories and possibilities, I find my mind drifting back to that strange dream. The endless concrete hallways, the filing cabinets, Liberty Belle's cryptic comments. It meant nothing, I'm sure – just random neurons firing in my exhausted brain. But something about it lingers, a vague uneasiness I can't quite shake.

  "Sam? You still with us?" Gossamer's voice pulls me back to the present.

  "Yeah, sorry. Just thinking."

  "About?" she prompts.

  I shake my head. "Nothing important. Weird dreams."

  She gives me a look that says she doesn't quite believe me, but doesn't press further. Instead, she turns to Tasha. "So, with Rogue Wave seemingly off the immediate radar, where do we focus next?"

  "We've still got the Kingdom to worry about," I point out. "Maya Richardson's been awfully quiet since the Stheno warehouse went up in smoke. And her anti-vigilante legislation is still gathering steam."

  "And don't forget Argus Corps," Maggie adds. "They've been throwing their weight around all over the city."

  "And regular criminals!" Blink adds helpfully.

  "Right, those too," I say with a small smile. "The point is, just because we missed this round with Rogue Wave doesn't mean we're out of targets."

  "I'd love an opportunity to knock Argus Corps down a peg," I add, twirling noodles around my fork. "Just, you know, if it comes up."

  "One disaster at a time," Gossamer chides, but there's a hint of amusement in her voice.

  We continue eating in companionable silence for a moment, the weight of the day's events settling around us. We missed a major Rogue Wave operation, but we're not completely in the dark. We have locations, patterns, a direction to pursue. It's not a total loss.

  "So," Maggie says finally, breaking the silence. "What's our game plan for tonight? Please tell me we're actually going to do something and not just sit around watching HIRC feeds."

  I exchange glances with Gossamer, who gives me a small nod. "We're still recovering," I say carefully. "But that doesn't mean we can't do some careful recon."

  "Yes!" Maggie pumps her fist. "Thank you!"

  "Careful. That means not getting into fights. Literally just going, looking, and coming back," I emphasize, pinching an invisible string in the air and sort of drawing it out like I'm stretching gum. Care-ful. Caaaareful. "And in the meanwhile, I am going to maybe listen to your advice and take it easy for a night."

  "You haven't healed yet?" Maggie asks, raising an eyebrow in clear concern.

  I rub my temples with my fingers. "It's not that easy. A bunch of little injuries take longer for me to walk off than one big one. It's probably gonna take me like... a day or two for my throat alone. At least," I say, kind of unconsciously rubbing at the bruise marks.

  "Yeah, you've got those eye bags people get when they get choked too much," Gossamer adds. "Like, tiny little red freckles."

  "Petechiae," Tasha corrects. "Common in people who do autoerotic asphyxiation. Hopefully nothing Sam has experience with," she teases.

  "You what now?" I ask, trying to express disgruntlement as hard as possible with my face without making my neck hurt more. "What'd you just call me?"

  She waves her hand, cloying, like I didn't just hear her loud and clear. "Don't worry about it. You chill, I'm gonna get you a warm towel for your neck, alright?"

  I make a face at her that is sort of like :/, with my lip pursed to the side, but I am not interested in litigating any further. Maggie, on the other hand, is already basically out the door, noodles hanging out her mouth like... I don't know, I was thinking of an analogy but really only noodles are the thing people do that with, right?

  I find myself sighing dramatically. "Fine. Bring on the heat."