It Gets Worse Pt 3 (Patreon)

The bus rolled past the group of struggling teens. Sophia could see the staring faces from within; worst of all was Hebert's face. She was still laughing. Laughing at me. Nobody laughs at me.

She wrenched against the binding duct tape, straining to form words past the strip which had fallen across her mouth and felt like it was permanently bound there. It didn't happen; all she managed was a faint mewing noise, which infuriated her even more. That makes me sound helpless. I'm not helpless.

She had, of course, a simple way to get out of this. I could go insubstantial, leave it behind. A pause. Unless this adhesive makes it part of me. She thought about it some more. Well, if nothing else, I can get away from these dopes, and pull my way free.

The big problem was, of course, the fact that she would be outing herself in front of four witnesses. Worse, these witnesses would be able to verify that she, a superhero, had talked them into attacking Hebert.

The boys were also struggling, which didn't help; every time she thought she'd achieved any sort of slack in the duct tape, one of them would pull it tight again. She growled behind the tape.

Fuck it, I'll take the chance. Swear them to secrecy. It worked with Emma.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she prepared to push herself into the shadow-state – then held back, just in time, as a dozen kids trotted around the corner.

“Holy shit, I didn't believe it when Joey texted me.”

“I'm seeing it and I still don't believe it.”

“Are you seeing this?”

“Someone get a picture!”

“Oh god, this is classic.”

“This is better than Emma Barnes.”

“It's better than Madison.”

“How do you even fucking do that?”

“Geez, get a room, will you?”

“I didn't know she was into bondage.”

“Hey guys, can we get you anything? Pillows? Blankets? Lube?”

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Sophia gritted her teeth behind the duct tape. Somebody is going to fucking die for this.

The crowd of kids gathered around them, chattering and laughing. She heard phones click as pictures were taken and, presumably, sent to other people. And then someone knelt beside her; she felt fumbling at the duct tape. Excellent. I'm getting out of this.

The fumbling moved to her belt, and she felt her phone being removed from her pocket. She tried to struggle, to wrench herself free, to turn to look at whoever was robbing her, but she couldn't do any of that. She couldn't even raise the alarm.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

There was a slap on her ass – one final humiliation – and then the person was gone. With her phone. I've just been robbed. I've just been robbed. This does not happen to me.

But manifestly, it had. Sophia nearly ruptured herself trying to turn her head, to see who had taken them, but it was too late. Another phone clicked, capturing her expression.

Then – and only then – did she hear sirens approaching. The crowd began to disperse as the police car came into sight; it pulled up alongside Sophia and the boys. The officers got out and approached the group; one of them pushed his cap back and scratched his head.

“Well,” he mused out loud. “Now I really have seen everything.”

Sophia's list was really long by now, but she added him to it anyway.

<><>

She winced as the duct tape was pulled away from her mouth. She hadn't been wrong, before; the adhesive did feel as though it was removing skin as well as hair. “Fuck!” she screamed. “Fuck fuck fuuuuuccccckkkk!”

The police officers were restraining themselves from laughing, but only just, as they cut the five teens from the tangle of duct tape. For their part, the boys were a lot more subdued than Sophia, letting her take the lead.

Sophia subsided, glaring at everyone around her. The senior officer of the two pulled out his notebook. “Now that you've gotten that out of your system, miss, would you like to tell us how this happened?”

Sophia took a deep breath. “I -” She paused, riffling through options.

Fuck.

“It was an accident.” She ground the words out.

“An accident.” The other officer snorted with laughter. “Five of you get wound up with duct tape and it's an accident?”

“Yeah,” supplied one of the boys. “Like she said. It was an accident.” He peeled duct tape from his clothing; it really didn't want to let go.

Sophia rounded on him. “You had a pocket-knife! I could feel it digging into my butt! Why didn't you get that out and cut us free?”

“Uh …” He seemed to want to look anywhere but her.

“What?”

“Uh, that … wasn't a pocket-knife.”

They had to tase her to get her off of him.

<><>

As she exited the police station, Sophia felt her 'social worker' take her arm. “Sophia, what happened? Why did you attack that boy?”

Sophia clenched her teeth. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Why is there a big strip of missing hair over the top of your head?”

She clenched her teeth harder. “I don't want to talk about it.”

“Oh, is that where the duct tape -”

“Yes, that's where the duct tape was. Now can you just let it go?”

The woman looked at her directly. “I can't help you if you won't talk to me. What's happening here?”

Sophia felt a certainty unfolding in her mind. I know what happened. “What's happening here is that you're driving me to the PRT building, and not asking any more stupid fucking questions.”

<><>

She rehearsed the speech in her mind as she rode the lift up in the PRT building.

There is a Master-class cape loose at Winslow High. Her name is Taylor Hebert. She forced me and my friends to harm ourselves for her enjoyment. She belongs in the Birdcage.

As the lift came to a halt on the appropriate floor, she allowed herself a long-awaited snarl of triumph. Suck on that, Hebert. I don't lose.

Stepping out of the elevator, she strode along the corridor toward Director Piggot's office.

<><>

Emily Piggot looked up at the knock on the door. A quick glance at her day planner indicated that she didn't have any appointments scheduled. This had better be good. “Enter!” she called.

The door opened and Shadow Stalker ... well, stalked in. Her fists were clenched and her whole posture bespoke anger; Emily could tell that much. Beyond that, however, there wasn't much of a clue as to what was going on. Shadow Stalker nearly always seemed to be angry or upset over something.

“I presume you're here for something important,” stated Emily.

Shadow Stalker took a deep breath. “Yeah,” she replied. “Got something you really need to hear about.”

Emily tilted her head. “Is this anything to do with the incident today, where you were charged with several counts of assault and battery to a fellow student of Winslow?” Her tone, deceptively light, held a certain amount of weight behind it.

“I can explain that,” Sophia gritted.

“Explain it? You broke his nose, fractured his cheekbone, and kicked him repeatedly in the testicles!” Emily exclaimed. “In front of two police officers! After you were found duct-taped to him and three other boys! Can you explain that, too?”

Shadow Stalker clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles had to be white under the gloves. “Yes. It's why I'm here to talk to you now.”

“And you couldn't simply leave me a message, or send an email?”

The Ward shook her head. “My phone was stolen. And it's really too important to put into an email. So I came straight here.”

Emily nodded. “Very well. I will receive your report now.”

<><>

Finally. Sophia took a breath. “There's a -”

Piggot's phone rang. She held up a finger as she picked it up. “I have to get this.”

Sophia ground to a halt, gritting her teeth. Impatiently, she watched Piggot on the phone.

“Yes … got it … yes … all right … okay … yes … okay … fine … done.”

Piggot put the phone down and laced her fingers before her. “I'm sorry, you were saying?”

Sophia rolled her eyes. “I'm saying that there's a -”

Piggot's mobile rang, vibrating furiously on the desk. “Excuse me,” muttered the Director, picking it up. She frowned at the number on the screen, then answered it. “Yes?”

Sophia clenched her fists inside her gloves. Oh, for fuck's sake. Come on. It shouldn't be so hard to simply tell her what the fuck is going on, and get Hebert put in her place forever. Fuck, I don't even care if she isn't a cape. She deserves this anyway.

On the phone, Piggot was still blathering on. “Pardon? No … no, I think you have the wrong number … no, this is the PRT building … Parahuman Response Teams … yes, yes, I'm sure. I'm the Director … no, I'm not Director Costa-Brown, I'm Director Piggot … no, I'm not joking … yes, I am serious … no, I advise you to check your number before you call again … goodbye.”

Heaving a sigh of aggravation, she clicked the button to end the call, then put the mobile down again.

“Apologies,” she told Sophia. “Now, you had something to say?”

“Yes,” gritted Sophia. “I do have something to say.”

Piggot cleared her throat warningly. “Tone,” she warned Sophia.

Sophia pressed her lips together behind her mask, and took several deep breaths. “Okay,” she muttered. “Okay.”

“I'm waiting,” prompted Piggot.

“Right,” Sophia began yet again. “Director Piggot, there's a -”

A knock on the door interrupted her. She turned as it opened. The Deputy Director leaned in through the doorway.

“Yes, Mr Renick?” asked Piggot.

“I'm just going down to the canteen for a bite to eat,” Renick offered. “Did you want me to get you anything?”

Piggot considered that. She wasn't feeling particularly hungry. “No thank you, Mr Renick. I appreciate the offer, though.”

“Not a problem, Director.” Renick withdrew, pulling the door closed behind him. The Director looked back at Sophia.

“You were saying, Shadow Stalker?” she asked.

Sophia drew a deep breath. Screaming at the Director would not help. “Right. There's a -”

The computer on Piggot's desk beeped loudly, drawing the Director's eyes to the screen. “One moment,” she interrupted, holding up a finger.

“No, but there's a -”

“Miss Hess, this is important,” Piggot warned her, eyes skimming the screen. “I'll be with you in a moment.”

“But what I've got to tell you can't wait!” shouted Sophia, forgetting her decision not to scream at the Director.

Piggot turned to look at her, her gaze very cold indeed. “You will not use that tone of voice on me again,” she snapped. “I have a very high priority email here that I have to look over.”

“But this is important,” insisted Sophia, trying not to shout again. “There's a -”

“No,” snapped Piggot. “You will not interrupt me. You will listen. I'm a busy woman. I have work to do. I do not need you wasting my time like this. Now, you will wait till I have finished reading this email, and then you will say what needs to be said. Do you understand?”

Sophia's fists clenched again, and she ground her teeth together.

“I said, do you understand?” Piggot was in full-on bureaucrat mode now. There would be no talking to her.

Reluctantly, Sophia nodded. “Yes,” she conceded. “I understand.”

Piggot nodded curtly. “Good.” She looked back at the email.

Sophia put her hands behind her back, twining her fingers together until they hurt. She had to tell Piggot about this. As much as Sophia wanted to put Hebert into her place personally, a Master-class like that had to be dealt with at a distance. And the best way to do that was by using the PRT as a blunt object. But to do that, she needed the PRT to cooperate and take her seriously. Lashing out was not the best way to get that done.

Eventually, Piggot finished reading the email. She nodded once, then looked up at Sophia. “Very well. What was the matter that you wished to speak to me about?”

Sophia took a deep breath. “There's a -”

And then the Endbringer sirens went off.

<><>

"Oh, come on!" screamed Shadow Stalker. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Emily was barely listening. She snatched up the phone and stabbed numbers on the keypad.

"Ops," a voice reported in her ear.

"Talk to me," she ordered. "Which one is it?"

"We don't know. We're not even sure if there is an Endbringer."

"Explain." From the corner of her eye, she spotted Shadow Stalker digging a pencil and pad from a pouch on her belt.

"About thirty seconds ago, our sensory equipment suffered a massive glitch. Some sort of power spike. It ended up profiling sort of like an Endbringer, so the computer set off the alarm just in case. We're double-checking all our readings right now."

Shadow Stalker placed the pad on the desk and began to write. She was two words in when the point broke. Throwing the pencil to the floor, she stamped on it.

"Triple-check them," Emily ordered curtly. Wordlessly, she pushed a mug full of pens across the desk to Shadow Stalker. The girl plucked one out and bent over the pad again.

"Will do, ma'am. Do you want to stay on the line, or should we call you back?"

The first pen refused to work at all. The second managed a bare squiggle of ink before it died. Emily watched, bemused to the point that she almost lost track of what the man in Ops was saying.

"Ah, no, I need you to give this your full attention. Call me back if this is something we really have to worry about."

Shadow Stalker tried another pen. The nib came off and deluged the pad in ink.

"Yes, ma'am. Will do."

"Good." Emily hung up, then took her gold-plated pen from her pocket. It was engraved with her unit's motto: Neque receptus, non deditio. Blandly, she offered it across the desk to Shadow Stalker.

Snatching it, the Ward ripped off the ink-covered page and clicked the pen. The click had authority behind it, as befitted a one hundred fifty dollar precision writing implement. However, what came next should not have happened; Emily watched in disbelief as the pen came apart in Shadow Stalker's hand, the powerful spring propelling bits and pieces of the mechanism in all directions.

With a howl of wordless rage, Shadow Stalker dropped the barrel of the pen, snatched a permanent marker from the cup, and spun around. She stomped over to the wall and began to write in large sweeping strokes.

Emily came to her feet, ignoring the familiar twinge from her legs. "Don't you dare write on my -"

A flicker out of the corner of her eyes warned her; old reflexes took over and she dived to the floor. Behind her, a shattering crash heralded the demise of her office window. She shielded her head with her arms as fragments of glass cascaded around her and something barrelled over her desk. Another crash resounded through the room, this one sounding more like drywall.

Cautiously, shedding bits and pieces of her window, she got up and looked over the desk. There was, within the settling dust, a large hole in her office wall. Outside, in the corridor, something was going on; due to the dust, she couldn't tell exactly what it was, but there seemed to be at least two people involved, plus a lot of squawking.

A white feather drifted to her desk. She stared at it.

<><>

“It was the seagulls.” Aegis, at least, seemed to be relatively unhurt. Piggot watched as he pulled a long sliver of glass from his arm; the wound didn't even bleed. Such a minor injury would be closed by the end of the day and healed by the time the week was up. He wouldn't even need bandaging. For just a moment, she envied him.

“The seagulls.” Emily's voice was flat. There were more feathers in here, all originating from one very live and very noisy seabird, which had since escaped out the window in the confusion. On the upside, the Endbringer sirens had ceased to wail. “How do seagulls come into this?”

“Well, when the sirens went off, I was on patrol,” he explained. “I came back as fast as I could. I got a reflection the sun off the building in my eyes as I was just gaining altitude to land on the roof. Then a flock of seagulls must have gotten in the way. One got right in my face, squawking and flapping. I didn't pull up in time.”

“You most certainly did not.” She looked down the hall a little way, to where paramedics were loading Shadow Stalker on to a stretcher. “How is she?”

“She's stable,” one of them reported. “A few broken ribs and a broken collarbone. We don't think there was a spinal injury but we've got her immobilised anyway until that can be checked out. But she's awake now.”

“Good.” Piggot walked over and knelt next to the injured girl. Her knees protested, but she ignored them. “Shadow Stalker. Can you hear me?”

Shadow-Stalker's head was in a brace, so it couldn't move, but the girl's eyes rolled toward her. “Unh?”

“What was it you were trying to tell me?”

“Uh.” The Ward seemed to be trying to think. “Director.” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Yes?”

“It's not my fault.”

“What's not your fault?”

“The bullshit magic space whale made me paint the eggs purple. I didn't mean to. It's in my brain.”

Piggot looked accusingly at the paramedic. “I thought you said she was awake.”

“She is,” the man replied. “I didn't say she was lucid. She's got a huge bump on her head. There might be a concussion involved.”

With an effort, Piggot stood again. “Take her away.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She turned to Aegis. “Do you have any idea what she was talking about?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, ma'am. Not a clue.”

She grimaced. “Well, the window and the wall will come out of your salary. Next time, be more careful.”

His expression mirrored hers. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Get out of my sight.” She stumped back into her office.

I wonder what she wanted to tell me.

Letting out a sigh, she brushed glass from her chair. That was a serious string of bad luck. She paused. Wait a minute ... 

Part 4