All Alone Pt 4 (Patreon)

Taylor

Two weeks.

She leaned on the railing, looking out at the bay. The Protectorate headquarters, within its pearlescent forcefield, was almost in her line of sight, but she refused to look at it. But she was aware of it, even as she refrained from acknowledging its existence. A rebellious thought flickered in the corner of her mind. With all their powers, they couldn't prevent one person from being murdered. What good are they, anyway?

Digging her nails into the wooden rail, she focused on the ocean once more. Brockton Bay was well-known for its climate, unusually warm for how far north it was, and today was proving to be no exception. She wore a sleeveless top and jeans; there was a fine sheen of sweat on her arms from the heat of the day. Before her, the sunlight glinted from wavelets travelling slowly in towards the shore.

Barely any of this registered on her, as she returned to her original train of thought.

Two weeks.

Two weeks since Emma died. Two weeks until I start high school.

Two weeks was not a long time, in the grand scheme of things. Taylor had had two-week vacations that went by in the flicker of an eyelid. And in fact, it seemed as though barely any time had elapsed since Emma's funeral; while she was no longer burying herself away from the world – not that she had any choice, following her father's intervention – the pain of her loss was still unexpectedly sharp.

At any time of day, she might see something and think, Oh, Emma would like that. Or worse, she might actually turn to address her best friend, forgetting that Emma would never again be at her elbow, never again roll her eyes at Taylor's jokes, even as she was laughing. Emma had a knack of telling her own jokes, the punchline carefully timed so that Taylor would snort her drink out of her nose. Taylor had thrown food at her more than once for doing this.

I'd let her pull that on me every day of my life if it meant I could have her back.

There were also just two weeks to go until school let in, and that was inflicting a whole new level of heartache upon her. She'd been looking forward to this, to a new school, new experiences. With Emma at her side, of course. Emma was the socially adept one, the pretty one. Taylor was happy to be the unnoticed friend of the popular girl, so long as this meant she didn't get picked on.

However, there was more to it than that. She had needed Emma for balance, for perspective. Before her mother's death, Taylor had been a motormouth, bubbly, full of life. Emma had provided brakes and just a little sanity. She had also, paradoxically, ensured that Taylor didn't just vanish from the world every time she got a new book that she liked.

Taylor, on the other hand, had done … what? Provided companionship? Injected a little levity and amusement into her best friend's life? Been the very best BFF she could possibly be?

She was left wondering if there hadn't been something more she could have done. If she couldn't have been a better friend. Made Emma laugh a bit more, made her life a bit happier. Appreciated her more while she was there to be appreciated.

And now I'll be going to high school and she won't be there to enjoy it with me. Though, to be honest, Emma had never quite enjoyed school as much as Taylor had. The joy of learning, of building on knowledge, was something she had understood, but had never been so deeply into as Taylor had. Nor had she been as much a cape geek as Taylor, although they had discussed the lives of various parahumans for hours at a time.

It was wrenching to think that she'd never have another who-would-win discussion, matching two heroes or two villains and citing previous battles and known powers, hashing out which of them would likely emerge victorious. Alexandria, of course, was the trump card in all of this; they had agreed early on that anyone taking Alexandria on deserved the beatdown they were inevitably going to suffer.

The tears that filled her eyes had little to do with the onshore breeze. I miss you, Emma.

“Hey.”

<><>

Startled from her thoughts, Taylor turned her head. There was someone standing there, but due to her tears, she had no clear view of them, although the voice had been female, probably of her own age. “What?”

“You okay?”

I'm about as far from okay as I can possibly get. But she didn't say so. Instead, she pulled a tissue from her pocket, wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. “I guess.” She paused. “Uh … do I know you?”

Now that she could see clearly, she already knew the answer to that question. The girl standing before her was indeed a teenager, with long black hair and dark skin. Where Taylor was skinny and gawky, this girl was athletic and graceful. There was an air about her of watchful wariness, of being poised for action at any time. A little disconcertingly, she was almost as tall as Taylor, who was used to having significant height over any gathering of her peers.

“No,” the girl confirmed, holding out her hand. “Sophia.”

This was as blunt an introduction as Taylor had ever gotten from anyone. “Uh, Taylor,” she replied, shaking Sophia's hand tentatively. The other girl's grip was firm, almost challenging; Taylor found herself having to apply a lot more pressure than she had first intended.

Sophia's gaze was very direct, her brown eyes fixed on Taylor's. “It's good to meet you,” she said.

Taylor got the impression that there should have been a finally in there somewhere. She wasn't as people-savvy as Emma had been, but she was pretty sure that this was anything but a chance encounter. “Uh, right,” she mumbled in reply. “Did you want something?”

Now, for the first time, Sophia seemed ill at ease. “You knew Emma Barnes, right?”

Taylor's eyes opened wide. “What? How did you know Emma? Who are you?”

“Uh … I met her briefly, the day she died,” Sophia said awkwardly.

“Oh.” Taylor blinked. “She didn't mention meeting any new friends to me.”

Sophia's head came up at that. “How do you mean?”

“I mean,” Taylor told her, her voice rising a little, “that I was talking on the phone to her about thirty seconds before she was killed. I mean that Emma and I were best friends from first grade and we used to share friends like nobody's business.” She stepped forward, closing the distance, obscurely glad for the hot anger that was now replacing the hollowness in her chest. “So if she'd met somebody who she managed to impress to the point that you're seeking me out to ask about her, then you should've made an impression on her too. And she never said word one about meeting someone. So how about you tell me what the fuck you mean by 'met her briefly'. Or fuck off. I don't much care.”

<><>

Sophia

Shit. I didn't know that she'd been on the phone.

The conversation was not going at all like Sophia had imagined that it might. Taylor was quick, very quick. She had pounced on the discrepancy almost immediately; Sophia wasn't at all sure how to extricate herself from the problem.

On the other hand, the simmering anger radiating from the girl before her answered one particular question. Taylor Hebert is not a wimp. Which, ironically, made things a little harder for her. If the girl had been a pushover, Sophia could have just walked away, secure in the knowledge that if Taylor was a wimp, then Emma would probably have been one too.

But she's not. She's really not.

Taylor gave her a cold, dismissive stare. It stung; a moment ago Sophia had been in control of the situation but somehow the initiative had slipped from her grasp. “Emma was my best friend,” the skinny girl said. “I don't believe that you knew her at all. You want something from me, and you're just using her name to get under my skin. Go away and leave me alone.”

Sophia felt the first stirrings of her own anger. Here she was, honestly making overtures and all she was getting was rejection and abuse. “I'm not going away,” she retorted stubbornly. “Not until you tell me what I want to know. About Emma.”

Equally stubbornly, Taylor shook her head. “I'm not telling you anything about Emma until you tell me what this is all about.”

“I can't tell you that,” Sophia insisted. “But it's important to me. I need to know what sort of person she was.”

“Well, if you can't tell me why, I'm not telling you shit.” Turning, Taylor started moving off.

Incensed, Sophia grabbed her by the shoulder. “Don't you fucking walk away from me.”

Even in the heat of her anger, she had not forgotten the assessment she had made of Taylor; specifically, that she was no wimp. Thus, it came as a surprise to her when Taylor turned with the pull instead of resisting it. It was even more of a surprise when Taylor's long arm came around at head height, her open palm cracking against Sophia's cheek.

In the normal course of events, she would have been ready and willing to return such a move with interest when in combat, but this hadn't been combat up until now. Momentarily stunned, she felt herself being pushed roughly back, to land ignominiously on her butt. “Now fuck off,” Taylor advised her, “and leave me alone.”

As Sophia pulled herself to her feet using the safety rail, her anger flared anew. Who the fuck does she think she is? Nobody does that to me and gets away with it.

Taylor had moved a few steps away in the interim; this merely served to let Sophia build up a little speed. Wimp Taylor might not be, but neither was she any kind of seasoned fighter; she turned far too late as Sophia bore down on her.

“Look, I told you -” she began, only to break off with an “Oof!” as Sophia's shoulder slammed into her midsection. They went down in a tangled pile on the Boardwalk. First they rolled one way then the other, each one struggling for dominance.

Taylor wasn't as strong as Sophia, or as fit. She certainly wasn't accustomed to fighting. But Sophia didn't want to hurt her and she didn't want to reveal her powers, which reduced the options open to her.

Still, it wasn't long before Sophia managed to push her on to her back and hold her down with a hand on each forearm. Taylor had lost her glasses in the struggle, but the glare she directed at Sophia was no less fierce for all of that.

“Stop fighting,” panted Sophia. “We don't need to fight. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Says the bitch who just tackled me,” Taylor gasped. She tried to pull one arm free and failed. Undeterred, she tried with the other arm.

“I don't,” insisted Sophia. “I just want to know about Emma.”

“And until you tell me why, you can just fuck off in triplicate,” Taylor managed. Heaving herself up a little, she pulled her arms together behind her head.

Sophia didn't realise what she was doing until Taylor's left hand grabbed Sophia's right wrist. Taylor didn't wear her nails long, but they were long enough; when she sank them into Sophia's wrist, Sophia yelped and let go of Taylor's arm.

The punch that Taylor then delivered into Sophia's ribs wasn't particularly expert, but it still hurt. She pulled her arm back and did it again, then a third time. Sophia tightened her grip on Taylor's left wrist and twisted her own left arm to break the grip. She succeeded but at that moment, Taylor heaved, throwing Sophia off of her altogether.

Sophia landed on her side; Taylor was rolling rapidly in the other direction in an attempt to widen the distance. But there was something the other girl wasn't seeing.

“Look out!” Sophia called, too late. Taylor came to the edge of the Boardwalk, rolling straight under the safety rail. At the last moment, realising the danger, she reached out and tried to grab the rail, but missed. The last that Sophia saw of her was the soles of her trainers, disappearing over the side. Sophia heard the sound of the impact.

Getting up, Sophia staggered to the rail, holding her ribs. Amateur she might be, but Taylor threw a mean punch. Looking over the rail, she saw Taylor, lying on the sand about ten feet below. She was on her side, face half-buried in the granular particles. One arm was twisted oddly. There was no sign of movement.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” muttered Sophia. Not again, not again. Looking left and right, she realised what should already have been obvious to her, that this part of the Boardwalk was currently deserted. Otherwise, the fight would have been broken up before it went too far. But this also meant that Sophia could cheat a little.

Vaulting over the rail, she went to shadow form before she hit the ground, then reformed beside Taylor. Grabbing Taylor's shoulder, she rolled her on to her back. “Are you all right -”

The handful of sand caught her square in the face. She coughed and choked and tried to blink her eyes clear, but she didn't get the chance. A punch to the face made her reel, then she was pushed on to her stomach and a heavy weight landed on her back; it felt like somebody's knee. Having her face ground into the sand didn't help her breathing problems; Taylor grabbed one arm and twisted it behind her back, but Sophia wouldn't let her get a grip on the other.

“What do you want with me?” demanded Taylor. “What do you want with Emma? Who are you? What the fuck is going on?” With each question, she pushed Sophia's face into the sand.

Sophia was struggling just to breathe. I could go shadow, but that would out me. Instead, she used her free arm to push herself up just a little, so that she wasn't inhaling sand.

“What do you want to know about Emma for?” Taylor's questions were relentless. “Where do you know her from?” She leaned even harder on Sophia's back; Sophia felt her vertebrae straining under the load. I've got to do something.

Turning her head, she blurted out the one thing she hadn't meant to say. “I was there when she died.”

<><>

Taylor

Taylor stopped pushing Sophia's face into the sand, stopped pushing her arm up behind her back. She just stared down at the dark-skinned girl, a whirl of thoughts displacing her anger, her hurt.

“What.” She had wanted to ask a dozen questions, but the single word was all that came out.

Sophia turned her head farther, so that she could look up at Taylor with one eye. “I was there. When she died. I saw it happen.”

“She was killed by gang members!” yelled Taylor. “They cut her throat! How could you have been there?”

Sophia's answer was as straightforward as it was shocking. “Because I'm the one who killed them.”

Taylor's grip loosened all the way. She got off of Sophia and watched dumbly as the other girl sat up and scrubbed the sand from her eyes and nose, spitting out particles as she did so. By the time she looked up, Taylor was just staring at her.

“You killed them.” Her tone was flat; she didn't know whether or not to believe Sophia.

“Yeah.” Sophia's tone was equally flat. “I did. Each and every one of the bastards.”

“The police said a vigilante did it. But they wouldn't say who.” Taylor stared at Sophia. “You're good at fighting. But you're not that good. How could you kill them all?”

“The police aren't saying because it's not their jurisdiction.” Sophia's lip twisted. “They'll have passed it on to the PRT.”

Taylor blinked as she realised what Sophia was saying. “You're a cape?”

Sophia nodded once, curtly. “Shadow Stalker. That's me.”

For a second, Taylor was puzzled, and then memory clicked in. “Oh, right. I've heard that name. That's you?”

As an answer, Sophia's body blurred into a mist-like form; when she reformed, she was standing upright. “That's me, yeah.”

“Oh. Oh, wow.” Taylor, still sitting on the sand, stared up at Sophia. Her eyesight was pretty bad without her glasses, but she'd still seen that. I'm talking to a cape? “So ...” She paused. "… why do you want to know about Emma?”

Sophia extended a hand to help Taylor up. "I don't know about you, but I've got sand down my neck and in my hair." Taylor noticed that she tacitly didn't mention the sand that had been thrown in her face, or the fact that her face had been rubbed in more sand. "Why don't we go get ourselves cleaned up, and then we can talk some more, if you want."

Taylor accepted the hand up; Sophia's grip, as she had previously noted, was quite strong. She came to her feet, then looked vaguely around. "My glasses. Can you see them anywhere?"

Sophia pointed at the Boardwalk above them. "I think they're up there."

"Of course they are." Taylor shook her head in resignation, causing a light shower of sand from her hair. "Which way are the steps?"

"Wow, you really can't see much without your glasses, can you?"

"Nope. Short-sighted as hell."

"That must suck." Sophia pointed. "Stairs are this way."

As they began to trudge in that direction, Taylor looked at Sophia. "You know something?"

Sophia rubbed at her cheekbone, where Taylor's punch had connected. "What's that?"

"If you'd led with the whole 'I was there when she died' thing, you would've had my complete and total attention, and I wouldn't have had to kick your ass.”

“Oh, pul-leeeze. You weren't kicking my ass. I had you right where I wanted you.”

“Really?” Taylor snorted. “You must love eating sand then.”

Bickering amicably, the two headed for the steps.

<><>

Sophia

“Okay, so give.”

Taylor, once more bespectacled, had gotten rid of the sand from her clothing and hair. She sat opposite Sophia, also free of unwanted silicates, and sipped at her tea. There were fries in a basket between them; she nibbled at one while she awaited Sophia's answer.

Sophia, for her part, took her time. She glanced around at the other patrons of the cafe, noting that none were close enough to easily eavesdrop on the conversation. Nobody was even paying them much in the way of attention, which was exactly the way she liked it. She was also going through what she was going to tell Taylor very carefully; she had to tell it in such a way that she didn't vary too much from the truth, but also so that Taylor didn't learn certain aspects of her actions.

“The ABB had them trapped in the alley,” she began. “Dumpster in front, van behind. They'd dragged her out of the car and had her on her knees. Not sure what was going on there. I think maybe they were making her choose which part of her face they were going to cut up.”

Taylor put her cup down with a distinct clink and laced her fingers together. “But they didn't …” she began uncertainly.

“No, no, they didn't,” Sophia hastened to assure her. “She fought them. Just as I got there, she elbowed one of the guys in the nuts. But when she went to pull free, the girl with the knife just … cut her throat.”

Taylor shut her eyes hard, then opened them again. “Just like that?” Her voice was a little faint.

Sophia looked her straight in the eyes, pushing the lie as hard as she could. “Yeah. Just like that. She said something to Emma around about then, but I wasn't listening. I was aiming.”

“Aiming?”

“Yeah.” Sophia was back on familiar ground. “About three seconds after she did that, I shot her in the back of the neck with a razor-tipped crossbow arrow. Then I killed the rest of them.”

Taylor breathed deeply, looking fixedly at the table. Her hands clenched on one another, the knuckles whitening almost alarmingly. “Good.”

Sophia shrugged very slightly. “They killed her. Only made sense that they had to die, too.”

There was a long silence, then Taylor looked up at her. “I have to know … did she … did Emma … was she …”

“She didn't suffer,” Sophia assured her, then launched into her second lie. “She … well, when I got back to her, she was still alive. Still awake. Just barely hanging on. She looked me in the face and tried to say something. All I got was 'T …'. At the time, I thought she was trying to thank me for killing them. But now I think she was saying 'Taylor'.”

“Oh god.” Taylor's voice was low. “Oh god. Oh god. She died in that alley and I wasn't there for her.”

“I wish I could have saved her.” Sophia was entirely sincere now. “She came across as a fighter. Someone who didn't give up.”

“Yeah, no, she was all of that.” Taylor spoke hastily. “She never took shit from anyone. Never backed down. Always knew what she was doing and where she was going, and god help anyone who got in her way.”

So she was a fighter after all. Sophia ignored the fact that she'd led Taylor into saying that. She wouldn't lie to me about her best friend.

A silence fell across the table; both of them ate fries, while Taylor drank tea and Sophia had some of her fruit concoction. Taylor didn't seem to want to break the silence, while Sophia wasn't sure how to lead the conversation where she wanted it to go. The last time I tried something like that, it didn't go so well.

“Well, I really appreciate you tracking me down and telling me what happened.” Taylor had obviously decided that the silence was becoming awkward. “I'm just wondering. Where do we go from here?”

This was as good an opening as she was going to get. “How would you like to help me get revenge on those gangbanger sons of bitches?”

Taylor blinked. “I … didn't you say that you killed them all?”

Sophia's smile was grim. “There's more than them out there.” She paused a moment. “And they'll be hurting and killing other innocents every night, out there. If someone doesn't stop them.”

She ate a fry while awaiting Taylor's answer. It wasn't long in coming.

<><>

Taylor

The alleyway was dark and smelled of rotting garbage. Some of it squished under Taylor's trainers as she waited. She blended into the shadows well, dressed from head to toe in the darkest clothing she owned. God, I hope Dad doesn't notice that I snuck out.

Sophia was late. The longer she waited, the more aware Taylor became of the stench of the alleyway, and the fact that she, a teenage girl with no particular training in crimefighting skills, was lurking in said alleyway, alone, with just a canister of pepper spray to protect herself.

What am I even doing? It was a variation on a question she had asked herself a dozen times over the last few days, as her preparations to go out on patrol with Sophia became closer to completion. There was a point to the question; she was no more prepared for violent encounters than Emma had been. What's to stop what happened to her, from happening to me?

As if in answer to the unspoken question, a shadow beside her solidified into Sophia, wearing the Shadow Stalker costume. “Hi.” Her voice was barely a murmur.

For all that she had been expecting this, Taylor jumped. “Shit!” she hissed. “Don't do that!”

Sophia chuckled, the sound low and dark in the alleyway. “Sorry. Anyway, got you something.”

“What?”

“Hold out your hand.”

Obediently, Taylor did so; a moment later, her fingers wrapped around the handle of a baseball bat. It had been wrapped with electrical tape for better grip. “Wow,” she murmured, hefting the weapon. “Oh, wow.” Just swinging it back and forth gave her a feeling of power, of being in more control of her own destiny.

“I used it up until I got the crossbows,” Sophia explained in an undertone. “Just remember; don't come in unless you think I need help. If you do have to come in, aim for the head or the joints and just keep swinging until you and me are the only ones standing.”

“Right.” Taylor realised that her voice sounded less than totally enthusiastic.

Sophia apparently picked up on the same vibe. “You okay with doing this? Want to back out?”

Maybe. She took a deep breath and stiffened her spine. “No. I'm doing this. For Emma.” She'd do it for me.

“Good. Come on, then, if you're coming.” Sophia turned and vanished into the darkness.

After a moment, Taylor followed. 

Part 5