"If sharks have been around for over 450 million years, why don't they have, like, laser beam eyes by now?" Maggie asks, spinning lazily in one of the mismatched office chairs we've collected for the Music Hall's main room.

  "That's not how evolution works," Tasha says without looking up from her laptop. "Species don't just keep acquiring new features forever. They develop adaptations based on environmental pressures."

  "Yeah, but 450 million years is a really long time," Maggie insists. "You'd think they'd have figured out lasers. Or telepathy. Or something cooler than just swimming and biting things."

  I snort, flipping through a printout of shark species that Jordan compiled for me. "As someone whose entire power set is basically 'swimming and biting things,' I'm feeling a little under the microscope right now."

  The six of us are scattered around what we've started calling the "research table" – actually just three folding tables pushed together in the middle of the Music Hall's main room. Jordan insisted on buying a massive whiteboard last month, which is now covered in their neat handwriting, categorizing everything we know about my powers and what we might be able to do with them.

  It's Monday afternoon, and after yesterday's brutal training session with Multiplex, I should probably be resting. But his challenge to better understand and apply my powers has been eating at me. Hence, emergency shark research session.

  "You do way more than just swimming and biting," Lily says, looking up from where she's sprawled on the floor, surrounded by library books. "You sense blood and stuff."

  "And grow teeth from your skin," Jordan adds from their position at the whiteboard. "Don't sell yourself short, Small. You can't even swim."

  "I can! I just don't!" I protest.

  In the corner, Amelia sits cross-legged on a chair, meticulously working on what looks like a patch of fabric with tweezers and a magnifying glass. She's been quieter than usual today, focused on whatever textile experiment she's running. The tip of her tongue sticks out slightly as she concentrates, which is kind of adorable for someone who's usually so composed.

  "Okay, so," I say, trying to get us back on track. "Multiplex thinks I'm limiting myself by not exploring the full potential of my powers. Apparently just growing shark teeth and sensing blood isn't creative enough."

  "He's not wrong," Jordan says, capping their marker. "Most powers have applications beyond the obvious. Even mine."

  "Yeah, as you keep telling me," I say, rolling my eyes. "Like that one time--"

  "Would you rather I'd gotten caught?" They smirk.

  "No, but--"

  "Anyway," Tasha interrupts, turning her laptop around to show us some kind of scientific diagram. "I think we should start by getting a better understanding of how actual shark powers work. Like, the whole blood-sensing thing. Did you know sharks can detect a single drop of blood in Olympic-sized pools of water? They don't just have a good sense of smell – they have specialized cells dedicated to detecting blood."

  "I definitely can't do that," I say, frowning. "I can sense blood through walls and stuff, but it's more like... I don't know, radar? Not smell."

  "Maybe you could develop it further," Maggie suggests. "Like, train yourself to detect smaller amounts of blood."

  Jordan taps their marker against the whiteboard thoughtfully. "I don't think it's about sensitivity. Based on our tests, you can already detect pretty minimal amounts. It's more about what information you're getting from the blood you sense."

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  "Well, when you sense blood, what exactly are you perceiving?" Jordan asks.

  I shrug. "Location, mostly. Like, I can tell where the bleeding person or animal is."

  "But remember how you described Jump users' blood as feeling 'carbonated'?" Jordan presses. "That suggests you're getting more information than just location. You might be unconsciously filtering out a lot of data."

  Tasha perks up at this. "That tracks with what we know about sensory processing. Your brain probably tries to interpret this extrasensory information using familiar frameworks."

  "English, please?" Lily says, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling.

  "She means your brain might be getting more information than you realize, but it's ignoring most of it because it doesn't know what to do with it," Maggie explains, surprising me with her quick understanding.

  "Exactly," Tasha says. "Like how you can see millions of colors but only have names for a few hundred. Your blood sense might be picking up all sorts of details – oxygen levels, cell types, pressure, hormones – but your conscious mind is only registering what it knows how to interpret."

  "Right, this is all stuff Multiplex already asked me about," I remind them. "He already gave me this spiel. Okay, cool, sharks are better at smelling blood than I am. I already did experiments with Dr. Harris a year ago to determine my, what was the word, my "parameters". What more can I learn?"

  "We could try some experiments," Tasha suggests. "I brought some blood samples—"

  "You what?" I interrupt, staring at her.

  Tasha rolls her eyes. "Relax, it's just some test tubes of my own blood. Mom let me draw it at home with her nursing kit. I was thinking we could test if you can detect differences in the same blood under different conditions."

  For the next twenty minutes, we run through various tests – Tasha adds sugar to one sample, dilutes another with water, heats a third, and so on. I close my eyes and try to sense any differences between them. The results are mixed. I can definitely tell that the samples feel different, but articulating exactly how is frustratingly difficult.

  "It's like... the sugary one feels thicker? Maybe stickier?" I try to explain, eyes still closed. "And the diluted one feels... thinner, more spread out. But it's not really a tactile sensation. It's just how my brain is interpreting it."

  "That's actually significant progress," Jordan says. "It means you are receiving additional data, even if you can't fully interpret it yet."

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  "What about the heated one?" Tasha asks.

  I focus on it, trying to put words to the strange perception. "It feels... looser? Like the diluted one. But differently. Differently looser."

  "That makes sense," Tasha nods. "Heat increases molecular movement. Maybe you're sensing the increased kinetic energy."

  We continue like this for a while, but I can tell we're approaching the limits of what we can accomplish in one sitting. This kind of perceptual development probably takes months or years of practice, not a single afternoon, and I'm starting to get a migraine.

  "Let's switch to teeth," Maggie suggests when we hit a wall with the blood sensing. "That seems more immediately useful anyway."

  "Agreed," Jordan says, erasing part of the whiteboard. "So far, Sam, you've only grown shark teeth – specifically, what look like great white teeth. Triangular, serrated. But sharks have all kinds of different tooth shapes depending on species and function."

  Tasha pulls up some images on her laptop. "Yep. Check these out."

  She shows us pictures of various shark teeth – some flat and plate-like, others curved and needle-thin, some shaped like Christmas trees, others like spikes or tiny combs.

  "Tiger sharks have these notched teeth that are really good at cutting," she explains. "Cookie-cutter sharks have these wild circular lower teeth that work like a hole-punch. Nurse sharks have these tiny, densely-packed teeth for crushing shells."

  "So theoretically, I could grow different shapes?" I ask, studying the images.

  "Why not?" Jordan shrugs. "Your power gives you shark teeth. There are lots of different shark teeth. No reason to limit yourself to just one type."

  I flex my hand, focusing on the knuckles where I've grown teeth before. I try to visualize something different – a row of small, flat crushing teeth like a nurse shark.

  Nothing happens.

  I try again, concentrating harder, picturing the teeth in detail. I feel the familiar tingling that precedes tooth growth, but when they emerge, they're the same old serrated triangles I always produce.

  "Damn it," I mutter.

  "Don't force it," Amelia says suddenly from her corner, not looking up from her fabric project. "The harder you try, the less it works."

  "What do you mean?" I ask, looking over at her.

  She sighs and puts down her tweezers. "I've been working on creating a fabric with anomalous properties for weeks now. I can make amazing things when I'm not thinking about it – clothes that resist damage, materials that shouldn't be possible – but the second I try to consciously control the process, I get normal fabric. It's maddening."

  "So what, I should just... not think about it?" I ask skeptically.

  "Not exactly," she says. "It's more like... you have to approach it sideways. Don't try to grow specific teeth. Try changing something else about how you use your power, and see what happens naturally."

  "What else can sharks do?" I ask, feeling a vague, nauseous mixture of excitement and misery well up behind my sternum. I keep slowly popping teeth out like a little conveyor belt, but none of them really seem to change their shape at all. It's really annoying!

  Tasha scrolls through her research. "Well, there's a ton. Sharks have this thing called electroreception – they can sense the electrical fields generated by other animals' muscle movements. They have specialized organs called ampullae of Lorenzini that detect even tiny electromagnetic fields."

  "I definitely don't have that," I say. "At least, I don't think I do."

  "What about the lateral line system?" Tasha suggests. "Sharks have these pressure-sensitive cells running along their sides that let them detect movement and vibration in the water."

  "Definitely don't have that either."

  "Their skeletons are made of cartilage instead of bone," Lily offers from the floor, surprising me with her knowledge. "Makes them more flexible or something."

  "My bones are definitely bones," I say. "Although they do heal really quickly."

  Tasha keeps scrolling. "Oh, here's something interesting – shark skin. It's not smooth like other fish. It's covered in these tiny structures called dermal denticles. They're actually made of the same material as teeth."

  "Wait, what?" I lean over to see her screen.

  "Yeah, they're like millions of microscopic teeth covering their skin," she explains, showing me a magnified image. "They reduce drag in water and also provide protection. They're so rough that touching a shark in the wrong direction can actually cut your hand. Wait, didn't we talk about this before like... two years ago?"

  "You probably remember better than I do," I chuckle. "I've taken too many blows to the noggin. Denticles... Scutes! We were talking about scutes?"

  "Those are for turtles!" Lily shouts, jolting up from the floor like she has something to contribute to the conversation.

  Recollection flashes across Tasha's face. "Yeah, scutes. You don't have scutes. You might have denticles."

  "Would those count as part of your shark powers?" Maggie asks, spinning in her chair again.

  I shrug. "Maybe? I've never tried to grow teeth all over my skin. Sounds painful."

  "Most power manifestations involve some discomfort," Jordan points out. "Doesn't mean it's not worth exploring."

  "I'll add it to the list," I say, not particularly eager to turn my entire body into sandpaper. "What else?"

  "They have amazing livers," Tasha says, clicking to another page. "Super efficient at processing toxins. That might explain your resistance to drugs and alcohol."

  "And why I can drink saltwater," I add, remembering one of the few shark facts I actually knew already.

  "Right, they have special rectal glands and kidney functions that help with salt balance," Tasha confirms, then makes a face. "Sorry, that sounded gross."

  "No grosser than growing teeth out of my skin," I say with a laugh. "I don't piss salt crystals, if that's what you're wondering,"

  "Ew," Jordan mumbles, not looking me in the eye.

  We continue like this for another half hour, going through every shark adaptation we can find and checking whether I might have some version of it. Most are clear nos, but a few – like the toxin processing – seem to map onto abilities I already know I have.

  While we're discussing the possibility of whether I might be able to enhance my regeneration (sharks can't regrow limbs, but their wound healing is impressively fast), Jordan's phone pings with a notification.

  "Update from Chambers & Woo," they say, scanning the message. "They've found a technolect willing to help with the encrypted data, but they need a federal warrant to legally perform the decryption."

  "A what-o-lect?" Maggie asks.

  "Technolect. Someone whose powers relate specifically to technology," Jordan explains. "This one apparently specializes in encryption and digital systems. With their help, we could potentially crack the Kingdom files within a week or two instead of never."

  "And the warrant issue?" I ask.

  Jordan grimaces. "Under the Digital Security Act of 2017, powers-based decryption requires legal authorization unless there's imminent threat to life. Unauthorized decryption carries hefty fines and potential jail time."

  "Great, so we're stuck waiting for the wheels of justice to turn," I mutter.

  "Not necessarily," Jordan says. "Chambers & Woo are exploring options. They might be able to get a friendly judge to sign off based on the evidence we already have. It'll just take time."

  "Time we might not have," I point out. "Speaking of which, have you started the lease transfer paperwork? I know you're leaving in like, three weeks."

  "Already handled," Jordan says, waving dismissively. "The landlord just needs your signature and to talk to you about something something voidable contracts. Come meet with him at the end of the week. I'll set something up."

  "I still can't believe you're going to MIT," Lily says, sitting up from her position on the floor. "Are you going to, like, build a death ray or something?"

  Jordan smirks. "It's an internship with the Department of Applied Anomalous Sciences, not a supervillain academy. I'll be helping study how superpowers interact with established physics."

  "So... yes on the death ray?" Maggie asks with a grin.

  "I can't guarantee I won't," Jordan says, but there's a hint of a smile.

  The conversation drifts for a while, with Tasha and Jordan diving into a deep discussion about the biochemistry of my blood sense while Maggie periodically interrupts with increasingly outlandish suggestions for tooth applications. ("Could you grow a tooth key to pick locks?" "What about tooth wheels to rollerblade on?" "Tooth wings? Tooth knife?")

  Eventually, I check the time and realize I need to get going. Multiplex is expecting me for another training session, and after yesterday's breakthrough with the jaw-clenching technique, I'm actually looking forward to seeing what else we might discover.

  "I've gotta head out," I announce, gathering my things. "Training with Multiplex."

  "Ooh, the hot boxer guy," Maggie says, waggling her eyebrows.

  I make a face. "He's like, forty."

  "So?"

  "So gross, Maggie. He's my teacher." I shoulder my backpack. "Anyway, thanks for all the shark facts. I feel like I've got some new things to try."

  "You want company on the walk over?" Jordan asks, their tone casual but eyes watchful. We're all more cautious about moving around the city alone these days, especially with the surveillance we've noticed.

  "Nah, it's broad daylight. I'll be fine."