Reality Intrudes Pt 5 (Patreon)

[A/N: this chapter beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Earlier

Sophia isn't sure she knows the girl who sent her the text. Probably one of Emma's ass-kissers. Not important. What she does know is the body of the text: Hey Sophia, Taylor just dragged Emma out of Gladly's World Affairs class. Looked & sounded a bit psycho.

It's all Sophia really needs to know. She's not entirely sure how Hebert got out of the locker, or how she managed to grow enough of a spine to drag Emma out of the classroom, but details like that aren't important. If Hebert thinks she's good enough to stand up and fight back, then it's up to Sophia to explain to her where she's wrong. A good ass-kicking, she figures, will show Hebert where she really belongs. And Sophia can even report it to the PRT as a righteous beatdown, given Hebert's attack on Emma. I fucking love a win-win situation.

By the time she gets to the top of the stairs, Hebert's crap-stained footprints are getting faint, but they show the way into the third-floor girls' bathroom. Sophia sneers; this is one of Hebert's favourite hiding places. Tracked you down already. Couldn't even make it difficult, could you?

She goes into the bathroom fast, shoving the doors open as hard as she can. Hebert has no way of being a danger to her, but Sophia wants to get the drop on her anyway. Even when the outcome of the fight's a foregone conclusion, it's a good habit to keep up. And if she curbstomps Hebert hard enough, maybe the sorry little queef'll think twice before getting in Sophia's way again.

As the inner door booms against the stop, Sophia strides on into the bathroom. The first person she sees is Hebert, who's stripped down to her underwear for some weird reason. Did she drag Emma here for some kinky sex thing? The other odd thing is that Hebert looks like she's in the middle of a phone call. In all the time Sophia's known Emma, Hebert's never even been seen with a phone, much less using one. She vaguely recalls Emma saying something about Hebert's mom, but Sophia's never bothered remembering boring details like that.

Focusing past Hebert, Sophia looks at Emma, who's just turned toward Sophia from where she's standing at one of the sinks. There's a pile of some sort of stinky shit at the redhead's feet, and she's got the water running over something that's in the sink itself. There's a red mark on her forehead, her nose is swollen, and blood-stained paper plugs her nostrils. Hebert, you're gonna fuckin' pay for that.

Sophia takes a step forward. "Emma, you all right?"

When Emma speaks, her voice is a nasal mumble. "I thi'k by dose id broke'd. Tha'k God you're here." The look in her eye goes deeper than that: Where were you? Why didn't you protect me?

Anger swells in Sophia's chest at the implication that she's failed Emma, but the marks on her friend's face are silent proof of the point. By the time I'm finished with Hebert, she's never going to pull this shit again.

Hebert seems to be paralysed with fear, or just has no idea what to do next. Either way, she's just staring into space with the phone still held up next to her ear. Gliding forward, Sophia swings her fist and plants a solid punch into the skinny girl's solar plexus, just under her breastbone. With a gratifying whoosh of breath, Hebert folds over and goes down, sprawling inelegantly on the bathroom tiles. Her phone hits the floor and skitters across the ceramic, coming to rest against Emma's boot.

Sophia looks down at Hebert with her fists clenched, her victory feeling almost anticlimactic. It's not as though Hebert ever put up much of a fight before, but this time felt as though it might be more of a challenge. No such luck, of course. As Hebert's eyes focus on her, Sophia aims a kick at her ribs; time to drive the lesson home. "You've just never learned—"

Her eyes widen and she breaks off her little speech as Hebert goes from helpless victim to active participant. Lifting her legs, Hebert flips out of the way of the kick, coming to her feet far more athletically than Sophia would've given her credit for. Not that this deters Sophia in any way; Hebert might get lucky once, but that's no substitute for hard-earned skill. She comes in hard and fast, throwing a punch from the shoulder. Hebert seems to freeze up again for a split second; Sophia begins to grin tightly in anticipation of the sensation of Hebert's lips splitting under her knuckles.

The barest fraction of a second before Sophia's fist would've knocked Hebert's teeth across the room, Hebert's face just isn't there any more. Caught off guard as her fist whiffs past the other girl's head, Sophia feels her arm seized in a steely grip. As fast as she is, her reactions haven't even begun to catch up by the time the arm is twisted uncomfortably, locking her into a compliance hold. Shocked, Sophia realises that Hebert's not only stronger and faster than she seems, but that she's also totally turned the fight around in less than a second.

While Sophia's trying—and failing—to break free of the hold, Hebert turns to Emma. "How are you going with that?" The utterly casual tone of her voice does more to irritate Sophia than anything else. It's like she considers Sophia to not even be a factor any more.

Emma's reply is defensive. "Uh, id's slow. Id does'd wa'd to cub oud." If she says any more, Sophia isn't listening, because she's taking advantage of the fact that Hebert's distracted to slip into her Breaker state. It doesn't matter how lucky or good Hebert is, she can no more maintain a grip on Sophia in that state than she can put a headlock on a puff of smoke.

It's time to play hardball; if Hebert wants to poke the bear, she's gonna get mauled. Reforming, Sophia leads with a jab to the face; her follow-up will be a punch to the solar plexus. This is, of course, the least of what she's gonna be doing to Hebert, but it's a good start. Hebert takes the bait, deflecting the jab and leaving herself wide open. Sophia bares her teeth viciously as the follow-up punch … smacks loudly into the middle of Hebert's right palm, which has somehow blurred into position. Hebert's hand has no give at all, and the shock of the blow travels up Sophia's arm as her fist comes to a complete halt.

Sophia's got just enough time to register that Hebert's turned the fight around again, and that she's holding Sophia's fist in a grip like iron. Too late, she looks up to see Hebert's forehead approaching at speed. The last thing she feels before the lights go out is a bone-deep crunch from her nose.

Cold water splashes into Sophia's face, and she splutters her way back to wakefulness. She's lying on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor, with Emma standing over her in her underwear. Her nose throbs abominably, feeling about three times its normal size. "The fuck?" she asks, sitting up. Her head spins for a moment, but she pushes through it. She's taken hits to the nose before, though this is the first time she's actually had it this badly broken. "Where'd Hebert go? What happened to your clothes?"

Emma looks uncomprehendingly at her. "What?" she asks nasally.

Sophia rolls her eyes as she climbs to her feet. The throbbing in her nose eases very slightly, but it's still unpleasant as fuck. "Where. Is. Hebert? And where. Are. Your. Clothes?" That's when she looks down at herself and receives another shock. "And where's mine?" she yells, because she's just noticed she's also in her underwear.

Emma gets the meaning of that with no problem at all. "She took themb," she says nasally. "Took mbide too."

"And you let her?" Sophia glares at her. "I thought you were supposed to be strong!"

"Why did'd you mbeat her ub?" retorts Emma. "You've always mbeed strogger thad her!" Her eyes, red-rimmed as they are, stare accusingly at Sophia.

Sophia's got an idea about that. "What if she triggered with powers?" she asks as she tears off strips of paper from the partial towel on the counter. "Attacking civilians and Wards with powers is a criminal offence." She ignores the notion that this can apply to her. If they can't catch her, they don't deserve to apply the rules to her. Rules are stupid and restrictive anyway, except for the ones that let her do what she wants.

Emma stares at her. "You thigg that's what habbed'd?" She doesn't sound disbelieving, but nor does she seem to be jumping on the idea.

Sophia winces as she shoves the wadded-up pieces of paper into her tender nostrils. "You ever seen her go that psycho before?" she asks rhetorically. Honestly, if Hebert had been that much of a badass when they first met, Sophia probably would've cut her a shitload of slack. But their respective roles are now set; Sophia's the ass-kicker and Hebert's the ass-kickee. Which just means that Sophia's gonna have to work harder at putting Hebert back where she belongs. Either that, or six feet underground, if Hebert won't see sense.

"So what do we do dow if she got bowers?" Emma asks after a few moments. It might be Sophia's imagination, but Emma's gaze doesn't seem to hold quite the same level of unquestioning faith in Sophia's abilities that she's used to seeing.

"We don't do anything," Sophia says flatly. "Once we get out of here, I'll be contacting the PRT and giving them chapter and verse on Hebert, how she's a dangerous parahuman who attacked you and tried to kill the both of us before I drove her off. You don't have to say a damn word."

Emma frowns. "But what about our clothes?"

As much as Sophia doesn't want to admit it, she's got a point. "Okay, so she attacked us both and took our clothes. Think we should say she tried to make us do skeevy stuff? I've heard that's a fast-track to the Birdcage, right there."

A sceptical expression crosses Emma's face. "What if they exabid us? Cad't brove what did't habbed." She gives Sophia a hard look. "Add as buch as I wadd to see Taylor id trouble, I'b dot about to fake that shit."

"Yeah, you're right." Sophia considers her options. "We'll just say she was acting crazy, making threats and shit. We don't know why she picked on you. For all we know, it was all about how you used to be her best friend."

"Add our clothes," Emma points out. "She wadd wearig your padts."

Sophia shakes her head. "I still can't believe you let her take my pants."

"I still cad'd believe she bead you ub," Emma retorts. "It was like she didd't have to eved try."

"Don't go there," Sophia says warningly. "I figure she's got a Brute rating, as well as Mover and probably Thinker. I couldn't use my powers directly, so yeah, she beat me. But next time I see her, I'm gonna take her down as hard as I need to."

Emma nods. "Souds good. So how are we gettig out of here? I dod't thidk adyode dows we're here."

"Well, I'm sure as shit not walking out that door like this," Sophia says bluntly. "If anyone gets even one photo of us, it'll be all over the fuckin' school in minutes." And even with Emma's standing among the 'in' crowd, such a photo would make them a laughingstock at best and raise salacious rumours at worst. The higher you are, the harder you fall.

"Doe, doe, I cad see that," Emma says hurriedly. "Cad't you phase through the floor or sobethig?" She looks expectantly at Sophia, who shakes her head.

"Fuck, no," Sophia says flatly. "For one thing, if I run into an electricity cable, it hurts like all fuck, and if I can't get out of the wall in time, that might just kill me. For another, that's a fuckin' boys' bathroom just under us. I am not fuckin' outing myself and giving whoever's in there shooting up or smoking up a free show, all at the same time." While it isn't a certainty that there'll be someone in there, the chances are about fifty-fifty of this being the case, and Sophia doesn't like those odds in the slightest.

Emma seems to shrink in on herself a little. "So what do we do?" she asks, wrapping her arms around herself. Sophia restrains herself from following suit, even though it is a bit chilly in the bathroom. She tells herself that it's all the tiling that's making it feel cold.

"There's only one thing for it," Sophia says. She points at the pile of reeking clothing on the floor, which by now she's identified as Hebert's cast-offs. Even worse than them are the jeans, currently crammed into one of the sinks; they were what Emma'd been trying to clean when Sophia came in. The cleaning effort hasn't been too successful, and on top of everything else the jeans are now also soaking wet. On the floor, the sneakers are just as filthy as the jeans were, while other items of clothing (while not nearly as bad) are still soiled to one degree or another. "You're going to have to put those on and go for help."

Up until now, Emma's been following Sophia's lead for the most part. But at this suggestion, she shakes her head violently. "Doe! Fugg, doe! I'b dot puttig that shit odd." The look on her face suggests that her disgust might stem in equal parts from the smell and the utter lack of fashion inherent in Hebert's ex-wardrobe. "You put it odd."

"Not fucking likely," Sophia retorts. "That shit stinks bad enough when we're back here. There's no fuckin' way I'm getting any closer. You put it on."

"You're subbosed to be the suberhero," protests Emma. Sophia is mildly surprised; the redhead is pushing back harder on the issue than she would've expected. "Addyway, I cad't fit iddo mbost of her clothes. You're skiddier thad be."

Sophia steps forward and raises her voice. "There's no fucking way I'm putting on any of that shit. You're the one who got yourself dragged up here by Hebert."

"I didd't see you doig addy better agaidst her," Emma shoots back, her own voice also rising. "Addyway, you're the wud who shoved her iddo the logger."

"Oh, don't even fuckin' go there," Sophia snaps. "All you had to do was distract her just once when I was fighting her and we would've had her. But you couldn't even do that."

"Whed, eggzacty?" demands Emma sarcastically. "Whed she had you id ad arb lock, or whed she head-butted you? She fuggig owd'd you."

Temper rising, Sophia is opening her mouth to shout something when another shout interrupts her. "BBPD!" It's a masculine voice, coming from outside the bathrooms. "Police officers! We are coming in! Make no hostile moves!" This is followed by the distinctive sound of the outer door being pushed open, then the inner one also flies open. A heavy-set male cop, made even bulkier by the jacket he's wearing, bursts into the bathrooms and moves to the right. Directly behind him, a skinnier cop, this one black, comes in and moves to Sophia's left.

Despite the fact that she's technically covered by her underwear, Emma automatically shields herself with her arms, and lets out a piercing scream. Sophia has to admit, this is something she's really, really good at.

Later, in Principal Blackwell's Office

Just as they enter the outer office door, Principal Blackwell's phone rings. Pulling it out, she swipes the answer icon and holds it to her ear. "Winslow High School, Principal Blackwell speaking," she says.

Sophia tunes her out in favour of listening in on the two police officers. The older one, in his forties, has greying hair at his temples and a stolid, unshakeable air about him. His jacket hangs off of Emma like a circus tent, while the younger cop's jacket might actually fit Sophia in a couple of years.

"Take that to the car," the older one says, indicating the oversized evidence bag that the younger one is holding, containing Hebert's wet soiled clothing. "Bring back tape and cones. We need to partition that locker off until crime scene techs can get to it."

Sophia isn't so sure she likes that idea. If the cops decide to really investigate the locker, she's not sure exactly what they'll find, but it might not be good for her. Best, she decides, if the PRT takes over as soon as possible. Being aware of her secret identity, they'll steer any investigation away from her. Because of course as a Ward she won't be a suspect in the matter.

"Miss Hess?" She looks around at Blackwell's voice. "Your social worker needs to speak with you." The woman holds her phone out to her.

"Okay." She takes the phone. "Can I—?" She gestures toward the inner office. After all, it wouldn't do to have the cops hear what she's got to say to the Bright twit.

Blackwell nods and ushers her through; the door closes behind her. On the other side of it, she can hear the principal explaining that she needs to take a 'private phone call'. Sophia grins and settles down into Backwell's desk chair as she holds the phone to her ear. "I'm here."

"This is Kirsten Bright. Can you speak freely?"

Sophia glances around, just to make sure she's alone. "Sure. What's up?"

"Identify yourself by codename and security password, please." It seems that Bright is actually taking security procedures seriously, for once.

"Shadow Stalker. One two one three Sierra Hotel. Happy?" She tries not to sound too sarcastic, but she can't help rolling her eyes.

"Perfectly. Deputy Director Renick has directed me to get a verbal report from you regarding the incident involving your phone being stolen. Just so you know, I'll be recording this. Do you understand?" The so-called 'social worker' definitely seems to be crossing the "t's" and dotting the "i's" today. It doesn't take Sophia long to figure out why. They're gonna be going through everything that happens today with a fine-tooth comb. She doesn't want to fuck up and lose her job. The fucking twit. It occurs to Sophia that she doesn't want Bright to lose her job either; the next babysitter they stick her with might actually be inclined to do their damn job.

"Sure, I understand. Let me know when to start." Leaning back in the chair, she puts her bare feet up on Blackwell's desk, crossing one over the other. There's no sense in not being comfortable, after all.

Kirsten Bright clears her throat. "Commencing verbal report by Shadow Stalker regarding phone-loss incident at Winslow High on January third, two thousand eleven. Shadow Stalker, you may begin."

Sophia takes a deep breath. "There's this creepy weird loner in Winslow called Taylor Hebert. When she dragged my friend Emma Barnes out of class—"

"Uh, one second," interjects the Bright twit. "How did you know she'd done this? Are you in the same class with her? Did you see this?"

Trying not to sound aggravated, Sophia sighs. "No. Someone sent me a text message. One of her other friends, I don't remember who. Anyway, when I heard, I got worried so I went looking. I—"

"Were you in costume at the time?" interrupts the twit. "Has your secret identity been compromised?"

"No and no," Sophia says, trying not to snap at the woman. No sense in getting her pissed, after all. "I just made an excuse and left class. No big." She takes a breath, then continues on. "I know Winslow pretty good, so it didn't take me long to find them. Emma and Taylor, I mean. I—"

"Uh, I've been to Winslow too. It's not a small place. How exactly did you find them quickly?"

Knowing Bright can't see her, Sophia rolls her eyes. She didn't want to bring up this detail, but it seems the twit's actually using her brain for once. "Hebert must've walked in something. Left a pretty clear trail. Led me straight to the third-floor girls' bathrooms. I get there, she's already busted Emma's nose and she's making Emma change clothes with her or something."

"Why?" asks Bright. "The clothes, I mean."

"I dunno," Sophia retorts. "Maybe because her own clothes are so fuckin' grungy? She's a weirdo loner, who knows why they do shit? Anyway, I tell her to back the fuck off from Emma. But she attacks me. Now normally, I should've been able to take her down, no problem. I'm pretty fuckin' good, and Hebert doesn't do sports, never fights—I mean, doesn't get into fights. Never even seen her throw a punch. Just a big wimp, really. But this time around she cleaned my fuckin' clock. She's got moves I've never seen." She lets the aggravation at being beaten so thoroughly creep into her tone. "She's gotta be a fuckin' cape."

From the change in tone, Bright is suddenly a lot more attentive. "You're certain about this? What proof do you have?"

"Okay." Sophia tries to inject patience into her tone. "She's basically a bundle of twigs in a hoodie, yeah? I went to punch her and she caught my fist out of nowhere, and held it. When I was fighting her, or trying to, she moved faster than Armsmaster. Maybe as fast as Velocity. Not the whole body, but her arms and head. Like she knew what I was gonna be doing and got there first, every time."

"That's … very concerning," concedes Bright. "So what happened then?"

"Well, after she head-butted me and knocked me out," Sophia grinds out, "the bitch stole my clothes and my phones, and took Emma's too. I dunno where she got to. The cops came in shortly after that, then brought in the principal. You know the rest."

"All right," says the Bright twit. "What have you told the police?"

Again, Sophia rolls her eyes. What do you take me for? "Everything that happened, except for the bits about me being a Ward. And about her being a cape. Figured you'd want to keep that on the down-low for the moment."

"That's exactly what we want, yes." Bright pauses for a moment. "So what else can you tell me about the Hebert girl?"

Sophia bares her teeth. This is the moment she's been waiting for. "Okay, she's always been creepy, but now she's got powers she's even creepier. Take it from me, she's hella dangerous to fight. Pretty sure she's got Brute and Mover and combat Thinker ratings, and she's sure as fuck no hero. Emma said she was acting all crazy, saying we'd all be sorry or some shit." She pauses for a moment. "Need anything more?"

"No, that sounds perfect," the Bright woman tells her. "I'll pass your report on to Deputy Director Renick as soon as possible."

"Excellent," says Sophia, and hangs up the call. Stretching in the chair, she allows herself a tight little smile of self-congratulation. Fuck you, Hebert. Fuck you with a barge pole.

I. Fucking. Win.

Part 6