The Slippery Slope Pt 3 (Patreon)

Blackwell

The first day of school after the Christmas break was always a madhouse. High spirits came out over the holidays, and were not always completely exhausted by the beginning of January classes. However, Carrie Blackwell had not expected this amount of uproar in the corridors, especially not at this hour of the school day.

She looked up from the paperwork on her desk – an amendment to the Act which allowed Wards to work out of schools – as the noise got nearer, or louder, or both. It sounded as though a positive mob were loose in the halls. Taking the paperwork from her desk and locking it in a drawer – it would not do for the wrong people to find out that Winslow was harbouring a Ward – she rose, preparatory to going out and finding exactly what was happening.

If people really want detentions this early in the year, then by God, I will oblige them.

However, she had barely made it around the desk before the door burst open. Taylor Hebert came first, half-supported by a boy who was unfamiliar to Blackwell. Following on were Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes; the track star was struggling grimly in the grip of two shaven-headed Empire Eighty-Eight boys, while the Barnes girl was being dragged along by an older girl, one of the seniors. A foul stench arose in the office; the immediate cause appeared to be the Hebert girl, as she was covered in reeking garbage from the thighs on down, and vomit from the chest on down. The boy with her had some of both on him; it didn't seem to bother him.

Several more students piled into the office, but thankfully stopped before the crush became too intense. Carrie blanched, recoiling from the smell as much as the sudden incursion.

“What in God's name is this all about?” she exclaimed. “Miss Hebert! What are you doing? And why are you covered in muck?”

Taylor Hebert, white-faced but with her lips pressed together in determination, leaned on the boy's supporting arm. “Principal Blackwell,” she ground out. “You might recall a few allegations of bullying, that were handed in a while ago? Ones that you tore up in front of me?”

Blackwell blinked. She was suddenly starting to regret that somewhat-hasty action. “I – well – there was no proof -”

“Well, how about this?” Taylor pointed to the trash clinging to her legs. “Does this look like proof to you? How much more proof do you fucking need?”

“I - “ Blackwell tried to rally. “What's happened? And why are you holding those two girls? Release them immediately.”

“No.” Taylor's voice was cold and hard. Blackwell recoiled again, from the look of utter loathing in her eyes. “They did this to me. You will call the fucking cops, and you will have them fucking arrested, right the fuck now!”

Blackwell's eyes flicked to Sophia Hess, who glared back at her. Fractionally, Hess shook her head. You don't want to do that. Emma Barnes looked more frightened than angry, but she didn't want it to happen either. Fix this, her eyes told Blackwell. Fix this.

Carrie Blackwell drew a deep breath, and played her last card. It was a weak one, but she played it for all she was worth. “All I see is two girls being held against their will, and a known troublemaker, in the company of members of a white-supremacist gang who recently beat up one of the girls in question, throwing unfounded allegations. I'll need more than that.”

And then one of the other boys in the room cleared his throat. Blackwell looked his way; she vaguely recalled giving him a suspension in the weeks leading up to the Christmas break, following a complaint from Sophia Hess that he had been deliberately jostling her in the corridors. He pulled out his phone, and held it up so that she could see. A video file started playing; as she watched, ice formed around her heart.

The image was shaky and the phone itself had obviously been held up over the heads of a crowd, so the picture quality was imperfect. But it was good enough. It was good enough to see Taylor approaching her locker and exchanging words with Emma. She couldn't make out the conversation, but she could see when Taylor went to her locker, pulled a few photos down, and opened it. There was something in the locker; Blackwell could not make it out, but Taylor began to bend over, as if to examine it.

Due to the picture quality, Sophia's form was a blur when she first approached Taylor, but the image of her shoving the skinnier girl into the locker was impossible to mistake. And then Emma moved forward, slamming the door on her. Blackwell could not see what happened next, but the shouts and screams from within the locker were easily discernible, even over the crowd noise.

The boy shut the footage off, and turned to Taylor with a slight bow. Taylor nodded back to him, then turned to Blackwell. “We can show you the locker, if you like,” she informed the principal. “If you want more proof.” The emphasis Taylor put on the last word showed Carrie just how much she thought of her, and her stalling tactics. “Or we can just give this to the news. See how that runs.” See how long you keep your job after that, she didn't have to say.

Principal Blackwell shook her head. “No,” she conceded, her voice sounding distant even in her own ears. “You've made your point.”

Lifting the phone, she dialled 9-1-1.

Ward or no, lawyer's daughter or no, I don't need trouble like this in my school.

<><>

Piggot

Emily Piggot leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a slight smile. Her leg muscles weren't giving her trouble, and she had yet to field a single troublesome phone call. Parahuman criminal activity had been slightly down over the Christmas period, compared to previous years, and PRT recruitment was experiencing a slight uptick. Clockblocker hadn't even been caught saying anything remotely rude to the news crews yet, although that was only a matter of time.

However, she refused to allow herself to even consider the concept that this might be turning out to be a good day. She'd had that thought before, and had paid for it in full before the day was over.

And then the phone rang.

She eyed it cautiously, as if it were a venomous snake.

Emily Piggot wasn't a parahuman; she had tested negative for even the possibility of triggering with parahuman abilities. But right at that moment, she had a sudden flash of intuition that told her that she did not want to pick up that phone.

However, she was Director, and thus, as Director, sometimes she had to take the bullet.

It rang again.

She drew a deep breath, and picked up the phone. “Piggot.”

"Ma'am, this is Captain Jensen; I'm the watch commander. We just got a hit on the police scanner. There's been a call-out to Winslow High, regarding an assault. The name Sophia Hess came up."

"Oh Christ," muttered Piggot. "Again? I thought she was better at watching her back than that. How badly is she injured?" If we have to call on Panacea again ...

"Uh, not at all, that I know of, ma'am," Jensen told her. "The call seemed to indicate that Hess was one of the perpetrators."

Piggot paused. Jensen didn't know, officially, that Sophia Hess was the Ward known as Shadow Stalker. But the system was set up so that if any of the Wards' civilian identities was mentioned on the police band, it would throw up a flag in the PRT watch centre.

However, certain officers in the chain of command at the Brockon Bay Police Department also knew that certain names were more important than they seemed. And so Emily should have already gotten notification, even before the all-points went out. Which was a question that she was going to have to address. However, right now, she had to ascertain the extent of the damage.

"Did any cape names come up?" she asked. Was her cape identity involved? Or worse, exposed?

"Uh, no, ma'am," Jensen replied. "No cape names at all. Just Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes as the perpetrators."

"Barnes, Barnes," mused Piggot. "I know that name from somewhere." There was a beep in her ear, and a light popped up on her phone. "Good work, Jensen. I've got a call on another line. Keep me apprised, and get someone to chase up the name Barnes. It's come up before."

"Will do, ma'am."

Piggot cut the call, then hit the button for the next call. It was coming in from an outside line, and was being routed straight to her phone. There were few who had that number; among these were the Brockton Bay Police Commissioner, the Mayor, and the principals of each of the local high schools in which the Wards were being educated. She recognised the number as belonging to Winslow High.

That would be ... Blackwell. Finally, she chooses to get in contact.

"Piggot here," she stated curtly. "What's going on over there?"

"What's going on," Blackwell told her even more curtly, "is that I've just called the police to have your precious fucking Sophia Hess, as well as her friend Emma Barnes, arrested and charged for assault and god knows what else. They will both be expelled from Winslow just as soon as I can get the paperwork processed through."

Piggot blinked. "Wait. Walk me through this. Who did they assault? Isn't expulsion a little bit of a strong penalty for a first offence?"

"Director Piggot," Blackwell snarled, "Miss Hess and Miss Barnes plastered the locker of another girl with highly offensive material, as well as filling it with toxic waste. Then, when she opened the locker, Sophia Hess shoved her into it, Emma Barnes closed the door, and they locked her in."

Piggot was dumbfounded. "And you know for a fact that it was her ...?" she began hopefully.

"Because someone filmed it on their phone!" snapped Blackwell. "And you can bet that footage is making the rounds!"

“So confiscate the phone,” Piggot suggested automatically. “You're the principal.”

“And they're the Empire Eighty-Eight!” retorted Blackwell. “Yes, I'm the principal. But I am neither stupid nor suicidal. They are holding the girls, outside my office, waiting for the police to arrive and make the appropriate arrests.”

“Wait, hold on a moment,” Piggot protested. “What do the Empire Eighty-Eight have to do with an assault case that they didn't even perpetrate?”

“Because the assault happened to a girl who was friendly with one of their members, is the best answer I can get at the moment,” Blackwell told her.

There was something Blackwell wasn't saying; Piggot's instincts kicked in. “Wait a minute. Is this even a first offence?”

Blackwell sighed. “Apparently not. I'm told there is firm evidence that this has been ongoing for over a year.”

Piggot's jaw clenched. “And you didn't do anything about it.”

“I didn't know about it!” protested the principal. “Nothing credible was reported to me!”

“Nothing … credible?” If the word had been an object, Piggot would have been handling it with thick rubber gloves. “Unless I miss my guess, that's code for I didn't want to know, so I didn't listen too hard. Or am I mistaken?”

“Oh, Christ!" snapped Blackwell. “Listen. I run the biggest school in Brockton Bay. All three gangs actively recruit here. Not a day goes by that people aren't beaten up, either on the premises or off. We don't go into some areas alone, for fear of what we might find there. We need all the funding we can get, just so we can get by. So when Sophia Hess joined the Wards, it was a huge shot in the arm for us. Your handler has been working closely with me; any time we heard anything untoward about her activities in the school, I passed it on to her. I never got any reply back, so I figured it was all fine.”

“I've never had anything untoward reported to me,” Piggot replied slowly.

There was a long pause on the line. Then Blackwell continued. “I … can't answer to that. She never caused much trouble. Never got into fights, not until recently. Friendly, outgoing, good on the track. Very competitive. Very few incidents worth speaking about. When she joined the Wards, we passed those on to your handler, but I guess they were settled, because nothing came back to me about them.”

Piggot scribbled a memo to herself before she spoke again. “It was never settled, because I never heard about them. When you heard nothing back, you should have checked with me.”

“If I double-checked everything everyone said to me, I'd never get any work done. And meanwhile, it's your fucking Ward who's just unleashed a shit-ton of trouble on my school!”

“If Hess was causing problems for more than a year, then it started on your fucking watch,” Piggot snapped back. “We only brought her into the Wards in October!”

“Well, I want her out of my school,” Blackwell told her. “The funding we're getting for her isn't worth the bad publicity or the lawsuits that we're likely to get because of what she's done today.”

“Fine, we'll pull her,” Piggot agreed. “But understand this; she committed this crime in her civilian identity, so the PRT and Protectorate don't ever show up on any of the paperwork. We're not a part of this.”

“Okay, fine,” Blackwell agreed. “But what about the Barnes girl?”

“What about her?” Piggot didn't care about the Barnes girl. She wasn't a PRT problem.

“She was in on it, too. And her father's a lawyer.”

At that moment, a message popped up on Piggot's computer, and she automatically scanned it. Her head fell back as she breathed out. It was all starting to make sense now.

“Yeah, so I see,” she told Blackwell. “I just got the notation. Her father was the one who represented Hess at the hearing that got her into the Wards, rather than juvey. So a popular girl, whose father is a lawyer, along with another pretty girl who's a track star. No wonder there weren't many complaints against them that you were willing to act on. Especially after Shadow Stalker got into the Wards.”

“I resent the implication,” Blackwell retorted, but it was weak.

“Yeah, I'll just bet,” Piggot told her cuttingly. “I'll be dealing with the problem of Sophia Hess. Emma Barnes, and her lawyer father? They're your problem. Have fun.”

There was squawking from the earpiece, but she put the phone down anyway, and eyed the message on the computer once more. Alan Barnes, father of Emma Barnes. Not my problem.

Well, I'm going to be having a shitty day, but at least there's at least one person whose day is going to be even shittier.

At least her identity didn't come out. That could have complicated this immeasurably.

<><>

Emma

Emma watched the Principal dial the number for the police. This can't be happening. This doesn't happen to me.

“Okay, everyone, let's get back outside,” Peter ordered, and they readily obeyed him. “Leave the Principal to do her job.” He was moving slower than most, as Taylor was still leaning on his arm, but Emma was slower still, given that she was unwilling to go anywhere that the musclebound senior girl wanted to take her.

Sophia was hustled outside by the two Empire Eighty-Eight boys that Peter had detailed to hold her, and then Peter and Taylor left. Emma found herself in the office with the senior and Blackwell.

“Principal Blackwell!” Her voice was urgent. “Please, listen to me! My father -”

“ - is not here,” Blackwell told her coldly. “Get out of my office.” She took her hand from the mouthpiece and spoke clearly. “Yes, this is Principal Blackwell at Winslow High. I'd like to report an assault on a student by two other students. The names of the perpetrators are Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess … “

She didn't hear any more, as the older girl managed to muscle her out through the door, pulling it closed behind them. Peter stood there, his arm around Taylor. “Well?” he asked.

The older girl holding her smiled. “She was talking to the cops when I left. Named both of them.” She frowned. “We really going to let the cops handle this?”

Peter nodded. “The cops do our job for us, we don't need to get our hands dirty.” He paused. “Okay, everyone who's not needed here, get to class.” People began to disperse, and he turned to the girl at his side. “Taylor, you should probably go shower, get changed.”

“You should too,” Taylor told him, smiling wanly. “I got you pretty stinky.”

“Actually, maybe you should both stay the way you are,” the girl holding Emma suggested.

Peter looked at her, tilted his head slightly. “Okay, Jenna. Explain.”

Jenna shrugged. “Evidence. Cops are a lot more likely to take this seriously if Taylor's still messed up from the locker, right?”

Taylor looked at Peter. “She's got a point. I mean, I would literally kill for a hot shower right now, but if it helps put those two fucking bitches where they belong, I can stay dirty a little bit longer.” She pointed at Sophia. “Especially you.”

Emma had to hand it to Sophia; she wasn't fazed. Or she was really good at pretending. “Same old weak fucking Hebert. Hiding behind others to do your dirty work.”

Taylor stepped away from Peter, approached Sophia. “You want to know something, you black cunt? Before you started on me, I never even approved of the Empire Eighty-Eight. But they showed me something that you never did. They showed me what was right in front of my nose. They gave me someplace to belong. With them, I've got friends.” She turned toward Emma, who flinched at the look in her eyes. “Friends who won't stab you in the back, just because some black bitch is crawling up their ass.” Her gaze returned to Sophia. “And before today, I really didn't think that I ever wanted to join the Empire proper. But guess what? You fucking changed my mind. Congratulations. You showed me the right way to go.”

Whoops and congratulations resounded from the Empire Eighty-Eight members in the corridor; Peter smiled. “Well done,” he told Taylor. “I knew you'd get there eventually.”

“I'm not kidding,” she told him. “How do I join?”

“I know you're not,” he assured her. “Our next gathering is later this month. Would you like to come along? We can explain it there.”

“Sure,” Taylor agreed at once. “I can be there.”

“You've got to kill a minority,” burst out Sophia. “A black person, or an Asian, or a Jew. Kick them to death, or stab them, or shoot them. You willing to do that, Hebert? Get up close and personal, and kill someone like that? You got the guts?”

Taylor turned slowly toward her; her smile was razor-edged. “You volunteering, Sophia?”

The moment hung in the air, then Peter chuckled. “We'll talk about it at the gathering. You'll find that Sophia's information is a little … misplaced. Much like Emma's loyalties.”

“Actually, about that,” Emma snapped. “You're gonna join the Empire Eighty-Eight, Taylor? Fucking seriously? You know your dad'll have a heart attack as soon as he finds out.”

Taylor turned toward her. “And you'd tell him, too, wouldn't you?” she murmured. “Just to fuck with me. Just like you used my dead mother's memory to fuck with me.” She took a pace toward Emma, but then Peter was there.

“It's fine, Taylor,” he told her. “Wait here. Emma and I just need to have a … chat.”

Emma hesitated; she didn't want to go anywhere with him.

“I promise you, I'm not going to harm you in any way,” he assured her.

Somehow, she believed him; they strolled a little way down the corridor, then she turned to him. "Okay, say what you have to say."

He had blue eyes, she noticed, the colour of a summer sky. "Well, to start with, do you recall how you told Taylor that I was in the Empire Eighty-Eight?"

She nodded. "I asked around, and someone said that you were. Are you going to threaten me now? Because my dad's a lawyer -"

He shook his head. "Oh no, Miss Barnes. I'm not going to threaten you." His voice had not changed; he was still polite, slightly bantering. But his eyes had become hard and cold, like two chips of blue ice. "I don't need to."

"Wh-what do you mean?" She hated herself, hated her voice for shaking.

"I mean, Miss Barnes, that when you pointed out the fact that I'm a member of a notorious criminal gang, you failed to think it all the way through," he went on, quietly and inexorably. "You see, we have connections. Contacts. We know where your father works. What time he arrives at work. Where he parks his car. How much it would take for the parking attendant to look the other way. Where your mother goes shopping, and when. Where your sister Anne goes to college. What classes she takes. What dorm she lives in. Which room. Who she's seeing. Which nights she gets back late."

Emma felt the blood draining from her face, but he was still talking. "Now, I don't know what excuse that fucking n****r bitch used to get you to attack Taylor, and I frankly don't care. I do care about two things. I care about the welfare of Taylor Hebert, and I care about the image of the Empire Eighty-Eight. By hurting her, you've attacked both things I care about. Now, due to your actions, recompense is in order. You can give, or we can take. Taking is easy; you have any number of things that we can take away from you. People you love. Accidents do happen, after all. Or random attacks; you hear about predators on campus all the time. Anything ... or anyone ... can be taken away from you at any time.” He showed his teeth, just for a moment. “Giving, on the other hand, is up to you.”

He stopped talking; she was too much in shock to answer. Dad ... Mom ... oh god, Anne.

"Miss Barnes?" he asked. "It's a simple choice. Would you prefer that we take, or that you give?”

She swallowed, feeling nauseous. “What – what could I give you?”

His smile widened fractionally, became more friendly. “Sophia. You roll over on her. Tell the police everything that she's ever done that could be considered a crime.” An eyebrow raised. “Don't skimp on what you did either; however, if you tell them how she convinced you to do it, you should get off with a lighter sentence. Being white and all. Your dad's a lawyer; he'll be able to get you a good deal. But not her. Never her.” He glanced down the corridor at the others. “Cut her loose. Abandon her. You're better off without her. Trust me on this.”

The lump in her throat was still there. She swallowed again. “And my family will be safe? I'll be safe?”

He tilted his head slightly. “There will still be the matter of personal recompense for all the pain you caused Taylor. But it won't be too severe.”

Oh god. Emma didn't hear the almost bantering tone of his voice. She was seeing the ABB thugs in the alleyway, hearing their sneering voices, reliving the terror. What they had been about to do to her ... I can't go through that again. Anything but that.

Abruptly, she spoke. “If – if I gave you something more, something big, could you just leave us all alone? For good?”

A frown. He was intrigued. “That depends. How big?”

“Big,” she assured him. “Huge.” She was shaking now; she wanted to cry. She didn't want to do this, but she had to. Surely Sophia understands self-preservation. For Dad, for Mom, for Anne. I'm protecting us all.

He nodded. “If it's that big, sure.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “She's Shadow Stalker.”

For the first time, she saw that she had cracked his façade. He blinked. “Come again?”

“Sophia Hess,” she insisted, her voice low. “She's Shadow Stalker. The Ward.”

His eyes were unfocused. “You're certain of this.”

She nodded urgently. “Guaranteed. I've gone out with her. On patrol.”

The smile, which had gone away for a little while, returned. “Well, now. Isn't that … interesting.”

“So it's good?” she asked.

He nodded. “It's good. Roll over on her, throw her to the wolves, leave Taylor Hebert the fuck alone … and you're good. You will be forgiven for what you did to Taylor. On that, you have my word.” She turned to go; he held up a hand. “And don't warn Sophia. Or the deal's off.”

“I – I won't,” she assured him.

A brief nod. “Good. You can go now. Call your father. You'll want him here. Just remember what it is that you'll be saying to him.”

“Th-thank you,” she told him. Turning, she hurried back to the others.

She barely heard his voice behind her. “No. Thank you.”

<><>

Peter

“Ferguson.”

“Why are you calling? Are there new developments?”

“Yes, sir, there are. Emma Barnes is gonna roll on Sophia Hess. She's giving her up.”

“Well, that's good, but it's hardly surprising. Did you settle on recompense?”

“Well, that's the kicker. She gave me something else, which should be more than adequate.”

“Which is?”

“Not something I would prefer to discuss over the phone, sir.”

“It's that important?”

“I believe so, sir.”

“And you think it's worth letting the Barnes family off for?”

“Even better. After this, we'll own them."

“Very well. I'll have you picked up from school. I need to know what you've got.”

“Trust me, sir. You will not regret it.”

“For both of our sakes, I hope not.”

<><>

Kelly

Kelly was lounging at the front steps when the police cars rolled up. They stopped with a crunching of gravel in the No Standing section, and several officers got out. Three of them were women.

“Oh, hey,” he called out. “You're here about the assault thing?”

In return, he got several suspicious looks. Admittedly, it was a bit of an odd one for him too, to be cooperating with the pigs, but Peter had told them it had to be this way, so that was the way they were playing it.

“What do you know about that?” asked one of the officers. “And what's your name?”

“Kelly Fitzgerald,” he replied honestly. “I can show you where it happened, and where the perpetrators are.”

“Okay, kid, let's go,” the officer told him. “But screw us around, and you won't like what happens.”

He shrugged. “Sure. I just wanna see justice done.” And he even meant it, too. He hadn't thought much of Taylor when he first met her, but as Peter said, she was a sister. She hadn't folded on Bronson, and had even tipped him to bolt before the cops showed. That showed she had guts and brains both. What the n****r bitch and her race traitor girlfriend had done to her …

We shoulda just dragged them both out of here and shown them justice, Empire Eighty-Eight style. Let the redheaded bitch live, but let her see what happens to n****rs who hurt our friends. Mentally, he shrugged. But Peter wants it this way, so it happens this way.

“Here's Taylor's locker,” he told them, somewhat unnecessarily. “That shit was inside when she opened the locker. They shoved her inside, locked her in there.”

The officers stared at the open locker, the still stinking mess spread over the floor around it. One got too close, and had to retreat, looking green. “Holy Christ,” one muttered. “You got witnesses?”

“A metric fuck-ton,” Kelly grinned, pulling his phone out. He started the file, and the officers watched, fascinated. When it finished, one of them held his hand out.

“Gonna need that phone, kid,” he advised.

Kelly shook his head. “Sorry, not unless you got a warrant that says you can search the rest of my phone.” He grinned. “It's not that I don't trust you, but I don't trust you.”

The officer shook his head. “That's material evidence, kid. You do not want to be charged for withholding evidence.”

Kelly shrugged. “Shit no, I don't want that. You want, I can send the file to you. Got a number?”

Several of the officers conferred, and one nodded. He quoted a number, and Kelly quickly sent the file to it. The officer confirmed that he had the file, and started playing it through again.

“Okay, where are the perpetrators?” asked another officer. “We need to speak to them, to the victim, and to any witnesses.”

“Paramedics are also on the way,” another officer told him. “Were there any injuries that we need to worry about?”

Kelly considered that. “Not that I can think of,” he allowed, “but it probably wouldn't hurt to find out.”

He led the rest of the officers to where Taylor and Peter were silently facing off Sophia and Emma; the black girl was still being held by the buzz-cuts, as Kelly privately thought of them. Emma wasn't being held, but Jenna was shadowing her pretty closely.

“Thank fuck you're here!” Sophia burst out. “These assholes are Empire Eighty-Eight, and -”

“ - and we've seen the video footage, miss,” the female officer in the lead told her. She waved to the boys holding her; at a nod from Peter, they let her go. She stood sullenly, rubbing her wrists.

“So who's Sophia Hess, and who's Emma Barnes?” asked the officer, pulling out her notebook.

“I'm Sophia Hess, and I need to make a private phone call,” Sophia stated flatly.

“After I take your statement,” the officer facing her replied, equally flatly.

Another woman cop approached Emma. “And you would be Emma Barnes?”

She nodded. “Yes. And my dad's a lawyer, and he's on his way in here now.”

The officer grimaced; Kelly grinned to himself. He didn't like cops at the best of times, but having to deal with rat-bastard lawyer relatives of the people they arrested must be a royal pain in the ass. It was almost enough to make him feel sorry for them.

Almost.

A third officer approached Taylor. “And you would be the victim, miss?”

Taylor nodded. “Yes.” Her voice was quiet but firm. “My name is Taylor Hebert.”

The female officer scribbled away, then nodded encouragingly. “Tell me everything that happened.”

“Well,” she began. “I was going to my locker … “

<><>

Sophia

“Not until I get my phone call,” Sophia repeated stubbornly. “I'm not under arrest; you haven't read me my rights.”

The police officer looked irritated. “Is this you in this video?” she asked, holding her phone so that Sophia could watch it.

She hadn't had a chance to see it before, having been at the back of the room when the Empire shit had played it to Blackwell. But it was pretty damning, even with the shaky picture and bad sound. However, she'd gotten away with a lot more through sheer audacity.

“No,” she stated flatly.

“Well, here's your problem,” the officer told her. “I think it is. I've been given your name in connection to the case, and this footage very strongly suggests that you were the one who shoved that girl into the locker. So I am arresting you on suspicion of aggravated assault and deprivation of liberty, with other charges pending, once they analyse the waste that was in that locker.”

“But she's in the fucking Empire Eighty-Eight,” Sophia insisted. Can't this bitch see that? “Why aren't you arresting her?”

“Because she's committed no crime that we can see,” the officer told her patiently. “Whereas you have. Hands behind your back and turn around.”

Sophia shook her head. “No. Fuck this. No. I don't get arrested. Let me make my fucking phone call.” She began to move away from the cop, but suddenly she felt herself being grabbed and shoved face-first against the wall.

“Let me fucking go!” She struggled, but the officer was a good ten years older than her, possibly more. The woman was stronger, and had leverage on her side; she had Sophia's hands cuffed behind her in short order.

“You have the right to remain silent,” panted the policewoman. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you do not have an attorney, one will be provided for you.” She took a deep breath. “Do you understand these rights as I have read them out to you?”

Sophia was silent, seething. She wanted to go to shadow, to shed these cuffs, to show this fucking flatfoot who she was dealing with, but she held back. Where had it all gone wrong? How had her righteous win over that fucking racist Hebert bitch turned into this?

“Miss Hess,” the cop tried again. “I know you can speak. I know you can hear me. Do you understand your rights as I have read them out to you?”

Sophia gritted her teeth. Reading them their rights. Yeah, you go and do that, while I do the real work, cleaning up the fucking streets.

Another voice from behind her, male. “How's it going?”

“Okay. I've read her rights to her, but she isn't responding. Won't acknowledge.”

“Hm. Let me try.” The man leaned closer, took hold of her elbow. “Sophia Hess. Do you understand your rights, as my colleague has read them out to you?”

Fuck you. She stayed stubbornly silent. And then his thumb pressed on a nerve in her elbow joint, and she stiffened in pain. “Ow!” Almost, she went to shadow. But she restrained herself. You are so going to fucking regret that, you piece of shit.

“Oh, sorry,” he replied, not sounding at all sorry. “But now that we know you can speak, would you mind answering the question?”

“Fuck – yes,” she gritted. “I understand my fucking rights. Now can I please have my fucking phone call?”

“Given that you understand these rights,” he carried on, ignoring her question, “are you willing to waive the right to silence, and speak to us on the matter at hand?”

She twisted around and glowered at him. “Not until I get my fucking. Phone. Call,” she ground out, putting as much emphasis on her words as possible.

“Just one moment,” he told her, and turned to the female officer. “Has she been searched yet?”

“Not yet,” the woman told him. She looked Sophia over. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sweetie. The hard way involves a private room and rubber gloves. You want to go there?”

Sophia shook her head. Stubbornness had gotten her nowhere. “No. I do not want to go there.”

Just bide my time until I can get my phone call, and unleash the hounds of hell on these fuckers.

“Good. Hold still.”

Frisking her with cuffs on was a little awkward, but apparently neither of the cops was willing to remove them, and so that's how it happened. It was a little more personal than she had expected, but it was over relatively quickly. As it was, she wasn't carrying anything illicit, for which she was grateful; had she been, the female cop would have found it. She was quite thorough.

“Now can I have my phone call?” she asked, once it was done.

The two cops looked at one another. The male one shrugged. “Sure. May as well.”

The female cop nodded. “Sure. But here's the question.” She held up the two phones that she had taken from Sophia. “Which one? And why two phones in the first place?”

Because I'm a Ward, you dumb piece of shit.

“The newer one,” Sophia told her. “And can I have my hands cuffed in front of me for this?”

With the male cop watching, the female cop uncuffed her hands and recuffed them, then gave her the PRT-issue phone. Fortunately, it didn't have any exterior markings to show it as such.

Taking a deep breath, she keyed in the PIN, making sure not to let the cops see it. Then she scrolled through the numbers until she found the one she wanted. Pressing Dial, she awkwardly held the phone up to her ear. The cops watched impassively.

The phone rang twice, then was picked up.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Shadow Stalker. I presume that you are in police custody by now.”

“Yeah, it's all good. When are you going to come pick me up?”

“We're not.”

She blinked. “Sorry, what? I didn't get that.”

“We're not going to pull you out of this. This is a criminal matter involving your public identity. You haven't revealed your secret identity yet, I hope?”

“Uh, no, no, that's all good,” she managed. “But … “

“But nothing, Shadow Stalker,” Director Piggot told her. “You will submit to arrest. You will let them take you downtown. We will pick you up there. You will not give them any reason to think that you are anything but who you say you are. You will not, under any circumstance, try to use your standing as a Ward to get out of this. Do you understand?”

“I, uh, yeah, but -”

“If you violate these orders, then we will consider you to be a criminal to be arrested,” Piggot warned. “You've been getting away with this sort of thing for far too long. No more. It ends now.” There was a click as the call ended.

The bottom fell out of Sophia's world. It didn't make sense. She always got away with this sort of thing. It was what she did.

I always win. I'm better than everyone else. I always win.

I never lose.

She put the phone away automatically, her mind working fast. Piggot gave me orders. Still a Ward.

A deep breath. She's a bitch, but she wouldn't cut me loose just like that. I didn't commit any crimes in costume, so this doesn't break my probation. Alan Barnes had made her read the terms and conditions of her probation, for which she was now grateful. I can't figure the outs if I don't know the angles.

She felt her heart rate slowing as she calmed herself. PRT coming here would out me. Pickup at the station, right. So say nothing. Don't even bother denying anything. Emma won't be saying anything either. When her dad gets here -

And then, in the silence around her, she heard Emma's voice. “ … yes, she pushed Taylor down the stairs lots of times. And broke into her locker a few times. I remember once, she stole a flute that Taylor brought into school … “

Her brain whited out. Emma? How is this possible? She's giving me up?

SHE is giving ME up?

“FUUUUUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!”

It took Sophia a moment to realise that the tearing, animalistic noise had been torn from her own throat. She didn't even bother going to shadow; straightening up with a lunge, she slammed the heels of her hands up under the chin of the larger, male officer. She was very fit for her age, and fairly strong. His head snapped back and he staggered backward; she began to turn to the female officer -

Too late, she registered the prongs of a stun-gun as they jammed into her ribs. The current crackled through her; she convulsed and fell to her knees. Even then, she tried to fight, tried to go to shadow, but it was too little, too late. The female cop hit her with the stun gun a second time.

This time, the lights went out.

<><>

Taylor

I ran my hands through my hair yet again, facing into the pounding spray of the hot shower. It felt heavenly. I had scrubbed myself all over, twice, and finally – finally – I felt clean again. Now, I knew, I was just indulging myself.

And what's wrong with a little indulgence?

I smiled to myself, and turned off the taps. Turning, I stepped out of the shower cubicle, accepting the towel that Jenna handed to me.

“Thanks,” I told her, as I began to towel off. “But you really didn't have to come down here with me.”

“Peter wanted me to stay with you,” she pointed out. “I mean, I know that Emma and Sophia are in custody, but there might be one or two other idiots in the school who want to hurt you. After all, it wasn't always just those two, was it?”

I shook my head, spraying droplets. “No. Madison Clements was always one of them, up until this time, that is.”

She smiled slightly. “She obviously realised that fucking with you is a losing proposition.”

I chuckled. “No. Fucking with you guys is a losing proposition. I'm just along for the ride.”

“More than that, I think,” she pointed out. “Were you really serious about wanting to join?”

I shrugged. “Well, yeah,” I told her. “I don't necessarily agree with everything you guys do, but fuck, you've protected me, and Peter saved me from the locker, and … fuck. What it was like in there … you do not want to know.”

She nodded soberly, handing me my underwear. “I saw it from the outside. From a distance. I have to say, Taylor, you were badass in Blackwell's office. I mean, covered in shit, your own puke all over your shirt, and you still fucking gave it to her with both barrels.”

I blushed to the roots of my hair, as I did up my bra. “I … well, it seemed to be the right thing to do. To say.”

Jenna jerked her chin in an upward nod as I climbed into my gym sweats. “Well, it sure as hell impressed everyone there. Peter always said he saw something in you. Today, I saw what it was.”

I ducked my head, trying not to blush again. “Yeah, well, let's hope it doesn't require me to be locked in a locker full of shit before I can be that way again, huh?”

She laughed and ruffled my still-damp hair. It felt good, comradely. “Yeah, let's hope so.”

Peter was waiting at the entrance to the girls' shower room as we exited. He was also freshly showered and changed; I walked up to him and made a show of sniffing the air. Then I turned to Jenna, who was grinning broadly, and asked, “Where's Peter? I can't smell him anywhere.”

Peter, chuckling warmly, put his arms around me; I snuggled into his embrace. “Mmm,” I murmured. “There you are. You smell nice.”

“So do you,” he replied, just as softly.

“Thanks,” I told him. “Actually, you know something? How we talked awhile ago about you being my boyfriend? That offer still open?”

He nuzzled my cheek. “Yeah, why?”

“Because I'm taking you up on it,” I told him with a smile.

He stopped, still staring at me. “You're serious?”

I nodded. “Deadly. Is there a problem?”

Slowly, he shook his head. “No. No problem at all.”

Tentatively, I leaned in toward him. He divined my intention, and mirrored my movement, tilting his head. Our lips met in a brief, warm kiss. It wasn't a kiss for the ages, and of passion there was barely anything. But it was my first kiss with a boy, and I felt a calm spreading through me, settling my racing thoughts.

I didn't kiss him again, not right away; once was enough.

For now.

Part 4