Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern [Worm Fanfic]

[Scopas]

Hell yeah! What an absolutely awesome chapter!

And attaboy, Greg! Mah boy is becoming a man, bless his nerdy head and janitorial hands!

 

[Ack]

psychiatric center? Asylum? Pretty sure that with how the Gov. in WORM works, that if they can nail her with those murder charges she would be going to the Birdcage.

Also, I know it does not really fit in this story(since this is not really a lewd, or at least one with Sophia), but personally I always picture Shadow Stalker as a young Teyana Taylor.

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It would be hard to get her all the way to the Birdcage, given that she's a minor. Public opinion and all that.

 

[Zackarix]

Nobody got hurt that time, though. Nobody who mattered, anyway."

Click to shrink...

I have a suspicion that the person who did get hurt was a non-white member of the staff.

As soon as they're secure, we open a line to Max Anders. Tell him who Hess is,

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Out of all the people they could have spilled the identity of the only black ward to, it just had to be Kaiser's civilian identity. Not that it would have changed much with Taylor putting the pieces together, but still.

On the upside, there's a chance we can get her put away permanently into psychiatric holding.

Click to shrink...

Ironically, this is probably the good end for Sophia in this scenario.

 

[Ack]

I have a suspicion that the person who did get hurt was a non-white member of the staff.

Click to shrink...

Nah. The Merchants.

 

[Scopas]

Out of all the people they could have spilled the identity of the only black ward to, it just had to be Kaiser's civilian identity. Not that it would have changed much with Taylor putting the pieces together, but still.

Click to shrink...

I mean, Piggot doesn't know who Anders is at night, nor Medhall's connection to E88. And at this point, Sophia's gone completely off the reservation, has essentially become a spree killer, and is in a building full of noncombatants. Even if she did know he was Kaiser, she probably should still tell him about Sophia's identity if only to minimize the civilian casualties.

Plus, before she informed him about Sophia's secret identity, she took measures to protect the rest of the Hess family, which is the real concern when de-masking capes.

 

[NavigatorNobilis]

I always picture Shadow Stalker as a young Teyana Taylor.

Click to shrink...

That's actually perfect; I've tried to match my mental image of Sophia to a real picture before, but this one is a perfect fit.

Also; great chapter. I'll be looking forward to the fallout from all of this!

 

[apocolypse1011]

Phenomenal story and chapter! I have to wonder how much of Shadow Stalker's recent actions were a result of Alexander's apparent surreptitious mind whammy at the school (outside influence) versus her powers changing her outlook and how she thinks (her own fault). I'm personally leaning toward it being that the mind whammy just unleashed what was already there, since in Chapter 6 Alexander basically said he somewhat reduced Sophia's critical thinking and judgment making abilities temporarily and it would take a while to wear off.

 

[Scopas]

Phenomenal story and chapter! I have to wonder how much of Shadow Stalker's recent actions were a result of Alexander's apparent surreptitious mind whammy at the school (outside influence) versus her powers changing her outlook and how she thinks (her own fault). I'm personally leaning toward it being that the mind whammy just unleashed what was already there, since in Chapter 6 Alexander basically said he somewhat reduced Sophia's critical thinking and judgment making abilities temporarily and it would take a while to wear off.

Click to shrink...

I don't think the mind whammy helped anything, but I honestly think that Shadow Stalker still maintains the majority of the blame. It's kinda like if someone gets drunk and murders their neighbor - the alcohol reduced their critical thinking abilities and impacted their judgement, but they're still culpable for their actions. Plus, even when Sophia was "sober", she'd already attempted murder multiple times and displayed explicitly sociopathic behaviors. I think she'd have turned murderer sooner or later, but Victor's mind-fuck acted as a catalyst, moving a future inevitability up in the queue to the present.

 

[apocolypse1011]

I don't think the mind whammy helped anything, but I honestly think that Shadow Stalker still maintains the majority of the blame. It's kinda like if someone gets drunk and murders their neighbor - the alcohol reduced their critical thinking abilities and impacted their judgement, but they're still culpable for their actions. Plus, even when Sophia was "sober", she'd already attempted murder multiple times and displayed explicitly sociopathic behaviors. I think she'd have turned murderer sooner or later, but Victor's mind-fuck acted as a catalyst, moving a future inevitability up in the queue to the present.

Click to shrink...

Sorry if I was a bit unclear in what I wrote, but that was pretty much the point that I was trying to make except you said it much more clearly.

 

[Ack]

Phenomenal story and chapter! I have to wonder how much of Shadow Stalker's recent actions were a result of Alexander's apparent surreptitious mind whammy at the school (outside influence) versus her powers changing her outlook and how she thinks (her own fault). I'm personally leaning toward it being that the mind whammy just unleashed what was already there, since in Chapter 6 Alexander basically said he somewhat reduced Sophia's critical thinking and judgment making abilities temporarily and it would take a while to wear off.

Click to shrink...

I don't think the mind whammy helped anything, but I honestly think that Shadow Stalker still maintains the majority of the blame. It's kinda like if someone gets drunk and murders their neighbor - the alcohol reduced their critical thinking abilities and impacted their judgement, but they're still culpable for their actions. Plus, even when Sophia was "sober", she'd already attempted murder multiple times and displayed explicitly sociopathic behaviors. I think she'd have turned murderer sooner or later, but Victor's mind-fuck acted as a catalyst, moving a future inevitability up in the queue to the present.

Click to shrink...

This is exactly the situation.

What Victor did was basically kick the first stone that started the avalanche. Sophia was keeping her darker urges in check because she vaguely knew it was a bad idea not to, but when the reasoning not to took a holiday, the 'fuck it, why not' urge took over. And once a bad habit is indulged in, especially to that degree, it's gonna need a whole new intervention to get her back on the wagon, because it feels so good to just do what you really want to do.

 

[Ack]

Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern

Part Eleven: Moving Forward

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Tuesday Morning
Winslow

As I entered the school, people seemed to ease away from me, unwilling to present the appearance of bullying me or even getting in my way. For some, this may have felt like being a social pariah. I'd been there, so this was nothing. In fact, it was rather welcome.

I went to my locker and opened it, not without a quick glance around, but my zone of privacy was operating at full strength. It seemed the downfall of Emma's clique, plus the determined efforts of the teachers to make me untouchable, had put the message out. Taylor Hebert is no longer an acceptable target.

I was just fine with that. Collecting my books, I closed my locker and locked it, then turned my head as I heard a familiar footstep.

"Hey, Taylor." Greg looked happy to see me. "How are you doing?" After yesterday, he meant. It was a valid question. A lot had happened yesterday.

"I'm fine," I said, and it was true for a given definition of the word. I was feeling better, though Justin's death was still a body blow whenever I thought about it. "How's the Two-Gun Kid?"

His expression morphed from a grin to confusion in the space of half a second. "The what again now?"

It was my turn to grin teasingly. "Thought you might not have heard that one. Someone got security footage of how you took down Sophia, so Bradley and the others were calling you that when I left yesterday afternoon." I elbowed him gently in the ribs. "It suits you. I'm just glad you took note of where the fire extinguishers were."

He rolled his eyes. "Trust you to bring that one up. They made me go through and count every single extinguisher on every floor, and what type was where. It took me three attempts to get it right. I still think they moved some around on my second try."

"Well, you got it right in the end." I glanced at the slight bulge of the dressing under his shirt. "I'm also glad you thought to use the ironing board for protection."

"Trust me, me too." He touched the spot gingerly. "If I hadn't, I'd be in surgery alongside Mr. Grayson." Or dead, he didn't have to say.

"Yeah." I nodded in agreement, with both what he had and hadn't said. "When's that gonna be okay?"

He half-shrugged. "The nurse who cleaned and dressed it said there was no sign of foreign substances. So I guess I should be glad Sophia didn't dip her arrows in shit or something. It should be okay by Saturday or Sunday. I might even get a cool scar out of it, to impress the chicks." With the old Greg, I might've thought he was being serious, but his self-effacing grin told me he was kidding.

"None of that, buster," I told him with a chuckle. "There's only one girl around here you need to worry about impressing, and I'm already impressed."

Was it just me, or did he blush slightly when I said that? There was a lot about teenage boys I still didn't know, even though Greg and I were getting to be pretty good friends by now.

I slugged him lightly on the shoulder as the first bell went. "See you in World Affairs."

"See you there, Taylor." Grinning all the way across his face, he turned and strode away, a whole new level of confidence in his stride.

Which was, to be fair, kind of justified. After he'd gone off to be treated by the nurse, I'd heard how he'd rescued Ms. Harcourt and the other women, and stayed out to confront Sophia when he could've just run away. I wasn't kidding when I said I was impressed by all that. Hell, Ms. Harcourt almost smiled when she spoke of him.

I headed to Mrs. Knott's home room and settled down behind my computer. While we were waiting for everyone else to trickle in, I booted it up and looked for articles on what had happened at Medhall on Monday. It appeared Mr. Anders was putting the screws to the PRT for not doing anything to rein in Sophia from her continued attacks on me and for not warning the police about her status as a cape, which had allowed her to escape from custody. This had allowed her to murder Justin, and nearly murder Tracey, Mr. Grayson, Greg and of course me. Not to mention whoever else would've died or been injured if Greg hadn't stepped up and done their damn jobs for them.

I blinked as I saw the announcement that a lawsuit had been filed against the PRT on behalf of those harmed by Sophia, to the tune of ten million dollars. This wasn't just for the benefit of me and Greg; Tracey and Mr. Grayson were also in line to be recipients of the payout, as well as Justin's family, wherever they happened to be. Director Piggot of the local branch of the PRT had been reported as responding to questions about this with what I suspected to be the most pissed-off 'no comment' in the history of that phrase.

It wasn't entirely her fault; I was willing to admit that, at least. Which wasn't to say she was totally, or even mostly, without fault in the matter. In Brockton Bay (I'd checked this up) the Wards were administered by the PRT, not by the Protectorate. Something about there not being enough room for them on the converted oil rig the adult team used for a base, or maybe it wasn't safe enough.

Anyway, I was perfectly okay with accepting that Sophia had been a psycho from the beginning; joining the Wards hadn't actually been the reason for her going off the rails. But she hadn't wanted to join voluntarily (I'd checked that up too) and had only been shoehorned into the Wards after bending the rules pretty hard on what vigilantes could and could not do.

It was amazing what someone could dig up if they were really willing to go looking online.

So Director Piggot hadn't turned Sophia into a raving sociopath, which meant she'd accepted Shadow Stalker into the Wards, knowing that she was there because she'd committed crimes, and promptly ceased to invest in any kind of effective oversight on her actions. She could be as pissed off as she liked; an ounce of prevention (Sophia Hess straight off to cape juvey) would've been far preferable to the shit I'd gone through, though the thought of Sophia's expression when she realized she'd been taken down by Greg Veder was almost worth it.

No, when I considered all Sophia had done while basically being protected by the PRT, I had very little sympathy in my heart for Director Piggot.

The bell to actually start class rang, and I settled down to pay attention. It was a little hard to concentrate with everything I had to think about, but I managed. After I dealt with the day's project—a spreadsheet that would calculate the differences in tide times over a month—I went onto PHO and browsed the threads there. Medhall wasn't involved with the cape scene, of course, but an impressive number of people had found out about Greg's takedown of Sophia.

Fortunately, nobody had linked him to his online persona of Void Cowboy, at least yet—I had laughed my ass off when he confessed to being the idiot behind that username—but it had to be at least as bad for an unpowered intern to have been the one to take her down. The authorities were trying to keep his name quiet—apparently some people get upset if a normal takes down a cape, who knew?—and for the most part this was holding. In the few places where it wasn't, all they had was his first name.

After Computers came World Affairs. I waved to Greg when I saw him, and took a desk next to his. This was not my usual practice—normally I'd be snagging a seat right next to the door, so as to make a fast getaway—but I was doing a lot of things these days that weren't 'normal' for me. Crawling into cars teetering on cliffs to save my boss, among other things. Madison and Julia might still be attending the class, but Mr. Gladly was finally doing his job and ensuring they couldn't bully me unhindered, which made life so much easier for me. I'd have to go and speak to Principal Blackwell about the massive amount of vitriol that was still piling up in my school email account—it seemed some people never learned—but at least I was pretty sure I'd get a fair hearing this time.

"Hey, you." He gave me a nod and a smile. "How'd things go in Computers?"

I shrugged. "They're still hitting my email. I'll go talk to Blackwell in lunch period."

He winced. "Ooh, ouch. Being made to actually do her job? That's going to have to sting."

"Yeah." I chuckled. "Couldn't happen to a nicer person. So hey, did you hear about the lawsuit?"

He looked attentive; a new thing for him, but one that I approved of. "I'm listening."

His expression started at amusement when I told him who was suing the PRT, and his eyes widened when he learned about the amount and who were the intended recipients. "Wow, really? Think we'll actually get any of that?"

This was another change in his aspect. The previous Greg would've been mentally rubbing his hands and considering exactly what he was going to spend it on. This one was actually utilising forethought and not assuming everything would turn out okay just because he wanted to.

"Dunno." I'd seen this sort of thing before, with the Dockworkers. "They might not win the case, but given the situation, that's unlikely. It might be knocked down to a lower figure, even to just a symbolic win. The PRT might make the local Director fall on her sword as a gesture to make everyone happy. This is all intended to score political points, not to specifically benefit us."

"Ahh." He looked enlightened. "I can kinda see it, yeah. So what we should be doing is sitting back with popcorn, and if we actually get anything material out of it, that's just a bonus."

"Bingo." It seemed we were definitely on the same page. He didn't even protest the concept of the PRT and Medhall as political entities, which of course they were; just not traditional ones.

"Good morning, everyone!" Mr. Gladly entered the classroom, full of vim and vigour as usual. Or like Greg had confided once, full of wind and bullshit. I couldn't actually argue with him on that. "How are we on this wonderful Tuesday morning?"

The response, as could be expected, was lacklustre in the extreme. I grunted along with the rest. It wasn't that I didn't share his enthusiasm—well, okay, I didn't—but going into life-and-death situations twice in one day had dulled my already-minimal appreciation of basic classroom banter. Greg went one better; he produced an amazingly realistic snoring sound.

Of all the responses, that was apparently the one Mr. Gladly took issue with. He walked down the rows of desks, carefully not looking at me, and planted himself in front of Greg's desk. "I'm sorry, Mr. Veder," he said. "Am I boring you?"

I took a second to feel mild surprise about Mr. Gladly dropping his 'Mr. G' persona—Greg wasn't the only one displaying atypical behaviour, it seemed—before clearing my throat to get his attention. "Mr. Gladly, maybe you haven't heard? Yesterday, Greg took on an armed intruder in the Medhall building and beat them unconscious. That person is now in police custody. You might have read about it in the news." You're really going to have to up your game if you want to top that shit, I didn't have to say.

The room went so quiet, I almost heard it when Mr. Gladly blinked. I was pretty sure I did hear a few jaws dropping around the room. Greg gave me a pained sideways glance as if to say, Really?

I returned him a half-shrug and a quick grin. At least I didn't mention the Two-Gun Kid part.

"Ah. Isn't that kind of … dangerous? Foolhardy, even?" Mr. Gladly puffed himself up into some variation of The Responsible Adult. "He should really have waited for the police."

"True, but he was in the process of getting my supervisor's boss and several members of her staff out of the line of fire when the intruder showed up, so he didn't really have a choice in the matter." I smiled slightly. "There's no doubt he saved lives. I was right there when Max Anders personally congratulated him." Chew on that, you pompous ass.

"I see." He visibly stopped himself from directly asking me if I were telling the truth, and stepped away from Greg's desk. "Well, uh, moving along. Yesterday, you all gave your presentations regarding a hypothetical project to green the Sahara. It will come as not very much of a surprise that one of your presentations was far and away better than everyone else's. Specifically, Taylor and Greg." He didn't mention Sparky, which surprised nobody. I hoped the guy would get at least a passing grade for not wrecking our presentation.

"I still say that's not fair," Julia said, just loudly enough to be audible. "Just because Taylor's the new teacher's pet …"

"Miss Morrow!" Wonder of wonders, it turned out Mr. Gladly could raise his voice when needed. "One more outburst from you, and I will be sending you to see Principal Blackwell. I have perused the source material Taylor and Greg used, and it is clear that they've studied it and made exemplary use of the material without actually copying it word for word. Your presentation was also good, but I'm not going to penalize them for using the resources at their disposal. Now, do you have anything more to say?"

Julia looked over at me, then at Madison. When Madison said nothing—even now, the marks of the beating Sophia had given her were barely visible under her makeup—and hunched down in her chair, Julia huffed out a sigh. It was clear there wasn't going to be any support from that direction. "No, Mr. G."

"Good." He went back to his desk and took up the stack of assignments. "All of you passed, though I will say some of you could have honestly put a little more effort into it." Walking around the classroom, he handed us back the papers we'd put in on Monday. As I'd already seen, ours was a lot thicker than everyone else's, with the one by Madison and Julia coming second.

The moment my copy landed on my desk, I snatched it up and looked for the mark. In his familiar scrawl, Mr. Gladly had written 97% - Very good! Please see me after class.

Frowning slightly, I turned to Greg, who was looking at an identical message on his, down to the percentage Mr. Gladly had awarded us. Sparky lifted his head briefly to glance at his own mark; twisting my neck, I made it out to be 51%. Could do better.

Well, that answered that. Mr. Gladly was totally aware of who'd done the work and who slept through basically every class he had. Leaning across toward Greg, I tapped the 97% with my fingertip. "Wonder how we lost the three percent?" I asked quietly.

"No idea. Maybe it's his way of balancing the fact that we got access to the Book when nobody else even had the chance to?" He shrugged. "Hey, this is the highest mark I ever got in this class. Not gonna jinx it by whining about three lousy percentage points."

When he put it that way, it made sense. "Yeah, true. So I wonder why he wants to see us?"

That, I couldn't answer. It was probably about the Book, but exactly what Mr. Gladly wanted to talk to us about regarding the Book, I had no idea. As with most questions in life, we were going to just have to wait and see.

<><>​

Whatever it was, Mr. Gladly didn't see fit to touch on it during the lesson. He waxed lyrical about how Gesellschaft and the Three Blasphemies had altered the European political landscape just by the very fact of their existence, and how they'd had much more effect than similar sized groups of heroes. Greg put up his hand after a while and asked about the Simurgh's attack on Switzerland, and if that couldn't also be seen as a political terror attack.

Half the class nodded and murmured in agreement, while the other half, led by Julia and her cronies, tried to mock him. "The Simurgh isn't a supervillain!" she said out loud.

"Why not?" I asked boldly. "She uses powers to mess people around. There's a kill order out on her. Why can't she be defined as a supervillain for this situation?"

"Because supervillains rob banks, doofus!" That was one of the boys who hung around Madison. "You ever see the Simurgh do that? Endbringers are different."

Greg cleared his throat. "I'm pretty sure 'must rob banks' isn't down anywhere in the job description of a supervillain. Have the Slaughterhouse Nine ever robbed a bank? I bet Crawler couldn't even fit through the doors. Doofus."

Silence fell briefly as everyone there tried to recall if America's most hated villain gang had ever stooped to that supervillain staple. I was reasonably sure they hadn't, if only because every single one of them was so notorious that they'd never be able to spend a dime without someone calling the PRT on them.

Mr. Gladly broke up the impending argument before it could start again. "Good points on both sides, people. Julia, you're right in that the Simurgh isn't usually seen as a supervillain. Endbringers are considered more to be something you evacuate cities for rather than a mere human committing a crime. However," he continued, raising his voice slightly when people on both sides of the argument started putting their two cents' worth in, "Greg is also correct that the Simurgh's influence on the people of Lausanne did indeed alter the political situation, just as if she were a normal supervillain. The main difference is that her influence happened all at once and we've been dealing with the aftermath ever since, while the others have had to work at it to stay relevant on the scene."

Dang, I thought. Mr. Gladly's really stepping up. I didn't know he had it in him. The cynical side of me suggested he was only making the effort so I couldn't say he'd let Julia bully me. I wasn't so jaded that I was going to refuse the assistance, though. It was, as Dad was fond of saying, about damn time.

With Mr. Gladly's interjection, everything settled down again. Greg seemed very pleased with himself, and I was quite happy we'd had each other's backs. The number of times I'd been in situations where anything I said or did was shouted down immediately, and I was mocked for even opening my mouth, compared to this time … the contrast was stunning. Was this how ordinary people got to live? I'd take it.

The lesson rolled on. Julia looked like she was seething, but lacking her accustomed support from Madison and the wilful blindness from Mr. Gladly, she had no outlet for her bile. When the lunch bell rang, Greg and I packed up our books but waited to see what Mr. Gladly wanted with us. Julia lingered also, drawing out her departure as long as possible.

"Julia, did you want something?" asked Mr. Gladly, still straightening up his desk.

It was clear to me what Julia wanted: us, outside the classroom where no interfering teacher would be able to see what was going on. She looked around as Madison slipped out the door along with the last of her cronies. Apparently realizing that her will held no sway inside the room where none of us actually wanted her there, she pushed her hair back from her face in a nervous gesture. "Uh, not really?"

I gave her a brief wave. "See you later then, Julia." Better later than sooner, that's for sure.

Shooting me another poisonous glance, she grabbed her bag and headed for the classroom door. Mr. Gladly watched it close behind her, then quite clearly put her out of his mind as he took the Book out of his desk drawer and turned to us.

"I've been reading this." He shook his head. "I haven't gotten even halfway through it, and it's absolutely brilliant. Every time I turn the page, the author covers another detail I wasn't even aware of. Your presentation made me think it might be possible, and the book utterly convinced me in every way."

"That's nice, Mr. Gladly," I said neutrally, trying not to think of Justin's cheerful face as he handed the envelope holding the Book over to me. "Is that what you wanted to tell us?"

He frowned and shook his head. "No. Well, yes, but I would really, really like to get in touch with the author. Whoever it is, they're brilliant beyond words. I've got a few contacts in the publishing industry, and if they're struggling to get their ideas put into print, I could definitely make that happen. These ideas need to see the light of day. If you could put me in touch …"

I shook my head as he trailed off expectantly. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Gladly. I don't know who the author is, just that they were willing to loan this to me as a favour to a friend of mine."

"So can you ask your friend …?" His voice had the tone that clearly conveyed, this is an obvious idea, why aren't you doing it already?

I shook my head again, my throat closing up. Greg put his hand on my shoulder for support. "She can't," he said quietly. "He's dead. It was very sudden. I can ask around at work, but I don't know if anyone else there knows the other person."

"Ah." Mr. Gladly's whole expression slumped. "Could you do that for me? Please? This, right here, has the potential to change the world. There are people out there with the resources to get this done, who just don't know it can be done."

"We can try." Greg seemed to have taken over the conversation, which was just fine with me. "But we're not due back at Medhall until tomorrow afternoon, so we won't be able to get an answer to you until Thursday. C'mon, Taylor, let's go."

I headed out the door with him, not sure what I was going to do if Julia had decided to hang about anyway. But the hallway was clear; my best guess was that her coterie had gone ahead and she hadn't felt like trying to confront us on her own. "Thanks for that, just now," I said after the door had closed. "I … it was too …"

"Hey, I get it," he said sincerely. "I miss him too. Anyways, we're a team. Medhall interns stick together, right?"

"Damn right." I grinned weakly, and high-fived him. "So, um, I'm gonna go see Blackwell now, if you wanted to head to the cafeteria …"

"Pfft, as if I'd risk going in there alone and getting ambushed by a bunch of Julia clones." He rolled his eyes. "I'm going with safety in numbers, thanks."

I was pretty sure he was sticking around to make sure I got to the office safely, but I didn't call him out on the lie. Besides, it felt nice to have someone watching my back. Someone who was actually competent and could think ahead, as opposed to the version of Greg who'd stepped out of the elevator with me on my first day at Medhall. That Greg, I'd tolerated. This Greg, I liked.

"Yeah, probably a good idea." I didn't have to specify why I thought it was a good idea. We both knew. "So, uh, is it just me or is Julia still rabid about trying to mess with me?"

"Absolutely frothing at the mouth, yeah." Greg seemed a little relieved at the change in topic. "I think I've got it figured. Emma was queen bee of our year, but she's been taken out of Winslow. Sophia was her enforcer, Madison was basically her court jester, yeah?"

I giggled involuntarily, imagining Madison wearing garish red and yellow with the weird hat. The image was so wrong and yet so right. "That's definitely one way to put it, yes."

Greg's smirk told me he had the same mental image I did. "So yeah, I'm thinking she's angling for the top job herself. Ems and Soph are out of the picture, and Mads is basically trying to pretend she never even heard of you, much less met you, but Julia's got it into her brain that the way to becoming queen bee is to push you down into the dirt again, just like Emma had you. So she's trying to recreate what Emma did back when we started at Winslow, but …" He gestured eloquently.

"But she doesn't have the support structure to do it, not like Emma did," I finished. "And she can't ambush me by pretending to be my friend until it's time to sink the knife in. Also, she totally doesn't have any little secrets from my past that she can dig up and throw in my face, like Emma used to."

"And of course, you've got me," he pointed out. "Emma was able to chase away anyone who even looked like backing you up. That shit isn't gonna fly with me."

"Well, duh, I've got you." I bumped my shoulder against his. "And I really, really appreciate it. Also, you need to see the security footage of you putting Sophia on the floor. Bradley says your form needs work and your follow-through lacked finesse, but he was smiling when he said it. Me, I think you looked totally badass."

Greg flushed a little, but recovered quickly. "Bradley? Smiling? Surely you jest. I'm pretty sure that man had his sense of humour surgically removed at birth."

I laughed out loud and dredged up a line I'd seen in an old comedy show. "I'm not jesting, and don't call me Shirley."

Greg's laughter joined mine, echoing down the hallway.

<><>​

Principal's Office, Winslow High

Carrie Blackwell looked down as her intercom buzzed. She glanced at the two suited people who sat on the guest chairs before her desk. Despite the fact that the chairs were lower-set than her own, they dominated the room. "I need to take this."

The male member of the pair gestured smoothly. "Go right ahead. We need to see how you conduct business, anyway."

That's what I'm afraid of. She pressed the button. "Yes?"

Her secretary's voice came through loud and clear. "I have Taylor Hebert here. She says she has a complaint to report to you."

Carrie's eyes widened. She didn't miss the two people leaning forward, their interest suddenly heightened. What she wanted to do was send the Hebert girl away until later, but these days she rarely got what she wanted. "Send her in."

"Yes, ma'am."

A moment later, the door opened and Taylor Hebert stepped into her office. Immediately, Carrie ran her eye over the girl, trying to figure out what was occasioning the complaint. Her clothes were clean and tidy, her hair neatly brushed, and the scrape on her cheekbone was more than a day old.

"Miss Hebert." Carrie saw the girl's eyes stray toward the two suited people, and did her best to regain her attention. "What appears to be the problem?"

"My email account." The girl took a sheet of paper from her pocket and unfolded it. When she slid it over the desk, Carrie's eyebrows rose at the insults being offered toward Taylor. Some of them were both disgusting and inventive, all at the same time. "It seems some people haven't gotten the message, or think throwaway email accounts make them anonymous enough to keep attacking me." Her gaze, when Carrie looked at her face, was forthright and steady. "This is just a small sample."

"I see." And Carrie did see. Oh, for fuck's sake. How hard is it to stop bullying one teenage girl? "I will have this dealt with as soon as possible."

"Thank you." To her credit, Taylor Hebert didn't show any overt signs of skepticism at Carrie's statement. "I appreciate it." Turning, she left the office. The damning sheet of paper lay in the middle of the desk.

Following the click of the door latch engaging, the suited woman stood up. "May I see that?"

Though worded as a request, it was anything but, and Carrie knew it. She handed the sheet over to the representative from the school board, and watched as the pair of them discussed it in low tones. Somehow, she knew, she would get the blame for this too, even though she was trying to stop the bullying once and for all.

It was just the way her luck was going at the moment.

<><>​

Taylor

Greg, who'd been waiting in the outer office, exited with me. I waited until the door closed behind us both and we were a ways down the corridor before I spoke again. "Think she'll do something about it?"

"I can almost guarantee it." Greg spoke with the confidence of newfound experience. "Right now, after the Emma and Sophia shit-show, she'll be off balance. If you keep pushing, she'll have no choice but to do her job, especially when you have actual evidence to back you up."

"And of course it helps that there's nobody to give her an excuse to sweep it under the carpet. Emma's facing legal charges, and Sophia's … well, where Sophia is." I had to be careful about what I said in public, but Greg and I both knew what I meant. Especially since he'd helped put her there. Two-Gun Kid, hah.

"Yup." He'd definitely caught the inference, from the pleased look on his face. "So, lunch now?"

"Lunch sounds good."

We'd started eating lunch together in the cafeteria after the locker incident; I'd bought his lunch the first time around as a thank you, and now we just bought our own and sat at the same table. It was friendly and companionable and we got to talk about our respective days at Medhall, and what we expected to be doing next. The best thing was, wonder of wonders, without Emma and Sophia to stir people up (and with Blackwell's strictures from on high) people didn't actually bother us.

I gave Greg my money and he went through the lunch line while I snagged a table and sat down. He was familiar enough with my preferences by now that I knew I'd like whatever he got me. Sure enough, he came back with a pita wrap, a banana and a cranberry juice.

Julia was across the room, eating with Madison and the others, and I knew they'd seen us. But these days it seemed a teacher was always wandering through the cafeteria, so she didn't have the chance to bring them over en masse and start anything. Besides, if she did? I was about done with rolling over for that shit, and I knew Greg was too. We wouldn't start anything, but we sure as hell wouldn't back down either.

Just as we were about to get up and head off—the bell would be ringing shortly, and I had Art class to go to—a few guys came past our table, laughing and joking with each other. I tensed, but it didn't look like they were part of Julia's crew. One of them brushed past our table, which I thought nothing of until I spotted the folded note that had been dropped on Greg's tray.

"What the hell's that about?" I asked, turning my head to look at them. They were all pretending the brush-pass had never happened, joining up with some buddies of theirs and heading out of the cafeteria. Not one of them looked back.

"I dunno." Greg picked up the note and unfolded it under the table. Curious, I leaned over and looked for myself.

Veder, Hebert, you seem to be strong, right-thinking people. Are you interested in joining a club where you can meet other people like you, who can see what's wrong in the world and are interested in fixing it? Call this number if you are.

I met Greg's eyes; he looked as confused as I felt. "What the fuck?" he asked. "Did we just get asked out of the blue if we want to join the Illuminati or some shit?"

"Search me." I held out my hand for the note and turned it over a few times. The writing was the only thing on it. "I didn't even know Winslow had clubs. I mean, apart from the sports teams." I'd heard there'd been a photography club up until a just few years ago, until someone stole all the cameras.

"So, a secret society then." Greg rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Oooh. Spoooky. Mysteeerious."

I had to chuckle at that. "Definitely pretentious as fuck. Are you gonna call the number?"

He shrugged. "Not all that interested, to be honest. I've got school work and Medhall stuff, and this just sounds pointless to me. High schoolers sitting around making big plans about how they're gonna fix things once they're old enough to do anything about it? Pass."

"Yeah, me too." I frowned, thinking back. "Weird thing is, they didn't look all that nerdy to me. I mean, did they have the vibe of someone who'd be into that sort of thing?"

Greg hunched one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Not … really? I guess? I mean, I used to be a total dweeb. We both know it. Back then, I would've jumped into something like this feet-first, and honestly believed I was making a difference in the world even while everyone else made fun of me. But you're right. Those guys didn't look like that."

"Oh, well." I got up from the table. "Takes all kinds to make a secret society, am I right?"

"Guess so." Greg stood up as well. "See you when I see you."

"See you then." We headed off toward our respective lockers, to get our books for the next class.

School went on.

<><>​

Later
Hebert Household

I had the ironing board out, making sure my work blouse was crease-free for tomorrow, when Dad came in the back door. "Hey, Taylor," he called out. "Did you have a good day?"

"Better than yesterday, that's for sure." I put down the iron and headed into the kitchen to give him a hug. "Greg and me got ninety-seven percent on that assignment. How cool is that?"

"That's pretty damn good, yes." He hugged me back, then ruffled my hair playfully. "So how's the boyfriend?"

"Da-ad!" I squawked, scandalised. "Greg's my friend, and he's a boy, but he's not my boyfriend. He's just … you know … Greg."

"Oh, sorry, my bad." He seemed far more amused at the error than he should've been. "It's just that you two hang around a lot together, and you talk about him all the time. Honest mistake."

I rolled my eyes in the best teenage-prescribed manner. "Seriously. I'm allowed to have a friend who's a boy without him being my boyfriend. Sheesh."

"Never said you weren't." Dad was barely hiding a smirk now. Parents sucked. "So how's the not-boyfriend, anyway?"

"Oh, he's fine. He's a lot less of a doofus than he used to be back before we started working at Medhall, which is totally a good thing." I tilted my head, remembering. "Actually, funny thing. Someone dropped a note on the table when we were having lunch. An honest to goodness invitation for both of us to join a secret society. How weird's that?"

The smirk was replaced with a frown. "A secret society? In Winslow? That does sound strange. Did they say what they get up to in their secret society meetings? Smoke pot? Play Dungeons and Dragons? Smoke pot and then play Dungeons and Dragons?"

I gave him an irritated look. "No, it said something totally different. Where are you getting all that stuff from, anyway?"

He put his hands up placatingly. "Hey, your stodgy old dad might've done a few silly things in his youth. It was a fair question. But I hope you're not thinking of walking into this sort of thing blind."

"No, me and Greg weren't even going to call the number." One of the phrases cropped up in my mind, mainly because I'd been thinking over it. "Part of it said that me and Greg, uh, looked like strong, right-thinking people, and asked us if we wanted to join a club where we could learn how to fix what was wrong with the world, or something like that."

All humour dropped away from Dad's expression. "Did it actually say that? Right-thinking? Fix what's wrong with the world?"

I blinked. "Uh, yeah. That's basically what it said, yes. Why?"

He shook his head definitively. "Then you're doing the right thing by staying away from them. Far away. Don't talk to them, and most of all don't give them any reason to think you're interested."

"Dad, you're worrying me." I was understating the matter. His tone was deadly serious, and it was putting chills down my spine. "What is it? Who are these guys?"

He heaved a sigh. "I always worried that this day would come. That sort of phrasing is used by white supremacist groups, like the Empire Eighty-Eight. You and Greg have shown that you've got backbone, and you've both clashed with the Hess girl, so someone's decided to try to recruit you."

"Shit." If chills had been running down my spine before, now they were having a full-on track meet. "Someone thinks I should be a Nazi?"

"Not so much 'should be' as they'd like you to join because you did something they approve of." Dad spread his hands. "People like that interpret behaviour the way they want to see it."

I facepalmed. "So because Greg tackled Sophia after getting beat up by her, they think we hate black people?"

"Well, from the sounds of that note, they certainly hope you do." He shrugged. "The trick is to say 'thanks but no thanks' in a way that doesn't offend them."

"Gotcha." I took a deep breath. "Okay, right now I think I'll call Greg and let him know what's up. Then tomorrow at Winslow we'll just be oblivious." I swept my hand above my head. "All the hints—whee!"

"Yeah, that should work." Dad sounded hopeful, which was a good sign. "Give him my best, while you're at it."

"Sure thing." Feeling more certain about things, I went back into the living room. The last thing I wanted was to get mixed up with the largest gang in the city. Hell, if I had a total brain meltdown and joined, and Mr. Anders found out, I might end up losing my spot at Medhall. There was no way I wanted to risk that.

Picking up the phone, I dialled Greg's number. His mom answered, but that was okay. She was a sweet lady, who only wanted the best for Greg. "Hi, Mrs Veder. Yes, it's Taylor. Is Greg there, please?"

<><>​

Later That Night

As I lay in bed on the edge of sleep, my drowsy brain kicked up random snippets of things that I'd seen and heard through the day.

… Two-Gun Kid …

… why can't the Simurgh be a supervillain …

… Mysteeerious …

… how's the boyfriend …

That one jolted my mind a little, and I lay there turning it over in my head.

I hadn't pushed back so hard because I disliked Greg. In fact, I liked him just fine.

It was more the surprise factor. The idea of Greg being my boyfriend had simply never crossed my mind before.

Now that it had, I needed time to get used to the idea before I could think it over properly.

In any case, did Greg even see me as a romantic interest, or just as a friend?

If he was interested, surely he would've sent me a signal by now. Asked me out on a date, or given me flowers, or something.

My last thought, as I slid away into sleep, went along the lines of, At least I'd always know what he was thinking.

<><>​

Winslow
The Next Morning

When I got off the bus, Greg was waiting for me in the parking lot. "Hey, Taylor!"

"Oh, hey, Greg. How you doing this morning?" I went over and gave him a side-hug. The revelation about who the note was from had been somewhat of a shock to him.

"A bit better now that I've had time to sleep on it," he assured me. "I mean, what are they gonna do? Beat me up if I don't wanna join? Pfft, Bradley's gonna be teaching us how to handle ourselves, and I'll take anything he can hand out to us over what those jerks can do."

"Yeah, but don't raise your voice about it too much, okay?" I didn't think anyone was listening in, but I glanced around just to make sure. "All we've gotta do is pretend we've got no idea what they're talking about. And if they start talking about black people, just say something like, 'Oh, like my neighbour Ryan', or whatever. Once they get the idea that we've got no problems with minorities, they should give us up and start trying to recruit elsewhere."

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." He nodded seriously. "Your Dad's pretty smart. Where'd he learn about stuff like that?"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, the Empire tries to get their hooks into the Dockworkers every now and again. Dad is beginning to think it's more of an initiation ritual for the enthusiastic new bloods than an actual serious attempt to infiltrate anymore. They show up with the spiel, and Dad politely tells them that the Dockworkers aren't interested."

"Huh. Yeah. I can just see that." Greg grimaced. "But you know, I was just thinking. Sophia … the way she was getting around attacking people, is it just me, or was she about the best recruiter for the Empire out there?"

The idea came as a bit of a shock, but the more I thought about it, the more it made a twisted kind of sense. "Actually, I hate to say it, but you're right. If I didn't have Medhall and you, and if one of those guys had come up to me and said they'd protect me from Sophia and all I had to do was show up at a meeting or two …" I paused, thinking it through. "Would I be a bad person if I said I'd be tempted?"

Greg put his arm around my shoulder, returning my side-hug from before. "You'll never be a bad person, Taylor. And we're never going to have to find the answer to that one, thank God."

"Yeah." I snuggled into the hug, finding it comfortable. "I like things the way they are right now, thank you very much."

He squeezed my shoulders. "Me, too."



End of Part Eleven

 

[Enochi]

Eh not sure if I like the romance sub-plot. Its fine but eh I dunno wasn't an angle that drew me to the story. A good set-up chapter but I look forward to more Medhall scenes as I feel that's the best part of the story.

 

[Ack]

Eh not sure if I like the romance sub-plot. Its fine but eh I dunno wasn't an angle that drew me to the story. A good set-up chapter but I look forward to more Medhall scenes as I feel that's the best part of the story.

Click to shrink...

It won't be a huge part of the plot.

Taylor's more of a Useless Girlfriend than anything.

 

[Robert Stadler]

I like the sort-of resonance between this chapter and Slippery Slope. It's nice to balance out the "Taylor joins the E88" story with "Taylor joins Medhall but is in no way remotely sympathetic to the neo-Nazis, and will be horrified when she learns of the connection."

 

[Scopas]

Excellent shout-out at the end. It got a very appreciative chuckle out of me. I do like it when Danny isn't an idiot, seeing how he seems pretty capable in canon when he's not being absolutely crushed by emotional weight and his own failures as a parent, so it's good to see him warning T&G. I'm not a huge fan of romance in Worm, but I am liking the relationship between this Greg and this Taylor. It's quite wholesome and doesn't feel at all forced or toxic, which makes it practically unique in Worm.

Overall, this was an excellent cool-down chapter. I bet the Book in Gladly's hands is going to cause some sort of fuck-up down the way, though, especially if Gladly tries to claim credit for Accord's ideas or something equally stupid.

 

[Crazael]

Hell, if I had a total brain meltdown and joined, and Mr. Anders found out, I might end up losing my spot at Medhall. There was no way I wanted to risk that.

Click to shrink...

While i totally get her concern, and under normal circumstances it would absolutely be a valid concern, i can't help but be amused by the idea that he likely ordered the receuitment in the first place.

 

[Zackarix]

I bet the Book in Gladly's hands is going to cause some sort of fuck-up down the way, though, especially if Gladly tries to claim credit for Accord's ideas or something equally stupid.

Click to shrink...

But what if he doesn't take credit for it? After all, Gladly is pretty focused on finding the true author.

It would be so funny if helping out with a random homework assignment is what finally gets one of Accord's save-the-world plans set in motion.

 

[Robert Stadler]

But what if he doesn't take credit for it? After all, Gladly is pretty focused on finding the true author.

It would be so funny if helping out with a random homework assignment is what finally gets one of Accord's save-the-world plans set in motion.

Click to shrink...

I assumed that that's where this story is going. It also fits with the theme of non-powered individuals' being surprisingly effective when they actually approach problems sensibly.

I do wish we had gotten to see Sophia's self-reflection after she was defeated by an unpowered Greg Veder, armed with nothing more than an ironing board and janitorial supplies. Hopefully that will be in the next chapter.

 

[RJ_The_Berg]

I've been waiting months for this chapter!

Generally agreeing with people that the romance angle is nice, but not the things drawing me in, with Medhall and Taylor's interactions with them being the main draw.

I like the sort-of resonance between this chapter and Slippery Slope. It's nice to balance out the "Taylor joins the E88" story with "Taylor joins Medhall but is in no way remotely sympathetic to the neo-Nazis, and will be horrified when she learns of the connection."

Click to shrink...

I agree.

 

[SlickRCBD]

While i totally get her concern, and under normal circumstances it would absolutely be a valid concern, i can't help but be amused by the idea that he likely ordered the receuitment in the first place.

Click to shrink...

I think it would be even more amusing if Taylor says something to the effect of not wanting to risk her position at Medhall by joining the E88 and that she wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Anders by her joining a gang like the E88.

 

[Crazael]

I think it would be even more amusing if Taylor says something to the effect of not wanting to risk her position at Medhall by joining the E88 and that she wouldn't want to disappoint Mr. Anders by her joining a gang like the E88.

Click to shrink...

I can just imagine the barely controlled groan of frustration when he finds out about it.

 

[Ack]

Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern

Part Twelve: A New Player

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Wednesday
Taylor

"… so there we were, in that little kitchen area, yeah?" Greg gestured for emphasis as the bus rolled through the city on the way to Medhall. "They're going we can't hide in here, so I point at the maintenance door I'd left open. In there, I said."

Today, for the first time, we were each wearing our Medhall working clothes on the bus. In the absence of Emma and Sophia's particular brand of vitriol, we'd changed in the bathrooms just before walking out the door. He'd helped me tie the black armband on my sleeve, and I'd done the same for him.

Julia might have tried to stop us, but she didn't have Emma's network of tattletales to keep an eye on my every move. So we were gone before she ever realised I wasn't going to be in the cafeteria.

I nodded, visualising the scene. I knew the kitchenette well by now. The funny thing was, until I'd first heard about how Greg got there, I hadn't even thought about the maintenance access door. "What'd they say?"

Greg put such a profound look of disgust and distaste into his expression and voice, I had to giggle. "What's in there? Like I'd just asked them to go swimming in sewage or something."

Somehow, I wasn't surprised. "How'd you get them to go in there anyway?"

"Wasn't me." Greg shook his head. "Ms. Harcourt did that. She took one look at it and said it has the supreme advantage of not being out here. In there, ladies, immediately! … and you know, I coulda begged and pleaded all day and not moved them. She said it once, and they went in, meek as you please. Just in time, too. Sophia showed up just after Ms. Harcourt got in and closed the door."

"Yeah, she's pretty cool," I said. "Scary, but cool. I want to learn how to do that thing where she can glare at you even when her back's turned."

Greg snorted. "I just want to learn how to be able to say, do this and not have people look at me like I'm stupid and ask whyyyy?" For the last word, he tacked on the most obnoxious nasal whine I'd ever heard.

"Hahaha, yes," I agreed. "That would also be amazing to learn. So, what's it like back there in those maintenance spaces, anyway? You said one time it was like secret passages."

Greg rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like a nerd. It's not actually that cool. Basically, it's unlit for the most part, but if you're supposed to be going in there you get a headlamp. They don't bother painting the walls, so it's raw brick or concrete or wood, and it's not nearly as wide as the corridors in the public areas." He waved his hand over his head. "Also, some of the spaces are a little bit low. You don't get elevators or even full-on staircases to go from floor to floor, just little cramped affairs or even ladders. And if it's been a while since the pest control guys have been through, you get spiders and spiderwebs, and the occasional rat. We're supposed to report rat droppings and stuff."

I nodded to show I was paying attention. "Wouldn't you get lost? I mean, you went from a set of bathrooms on one level to right next to Tracey's workspace on my level, all in a couple of minutes."

He chuckled hollowly. "Yeah, you can thank the guys for that. They deliberately got me lost in there a couple of times, then left me to wander aimlessly with the weakest light they had until I learned to find my way around. It wasn't fun at the time, but it did the job."

"Throwing you in at the deep end, huh?" I nudged his shoulder with mine sympathetically.

"Eh, I survived." He chuckled. "They were trying to spook me by telling horror stories about The Lost Intern, who went in there twenty years ago and was still wandering around trying to find his way out, subsisting on rats and spiders. For a while there, that felt like me. But now? I'm good."

"Yeah, nobody can argue with that." I grinned. "Especially not Sophia."

<><>​

PRT Building ENE
Holding Cells

Emily Piggot rarely came down this far into the building, and never without a good reason. She had far too much on her plate to go wandering at random through the building, and anyone she normally wanted to talk to got escorted to her office. But she was here this time because she wanted to be.

The guard put a key—an actual metal key—into the oversized lock and turned it all the way around twice, to the accompaniment of clicks and clacks within the mechanism. Finally, the lock opened, and the guard waved her through. Her escort—nobody came down here without an escort—followed her in.

She moved along the row until she saw Stalker, hunched on her bunk. The girl wasn't wearing the specialized cuffs Armsmaster had developed, mainly because the cell itself had been set up to contain her. There was enough electricity running through the walls, floor, ceiling and bars to fry a medium-sized cow.

"Miss Hess," she said curtly.

Sophia looked up. Her eyes were still inflamed by whatever the Veder kid had sprayed in her face, but at least she could still see. "What the fuck do you want, Piggy?" she sneered.

Her escort opened his mouth to say something, but Emily shook her head. Hess had so much shit hanging over her right now that disciplining her for something the other Wards almost certainly did on a daily basis wasn't the slightest bit fair or equitable. "Just here to pass on some news. Something I heard, earlier. I thought you might be interested. About the boy called Greg Veder."

"What, Veder died already?" Hess shook her head, a superior look on her face. "He got me but I got him too. Little shit shouldn't have fucked with me. None of them should've fucked with me."

It was too much. Emily laughed out loud, something she hadn't done in … years, maybe? Far too long, anyway. She finished up by chuckling and shaking her head. "Oh, no. Didn't you notice? He had an ironing board up against his chest. Your arrow only gave him a flesh wound. That whole little murder spree of yours only managed to kill one person." She showed her teeth. "And for that one, you are going down. But that's not even what I'm here for."

Hess looked confused. "But the woman in the car … it went over the cliff, didn't it?"

"Hung up on the edge," Piggot explained with relish. "Remember the girl called Taylor Hebert? According to Medhall, she volunteered to climb into that car with a rescue sling and got Ms. Grimshaw to safety, just before it went all the way over. And Grayson survived too, because Ms. Hebert kept her head and called security, and they got him to medical attention in time. She also reportedly figured out you were Shadow Stalker and had the security team pull back before I ever contacted Max Anders with that same information."

"Fucking Hebert," growled Hess. "Why couldn't she just lie down and die already?"

"Because as far as I can see, she's ten times the hero you'll ever be, even without powers," Emily said bluntly. "I've never even met the girl, but I'd offer her a spot interning for the PRT in a heartbeat if she ever chose to leave Medhall, and if we had such a position open. And that's still not what I'm here to tell you about."

Emily was momentarily glad that Hess' powers didn't extend to destructive eye-beams, from the glare the girl was throwing her way. "So what the fuck did you come down here to waste my time about?"

The moment was delicious. "Do you read the ParaHumans Online site?" Emily prompted gently.

"Yeah, so what? Did someone out me on it?" Hess leaned forward. "Because that's fifty kinds of bullshit if they did."

"No, no." Emily shook her head. "We've managed to keep that particular aspect out of the public eye. Your family's safe. No, it's one particular username you might be familiar with. Void Cowboy?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Hess shook her head dismissively. "He's a total loser and a waste of space. Comes up with ten times as many stupid ideas as anyone else."

Emily smiled; a rare expression for her, but this occasion demanded it. "You might know him better as Greg Veder. That's who took you down."

Finally, she'd managed to puncture the look of sneering superiority that Hess had managed to maintain almost all the way through the conversation. Hess' look of total shock and disgust made up for all the verbal barbs. "What the fuck? That can't be right! There's no fucking way!"

"I assure you, it's true." Emily turned away from the cell and started back down the corridor. "I learned about it first thing this morning. And that's what's all over PHO. How Void Cowboy took down Shadow Stalker. Assault is still laughing about it. So are the Wards." She paused and looked back to where Hess' face was pressed against the bars. "Everyone on the internet is laughing at you. Personally. Shadow Stalker is a joke."

As the guard let Emily back through the barred gate, Hess' screams of frustrated rage continued to echo along the corridor.

The ride back up in the elevator was … pleasant. Enjoyable, even.

Screw my life over? I'll return the favour in ways you can't even imagine.

She had very few pleasures in life, but it turned out schadenfreude was one of them.

<><>​

Taylor

The bus pulled up outside Medhall and we got off. Along with Greg, I stepped to the side to let the other passengers move along while I took a moment to look up at the building and heave a sigh of satisfaction. Winslow was a lot less unpleasant than it used to be, but there were still a lot of bad memories wherever I went in that place. Short of home itself, Medhall was where I could go to be … me.

"Ready to go and make the world a better place?" I asked Greg. The question was rhetorical; I already knew the answer.

"Hell yeah," he agreed enthusiastically, as predicted. "Let's—whoa!"

Later, security camera footage would show that the bunch of Merchants had been lurking around the far side of the bus shelter; as I went to walk across to the steps leading up to the main entrance of Medhall, they surged past us. Greg, with his backpack half over his shoulder, was pulled around off-balance when one of them grabbed it and yanked hard. Another snared my shoulder-bag and gave me a hard shove. I went staggering back as the bag came free of my arm, and the muggers started to run off.

They got all of three yards before they had to detour around a tall, muscular black guy who was coming the other direction. Dressed neatly in a button-down shirt and jeans, he was inches taller than me, with his hair in neat cornrows, but he couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Still, he had moves.

The one with Greg's backpack tried to jink to the left around the big guy but copped a clothesline to the neck for his trouble. His feet went out from under him and he landed on his back; meanwhile, Tall Dark and Handsome caught Greg's bag out of mid-air and tossed it to his other hand. Seeing this, the Merchant who'd grabbed my bag went to go to the right, cutting farther out around him. It didn't help much; swung like a club, the backpack extended the big guy's reach, slamming into the bag-snatcher's gut and putting him on the ground as well.

If they'd just accepted their losses and run off at this point, it would've all been fine from my point of view. But they'd apparently decided my bag and Greg's backpack were their property now, and that was that. Three of them crowded the ad hoc Good Samaritan, shouting and grabbing at the backpack, while one went to scoop up my bag from where it'd been dropped. All this had happened so fast, I was still recovering from being shoved, steadying myself against the side of the bus shelter.

The big guy demonstrated why it was a bad idea to get in close to him; he kicked one under the kneecap and elbowed another in the head, more or less in the same move. They both went down, one screaming obscenities while his fellow just crumpled like a rag doll. Mr T-D-H went to fend off the third one with his right hand while swinging Greg's backpack a second time at the one trying to grab my bag. The backpack collected with a solid thud, sending that guy over backward, but the other one flicked out a switchblade and slashed at him with it.

Too late, I saw the glint of silver. "Look out!" I called. The blade came around, parting the big guy's sleeve as he tried to pull back, and drawing red behind it. The guy with the knife moved in, swinging it aggressively.

Which was when Greg crash-tackled the knife-guy from behind. The big black guy stepped neatly out of the way and they both hit the ground hard. Greg had learned from his previous experience though; he got up fast and kicked the knife out of reach, while his opponent was still trying to catch his breath.

And that was when the guards came bolting out of Medhall, waving tasers and yelling at everyone to stay the hell where they were.

<><>​

A Few Minutes Later
Greg

"How's your arm?" asked Taylor of the guy—he'd introduced himself as Brian—who'd saved their bags. A couple of the medical staff from the clinic had come outside and patched his arm up. Stitches apparently weren't required, but the wound would need to be kept clean.

Fortunately, the security cameras in the lobby had captured the whole scene, and the guards were talking to the cops who'd shown up. One of the Merchants had made a run for it, but the others were all too stunned from the fight to get away. The officers had spoken to Greg and Taylor briefly, mainly to get their details in case more information was needed later.

Bradley, Greg knew, would also be interested in what had happened. Greg intended to give him chapter and verse. He hoped there'd be some sort of reward in it for Brian.

"It'll be fine," Brian said, moving his fingers carefully. "I'll just get out of your hair now."

"No, no, seriously, no." Taylor got that adorably stern look she used when she was putting her foot down. "Hey, Bradley!" She waved over the burly guard, who'd just exited the main doors.

"Taylor, Greg," Bradley acknowledged, moving to stand in front of them. "I'm Bradley Fieldmark, head of security. I didn't catch your name."

"Brian Laborn, sir." He was taller than Bradley by a couple of inches, but in muscle mass they seemed to be pretty even. It looked to Greg like they were each sizing the other up. The can I take him? glances were pretty obvious when a guy knew what to look for. Carefully, Brian shook Bradley's hand. "I don't want to cause any inconvenience."

"Inconvenience, hah!" Taylor forged onward. "Bradley, Brian here just stopped a bunch of lowlives from stealing our stuff right outside the building, and he got hurt doing it. Can we do something nice for him?"

Greg had seen Bradley impassive, and he'd seen him angry. But he'd never actually seen him amused before. An eyebrow raised, and one corner of Bradley's mouth crooked upward. "I'll see what Mr. Anders has to say about it," he finally said. "Just wait here a moment." Moving off, he took his phone out of his pocket.

"He'll say yes, you'll see," Greg said. "Mr. Anders is a great guy."

"Yeah," Taylor agreed. "And you saved our stuff. Thank you so much for that, by the way. Do you do martial arts? Because the way you kicked their asses was amazing."

Brian nodded reluctantly. "I, uh, started out with boxing, but I've done MMA for a couple of years, yeah." He looked from Taylor to Greg and back again. "Aren't you two a little young to be working here?"

"We're interns," Greg explained proudly. "Taylor there's basically been their fair-haired child since she uncovered some of Coil's moles in the building."

Taylor flushed. "Hey, that's not fair. You've done your bit too." She turned to Brian. "Greg here took on Shadow Stalker and knocked her out with a fire extinguisher when she went villain and invaded the building."

Brian stared at Greg. "You did what again now?"

"Oh, it's all over PHO by now," Greg said, ducking his head. "And someone leaked my online username, so everyone's melting down all over the place. People are actually, literally, calling for the PRT to enact Master/Stranger protocols on me, personally. Because apparently Void Cowboy couldn't get it right even if someone cut off my left hand."

"But … why did Shadow Stalker invade the Medhall building?" Brian couldn't seem to get his head around that part.

Greg met Taylor's eye, and she shook her head slightly. They both looked back at Brian. "Sorry, we're not actually allowed to say," Taylor told him.

"But let's just say it's linked to how Stalker's a spiteful, hateful psycho bitch," Greg added. "Unless you're a Stalker fan, in which case I'm sorry you had to find out this way."

Brian shook his head slowly. "Nope. I'm … well, I'm not exactly a fan of hers, either. The opposite, really. She, uh, she really hurt a friend of mine one time. Shot him with a broad-head arrow. Nearly killed him."

"That's what she shot Mr Grayson with," Taylor said with a nod. "And Greg, too. Though Greg came prepared."

"Ironing board," Greg said in answer to Brian's querying glance. "Best I could do at short notice."

"And your best is pretty good, these days," Bradley said, coming back over. "Mr Anders has approved a personal reward as a thank-you from Medhall, Mr Laborn. He's signing the forms right now. Taylor, Tracey called to say she's waiting on you, and to get your purse snatched on your own time."

"Oh, ha ha." Taylor grinned. "Thanks again, Brian. I'll see you around sometime. Later, Greg." She paused and turned to Bradley. "Hey, do you think you'd have an opening in security for someone like Brian? You saw how he cleaned those guys' clocks."

"I, uh, I don't think—" began Brian.

"Hey, yeah," Greg chimed in enthusiastically. "I mean, you were going to try to train me how to do security work when I got in a lucky fluke against Shadow Stalker. Brian here's way more qualified than I am."

Bradley rubbed his chin and looked at Taylor with his eyebrows raised. She didn't say anything more, but she looked as though she thought it was a great idea. "… give me your contact details," he said eventually. "I'll speak to Mr. Anders about it."

Taylor beamed as she headed for the front doors, bag slung over her shoulder, and Greg didn't blame her. It was turning out to be a good day.

<><>​

Grue
An Hour Later
The Undersiders' Base

Brian let himself in through the metal door, then locked it behind him. Several grocery bags dangled from his hand, but the dressing on his arm didn't hamper him too much as he climbed the spiral staircase. No dogs barked, so he figured Rachel was out.

"What happened?" Lisa called out before he even got to the top. "You're fifteen minutes later than usual."

"So he had a second chai latte extra pretentious with almond yak milk," Alec drawled over the sound of his latest first-person shooter. "No big. Unless it gives him gas like it did that one time."

Shaking his head, Brian entered the common area and dumped the bags on the table. Lisa spotted the dressing and her eyebrows raised. "You've been in a fight, Brian? That's not like you."

"Not really a fight. More like a scuffle." He collapsed on the sofa. "A bunch of Merchants decided to bag-snatch a pair of Medhall interns just when I was heading to my favourite coffee place. They went to run past me, and I chose not to let 'em. One of them got all blade-happy with me. I just got cut the once, then one of the interns tackled him. Skinny kid, too. Wouldn't have thought he had it in him."

"And Medhall patched you up themselves on the spot," guessed Lisa. "Well, I guess it saves you ruining another couch."

"I liked that couch," Alec said, right on cue.

Brian waved off the interruption. "But that's not the weirdest thing. It was just a couple of interns, right? Fifteen, sixteen? He was dressed like every maintenance worker I've ever seen, down to the boots. She had on some pretty sharp business wear. And just on their say-so, Max Anders himself had this couriered down to me." He pulled the now-unsealed envelope out of his pocket. "Also, I may just get a job offer, working security there."

Lisa took the envelope and read out the handwritten inscription on the side. "'To Mr Brian Laborn, in Deepest Appreciation'. Huh." Opening it, she fanned out the twenties she found inside along with the copy of the signed receipt, and whistled softly. "Damn," she muttered. "Five hundred bucks from the desk of Max Anders, just for saving a couple of interns from being mugged?"

Alec put his controller down. "What, really? We're in the wrong business. I'll be back soon." He made to get up from the couch.

"Don't even think about it," Brian said tiredly. "And that's not even the weirdest part. Has anyone been on PHO today?" Looking from Alec to Lisa, he knew immediately the answer was 'no'.

"Why?" asked Lisa suspiciously. "What have you done?"

Brian shook his head, the grin breaking out on his face again. He'd checked briefly on the way home, but he'd wanted to be comfortably situated on the couch in order to properly appreciate it. "Not me. You'll see."

"Now I really do want to see." Lisa took her laptop from the chair arm and opened the screen. She started clicking through the tabs, then blinked. "You're shitting me."

He had his phone out by that time, scrolling through the same messages she was obviously finding. "I shit you not."

Alec paused his game and used the controller to call up PHO on his game screen. "Void Cowboy took down Shadow Stalker? I don't fucking believe it."

Brian's grin was now so wide he couldn't control it. "Believe it. I spoke to the kid himself. He's the one who tackled the Merchant off me. Nice guy, pretty well switched on. Name's Greg. Interns for Medhall."

Lisa wasn't talking anymore; instead, she was giggling as she clicked onto different threads and read them through at a glance. "Holy shit, it's real. It's really real."

Alec's voice was disbelieving. "The biggest fucking dork on the east coast took down the shadow bitch. And there's footage." A moment later, his face fell. "Aww, they blurred out her face."

"Secret identity shit." Lisa shook her head. "Doesn't matter. The PRT's not saying much about it, but what they are saying is very informative. Shadow Stalker just torched her last bridge, after loading it down with drums of napalm. She could've taken a dump in the middle of Piggot's desk and not gotten into this much trouble. This is bye-bye from Brockton Bay, and the hero scene, forever." Reaching over, she high-fived Brian without even looking.

"Oh shit, oh shit." Alec had actual glee in his voice now, for about the first time ever. "Someone put the takedown to music. They overlaid her face with a sad-face clown emoji." He set it to play on the big screen, and Brian leaned over to watch.

He lost count of how many times they played it back through, but when Rachel came back from her walk, she grumpily asked why they were still laughing.

<><>​

Taylor

The day was passing uneventfully. Because Tracey still had her arm in a sling, I was delegated to do anything that required more than a few lines of typing, while she handled the tasks that just required point-and-click. I was perfectly happy to help her out like that, and she mentioned a few times how pleased she was that I could actually type (unlike some people she'd seen in the office environment, who embodied the classic Hunt and Peck style).

Having finished one particular document and shot it back over to her, I got up, stretched, and left my desk to go make some more coffee. Tracey handed me her cup without even looking up, and I grinned as I went over to the sink and rinsed it out. Not a word had passed between us, and yet we were working like a well-oiled machine.

As the water was boiling, I wandered back to where she was working, then waited for a pause in her mouse-clicking. "Tracey … I was wondering if you could answer a question about Justin for me?"

Slowly, she looked around in my direction. We knew each other well enough that she was aware I'd never bring up his name without good reason, but I could still see the pain in her eyes and hear it in her voice. "What about him?"

I grimaced, realising far too late that this was probably going to sound stupid and self-serving. But I'd already brought him up. The damage was done. "That book he got for me and Greg for our class assignment … uh, who would he have gone to for that? Our teacher really wants to get in touch with them."

She blinked already red-rimmed eyes. "Book? Oh, that book." A frown crossed her face as she thought about it. "I think he might have said something about talking to Mr Grayson about it, but I'm not sure."

Mr Grayson, who was still on the critical list. Well, Gladly's gonna have to wait a little longer. "Thanks, I appreciate it." I turned to go back into the kitchenette.

"Wait." Her voice was almost pleading. I turned back, raising my eyes questioningly. "That book. He was really pleased about it. Like he'd played a huge practical joke on someone. Did it actually help you?"

"Help us?" I nodded firmly. "Everyone else in the class got seventies and eighties for their presentations. Greg and I got ninety-seven percent. We didn't just win; we blew them clear out of the water and into orbit. And all because of that book."

"Good." She nodded firmly. "I'm glad. And I think he'd be glad too. He thought a lot of you, you know? Especially after you discovered those moles."

"Thought a lot of me, or just of my coffee?" I asked with a smirk to show I was kidding.

Her grin was watery, but it was there. "A little bit of column A, a little bit of column B," she decided, waggling her good hand from side to side. She took a deep breath. "The funeral's next Saturday, if you wanted to attend. It's not mandatory, but we'd certainly appreciate the support. There'll be a wake afterward at the Augustus Country Club."

"Of course I'll attend," I said at once. "I'll tell Greg, too. He'll want to be there."

This time, her smile was a little less watery and a little more genuine. "That would be amazing, Taylor. And I'm sure he would. You're lucky to have a boyfriend like him."

I blinked. What was it with adults and assumptions? "Uh … Greg's not my boyfriend. I mean, we're friends, but not like that." At least, I don't think so?

"Oh, sorry. My bad." Her smile turned rueful. "I didn't mean to put my foot in it."

"No, no, it's okay." I rolled my eyes and chuckled. "Dad made the same mistake. Apparently, teenagers can't come over and study at each other's houses without magically ending up in a relationship with each other."

She nodded to acknowledge this. "Well, I'll just amend what I was saying to 'you're lucky to have a friend like Greg'. Better?"

"It's okay, and yeah, I know I'm lucky." The coffee machine burbled audibly, and I held up my hand. "Back in a sec."

"Go," she said with a genuine grin, and a flick of the fingers from her be-slinged arm. "Return with the speed of a thousand baristas!"

Giggling, I went.

<><>​

Greg

"Okay, kid, you ready?"

Greg took a deep breath and looked across the impromptu ring at Bradley. "Not really, but let's do this anyway."

The older man grinned briefly. "Good to see you're being realistic about this." He shook his arms out, still clad in his security-guard shirt. "You did good today, just like you did against Shadow Stalker, but you gotta know you were lucky both times. If you're gonna keep getting into situations like that, defending Taylor against assholes or even just fighting your own battles, skill lets you make your own luck."

That made a whole lot of sense. "Okay, so what do I do?"

Bradley tilted his head slightly, apparently thinking. "You've kinda got a knack for body checks, so let's start with that, and get you good with them before moving on to more complicated stuff."

Greg nodded, swallowing nervously. "So … you want me to try to knock you down?" His brain, entirely unbidden, started doing calculations about exactly how unlikely that was going to be.

He hadn't known his brain was capable of cackling madly in terror, and wished it would stop.

"Nah, not me. I'm the advanced class." Bradley stepped back, and one of the other security guards stepped forward. Greg had been introduced to Melody a little while ago, and had immediately decided he didn't want to get on her bad side, ever. She didn't talk much—well, she hadn't said anything to him at all—but a twitch of expression could go a long way toward covering that. "Go ahead. Knock her down."

Greg stared at the blonde security guard. "Oh, boy," he muttered, then raised his voice. "Okay, just saying, I'll be trying to keep my hands from going anywhere inappropriate." He had zero doubt that if she even suspected him of trying to grope her, his life expectancy would be dramatically shortened.

In reply, she pulled the classic move of extending her arm and making a come-at-me gesture. Her eyes bored into his.

Well, shit, he thought. This is not going to end well.

He charged.

Two minutes later, as he stared up at the ceiling for the fifth time, he wished he could be this correct when it came to his exams.

<><>​

Taylor
Later

I stepped out of the elevator and into the Medhall lobby at just after three, a spring in my step. Tracey and I had gotten past the mention of Justin with barely a sniffle, and I'd dived right back into taking written reports and typing them up, then correlating them with existing data.

Fully aware of the potential consequences to Medhall and to my own budding career as a paid intern if I missed anything important, I'd made sure not to just skim over the data as I entered it. As such, any time I found any outliers, I made sure to check with Tracey about it. This resulted in a few queries being sent up the line to be double-checked. I'd expressed concern about wasting people's time, but Tracey had shaken her head. "Given your previous performance, they'd rather we raised half a dozen false alarms than skip over something that's real."

My fears allayed, I'd gone back to it, and gotten all the way to the end of my working day without any alarms going off or other untoward event. (Crazed ex-Wards attacking the building were the exception rather than the rule, Tracey assured me. I had yet to be convinced.)

"Hey, Taylor." Greg came limping over to meet me. "You look happy."

"It's been a good day," I said, then looked him over. Nothing else seemed to be wrong with him except for the limp. "What happened? Did you fall badly when you tackled that guy?"

"Well, no," he admitted. "But Bradley said I could've done it better. So after two, he borrowed me from the maintenance crew, and him and a couple of the others started giving me lessons in how to really put someone on the ground. And the mat wasn't exactly soft. So yeah, I got a few more bruises." Ruefully, he rubbed his butt.

"Aww, I wish I could've been there," I said immediately. "I want to learn how to kick ass too."

He rolled his eyes as we headed for the exit. "Well, I mainly got my ass kicked but yeah, I can see where I was going wrong before. They showed me how to do body checks, basic throws and locks. Really simple stuff, but it works like a charm if you do it right."

"That's really cool." I jabbed him gently with my elbow. "What's not cool is how you got to do that stuff while I was doing boring office work."

He ducked aside from the prod. "Okay, okay. I'll tell Bradley you want in on it, too. Maybe we can make a time on the weekend, after work, so he can teach us both."

I nodded. "We can bring our folks along to meet him and the others. I know Dad would probably like to meet him. He got along with Justin and Tracey." I blinked as I recalled what she'd told me. "Oh, uh, talking about the weekend, Justin's funeral is on Saturday. Can you make it?"

"Sure." Greg nodded. "I didn't know him all that well, but he was a pretty cool guy."

"Good." I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, then let go as the bus pulled up and we got on board. We settled into our seats—he let me have the window, as always—and I looked out at the imposing building we'd just left. "I'm glad you're the one who's interning at Medhall with me, and not someone else."

"Yeah, me too." He chuckled. "Can you imagine Emma trying to do the work you're doing?"

"Oh, god." I rolled my eyes as the bus started off. "I was sorting out files that had bugs in them. Real live ones. The first time one ran over her hand, she would've screamed so loud, Mr Anders would've thought the fire alarm had gone off. And all the typing I was doing today? Have you seen how proud she is of her nails?"

"Yeah." Greg shook his head. "Every time I saw her in class, she was getting someone else to do her work for her." His grin widened. "If she was learning maintenance … wow. That attitude would've made her no friends at all."

I pursed my lips thoughtfully. "I don't think she ever had friends, not since me. Just people it was advantageous for her to talk to, and people who thought they owed her loyalty. Not anyone who liked her for her."

Greg snorted. "Is there really a 'her' there anymore?"

"I have no idea, and I don't really care." I smirked. "But wherever the cops have got her, I'm pretty sure she doesn't want to be there right now."

"Damn right."

<><>​

The Barnes Household
Alan Barnes

"Da-ad," whined Emma, wandering out into the living room. "Can I go to the mall for an hour?"

Her father turned to look at her. "No." That one word was cold and harsh. "When I say you're grounded, young lady, I mean you're grounded. You've already been expelled from Winslow, and Immaculata has refused to accept you on the very reasonable grounds that you're facing an upcoming criminal trial. The police have accepted my word that you're not going to run off somewhere. I'm not going to take the risk of you wandering about and adding to the number of lawsuits already hanging over my head."

"But I'm bored."

"Which makes me even less likely to let you go out," he snapped back. "If you'd chosen to alleviate your boredom by doing literally anything else other than bully your previous best friend, we wouldn't be in this mess. Go and read a book or something."

"Reading's stupid. I want to go and see my friends."

Yes, your friends. Who at least enabled you, and probably encouraged you, in tormenting Taylor. Not on my watch.

He drew a deep breath and let it out, trying for a reasonable tone. "You have a TV in your room. Go and watch that."

"There's nothing good on." She punctuated her words by stamping her foot on the carpet. Once, it might have been cute. Right now, it didn't serve to alleviate his mood much, or at all.

"Then go online." He huffed in irritation. "I thought teenagers were supposed to be the Internet Generation. Feel free to window-shop at online outlets but remember, I'll stop any purchase you don't run past me first." He hadn't destroyed her credit card—yet—but he'd arranged matters so any purchase popped up on his phone for him to okay first.

"Fine." She flounced upstairs, a good trick for someone wearing T-shirt and jeans. He heard her bedroom door open, then slam shut again.

One thing he knew she wouldn't do was sneak out her bedroom window. While it was designed to be easily opened in case of a fire, he'd arranged for a very loud fire alarm to be set up on all the upstairs windows, that triggered if they were opened more than four inches. She'd tested it exactly once; the ringing in his ears had taken an hour to go away, and he hadn't even been in the room at the time.

Sighing to himself, he settled down to re-read the letter from his firm. When stripped of the legal verbiage, it stated that his role in Shadow Stalker becoming a Ward in the first place did not reflect well on their good name, and that if he quietly resigned there wouldn't need to be any kind of unpleasant scene about it. In terms of aggravating his ulcers—he'd only had one before all this blew up, but now they were breeding—this came in right behind the other letter from the Bar, requesting that he show cause to retain his position as a lawyer in good standing, considering that very same character reference.

"What the fuck?" Emma's outraged squawk easily reached his ears through the thickness of her door and the distance between them. "Greg beat Sophia? Void Cowboy beat Sophia?"

His ulcers chose that moment to flare up, and he reached for the bottle of antacid.

I don't even want to know.

<><>​

Hookwolf

"So, what about the kid who stopped those bag-snatchers?" asked Max idly, holding his glass up to the light and swirling the ice gently. "I know he's black, but I don't like making an outlay without the chance of getting a return on it. Think he could work out? Maybe on the front desk?"

Bradley frowned. Laborn had definitely been husky enough, and the kid had solid training behind him. Taking on a bunch of degenerate lowlives just to save the property of two people he'd never met before, that was something Bradley could understand, intellectually at least. In his old cage-fighting days, it would've been called a 'face' move. And smacking that one guy around with the backpack … yeah, that showed style.

But Max had put his finger on the problem. Laborn was black. While Bradley didn't have as much of an issue with that as he would've if the kid had been a rag-head or some other type of Middle Easterner, it was definitely a thing. Still … "Didn't you say the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission was giving you flack for not showing enough diversity or some bullshit like that?"

"Yes, they're sniffing around us again." Max grimaced, then took a sip of his drink. "We've never been able to hire an Asian in any capacity without them either being an ABB mole from the beginning, or being pressured into being one by them after the fact. If we're going to fly under the radar, we need to have someone visible on board who we can point at and say, 'See? We hire minorities too!' Not just someone whose great-grandfather might've been black. Whoever they send to check us out needs to be able to know it without us telling them."

Bradley slugged back about half of his own drink, then fixed Max with a steady gaze. "So if I'm understanding you right, you want me to actually hire this guy?" This black guy, he didn't have to say out loud. "There's going to be some places in the building he just won't be able to go. And some of the others might get seriously pissy about it. You do realise this."

"It'll take a lot of outside pressure off us," Max pointed out. "I'll square it with the rest of the team. If you keep him on the front desk, maybe walking the floor where he's visible, the EEOC'll back off and go find someone else to make misery for. Of course, we're going to need a solid background check first, just in case. And if he fails that, you don't hire him."

Bradley shook his head. The things we do for the Hebert kid.

"Oh, and by the way." Max finished his glass and put it down. "Harcourt said Grimshaw and Hebert were sending reports of discrepancies back most of the afternoon. Most of them were fine, but there were a few hiding in the pack that aren't so fine. Not sure what's going on there, but it could be someone's got sticky fingers. I've got people looking into it."

"Huh." Bradley shook his head again, this time in admiration. "She's definitely got a nose for that sort of thing."

Max nodded. "She certainly does."



End of Part Twelve

 

[Cubbyhb1]

Being defeated by Void Cowboy is a disgrace truly impossible to recover from.

 

[macdjord]

"I assure you, it's true." Emily turned away from the cell and started back down the corridor. "I learned about it first thing this morning. And that's what's all over PHO. How Void Cowboy took down Shadow Stalker. Assault is still laughing about it. So are the Wards." She paused and looked back to where Hess' face was pressed against the bars. "Everyone on the internet is laughing at you. Personally. Shadow Stalker is a joke."

As the guard let Emily back through the barred gate, Hess' screams of frustrated rage continued to echo along the corridor.

Click to shrink...

Of all the ways you've handled Sophia over the years... I think this might be my favourite.

 

[Scopas]

Loved Piggot's takedown of Sophia. Only amateurs need thumbscrews to torture a prisoner, after all...

 

[Simonbob]

The backing of the E88 to help Brian get custody of his sister?

I dig it.

 

[SilverBadger]

Man, this was a great chapter. Poor Greg getting friend zoned that hard. I'll be curious to see how the Grue situation plays out. Especially since Taylor is crushing on him and it is on her word that Brian is getting offered a job.

Pure speculation, but I will be incredibly entertained if it comes out that Grue is a supervillain, which breaks Taylor's trust and heart, and ends up with Taylor dating Greg. Especially if Lisa uses Brian's job to betray Medhall to Coil.

Also, if it ever comes out that Bradley is Hookwolf, Greg is going to have a moment where he completely shorts out when he realizes he got hand to hand combat training from Hookwolf.

 

[Crazael]

Also, if it ever comes out that Bradley is Hookwolf, Greg is going to have a moment where he completely shorts out when he realizes he got hand to hand combat training from Hookwolf.

Click to shrink...

I can't wait. It will he hilarious.

 

[Ack]

Ok, Ack. It's time for me to make some comments. Scary ones. That will spook not only you, but me. Buckle up.



Boring but pretty detailed I guess.



This part of the chapter felt a bit off. It felt very SOD breaking for her to do this.



...Really? Delicious. Bruh. Piggot sounds weird IMO.



Why is Piggot saying this to her?



Again, why? To antagonize her?



I see that you tried to reason the chapter with these lines, but still felt like the Piggot/Shadow Stalker interaction was weird IMO.


.
Taylor feels like batman during the night. And during the day, she feels like a damsel in distress. I hope the analogy makes sense.



I like this dialogue.



Me to Taylor. Me too. I like this.



Ok this is weird. Why would a father say this? Maybe I'm the weird one.



Nice meme.



Yes... she's good at sniffing out moles, traitors and rats.

--

Overall a good chapter, but felt more like a filler chapter. But maybe my desire for Taylor to do more, to realize what her friends are, or to perhaps to get powers. I feel like a lot of things go in Taylors favour, more so than normal. I know this reply seems like I'm being ungrateful, I'm not. I'm just hoping you can see my perspective a bit, and maybe that will influence your writing forward (for any story and in a good way).

Click to shrink...

What some people forget is that Piggot dislikes capes. She will go out of her way to be legally unfair to them, if they've pissed her off. Note how she forbids Gallant from paying for the mess in the bank, and instead takes the money from some of the team members who can't afford it.

Once it was explained to her just how embarrassing it was for Sophia to be rekt by Void Cowboy, she couldn't resist.

Sophia had stamped a huge black mark across Piggot's career, so she returned the favour.

Man, this was a great chapter. Poor Greg getting friend zoned that hard. I'll be curious to see how the Grue situation plays out. Especially since Taylor is crushing on him and it is on her word that Brian is getting offered a job.

Pure speculation, but I will be incredibly entertained if it comes out that Grue is a supervillain, which breaks Taylor's trust and heart, and ends up with Taylor dating Greg. Especially if Lisa uses Brian's job to betray Medhall to Coil.

Also, if it ever comes out that Bradley is Hookwolf, Greg is going to have a moment where he completely shorts out when he realizes he got hand to hand combat training from Hookwolf.

Click to shrink...

Here's the thing. Greg isn't so much being friendzoned as they're each friendzoning each other, while at the same time crushing hard on each other. (Handholding, leaning on each other, sharing deepest secrets, etc).

Taylor admires Brian's kickassery and muscles, but she's not as starved for attention as she was in canon, and Greg is her rock.

Besides, if she wants muscles, she can ogle Bradley

However, yes, when/if Greg finds out about who Bradley is, he's gonna majorly bluescreen.

 

[Zackarix]

Alan Barnes being a reasonable parent? OOC and unbelievable.