By Steve2
Author's Note:
I didn't do it. I wasn't there. You're mistaking me for someone else. I was in Buffalo that day. Trust me. What're you – a cop? No? Okay then. Disclaimer: This story has a lot of swearing. There is no gratuitous sex here. Nada. There is, instead, a lot of swearing. You have been warned. Oh, and I don't own Worm, or anything else for that matter. This is a work of fiction.
-oo00oo-
Wednesday, September 9, 2009, 10:22am
Emma was on a mission. That mission: dump Taylor Hebert and show the world she was a survivor, that she was strong, and that she was not going to take any prisoners.
It was third period. She and Taylor shared a class. Emma sat next to Taylor. Taylor's book was on her desk, and her attention distracted by another student on Taylor's left. Perfect. Emma leaned over and poured some Krazy Glue on the cover of her book, and then put a paperback on the glue.
Taylor didn't see her do it, but she suspected it was her since she had the time and was nearby. But Taylor didn't know why her best friend would do that.
-oo00oo-
Monday, September 14, 2009, 7:55am
Taylor Hebert stepped off the city bus with a slew of other kids that morning. Now that she had her bus pass, she didn't want her father to drop her off at school anymore. Especially since she'd have to answer why she and Emma didn't ride to school together any longer.
As she walked into the school she was tripped by Emma who had hidden behind another girl. Taylor lost her balance and fell, her backpack spilling to the ground, and her lunch crushed by a math text. Students openly laughed as she got to her feet. Emma's laugh was the loudest.
-oo00oo-
Thursday, September 17, 2009, 12:10pm
Taylor sat near a few students, but not with anyone in the lunchroom. David Lynch (no relation), a fellow freshman and in her math class stopped by her table to ask her a math question. Answer given, he walked away, not thanking her. Oh well.
She had brought her lunch (as usual) which was laid out in front of her. Sandwich (homemade), juice (re-used bottle filled at home), and chips (purchased at store since neither she nor her father wanted to try making chips again – not after spending several hours cleaning up the mess from the last time.
She took a bite of her sandwich. Chewed. And spit it out. Her face recoiled in disgust. She pulled the top bread aside to look at the interior of her sandwich. There were now pencil shavings sprinkled everywhere. The popular girls' table broke out in laughter. Emma's braying laugh was loudest of all.
-oo00oo-
Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 7:49am
The hallways were crowded as Taylor made for her locker before classes began. For some reason there were more kids than normal in that area of the school and they kept elbowing her, telling her to watch out before she got stomped.
Annoyed, Taylor never noticed when her backpack zipper was unzipped, but she did notice a few elbow whacks later when the backpack was knocked ajar and her books, papers, and yes, lunch was spilled onto the floor.
It was no surprise, but it still hurt to see her fellow classmates, especially Emma, walk by, and walk on her assignments, books, and lunch. Emma especially took a vicious delight in stomping the brown bag flat.
-oo00oo-
Tuesday, September 22, 2009, 12:19pm
Taylor was beginning to despise the lunchroom. Something was liable to happen. It was only a matter of time. It usually was. She sat at an out-of-the-way table. It was small and no one else sat with her. Not even the other outcasts of the school. She was below even them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Madison head towards the lunch line. She must have cut others off as she exited the serving area moments later and headed towards Taylor. She began gathering up her things, putting the remaining lunch back in the brown paper bag it was in earlier.
"Oops!" Madison "tripped", spilling a cup of uneaten chocolate pudding over Taylor's math textbook. "Must have tripped. Oh well." She headed back to the popular girls' table. The same table where everyone was laughing and pointing at her.
-oo00oo-
Friday, September 25, 2009, 9:01am
Taylor sat at her desk in second period. This was another class she had come to despise. Not due to coursework, but due to curse-work.
"Hebert," Sophia Hess sneered behind her. "Why the fuck are you even in this class? Don't you have somewhere else to go? Like down to an alley and suck a merchant or something? You're a fucking loser, Hebert. You know that?"
Taylor turned to Sophia, a glare on her face. "Why are you saying mean things like that?"
"Because I can, and because you are worthless. I could give a shit if you lived or died. Everyone here thinks the same way. You are a total waste of space. So why don't you just fuck off and die?"
-oo00oo-
Monday, September 28, 2009, 3:01pm
The last school bell of the day rang and the throng of students began leaving Winslow as fast as they could. Taylor headed for her locker when she was tripped. Her backpack again went sprawling and books and papers came out where they were stepped on by the other students who were either complicit with Emma and Sophia's attempts to bully her or were just indifferent to her.
Taylor collected her things and headed towards her locker again. There were fewer students now. They were all headed for buses and other means to go home. Once at her locker, she noticed her lock was shiny from moisture. Further inspection of that moisture indicated it was glue. Rolling her eyes, she went to find maintenance.
She missed her bus home and had to walk.
-oo00oo-
Thursday, October 1st, 2009, 1:39pm
Location: 9th grade PE Class. Activity: Dodgeball.
Class had started 30 minutes earlier. However, it took about 15 minutes for the teams to be decided for the fun of playing that grand school sport: dodgeball. The idea for the sport was simple: get the ball and throw it at an opposing team member. If it hits them without them first catching it, they are out. If they catch it, then the person who threw it was out. What wasn't so simple to comprehend (at least for some players) was how the throws were to be made and the hits scored. Bloody noses were not uncommon.
The gym teacher, Mr. Stubbins, didn't care who was out or in. He just wanted the keep the little shits busy and out of his hair while he took a smoke break. His reasoning for doing this was simple: how much trouble could a class of 9th graders get into for a few minutes while he stood outside the door and puffed away?
The answer, of course, was quite a lot.
For example, Jimmy Woo noticed the absence of the teacher and nodded to his friend, Johnny Wu (who was on the opposing team) in a pre-arranged signal. Jimmy had been keeping track of the usual smoke-break times taken by Stubby, or Stooby, or whatever that old gym guy's name was. He had told Johnny and the two came up with a plan to impress his older brother who was in the ABB.
Emma had the ball and threw it. Johnny caught it in his stomach area and bent over as if hurt. All the players stopped to see the bent over and obviously hurting student.
"Oooohhh, Emma," Johnny said in pain. "Why'd you throw it so hard? You a brute or something?"
Emma's mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to take in what had happened. Was she a brute? Had she missed something?
Johnny, still bent over with the ball in his stomach area, had moved closer to Emma with staggered steps.
"Are you all right?" Emma asked as he came within arm's length of her.
"Ooooohh, it hurts, Emma. Here, why don't you take this ball," he said, handing her the ball while still bent over.
Emma took the ball and as soon as both of her hands were on the ball, then both of Johnny's hands went to the bottom of Emma's shorts and yanked them down to her ankles.
Johnny stood up and began laughing. That was all it took. The rest of the class (save Emma's friends) also broke out laughing.
"Love the Legend logo, Emma!" yelled one of the girls that had been targeted more than once by Emma and her sick pranks.
Emma quickly dropped the ball and pulled her shorts back up. Of all the days to wear her Legend underwear, she chastised herself mentally. "Shit! This day can't get any worse!" she snarled as she adjusted her shirt inside the shorts.
"Did you have to date Legend to get him to sign your undies, Emma?" Johnny inquired loudly.
"Shut up, fuck-face!" Emma replied. Her face had turned red.
Emma never saw Jimmy Woo come up behind her and slap her tush. She spun immediately and saw him give her a suggestive wink to even more laughter (primarily from the rest of the boys in the class), before he was pushed away by Emma's friends.
Emma screamed in frustration and yelled, "It can get worse! Fucking worst day ever!"
-oo00oo-
DESIGNATION… AGREEMENT.
-oo00oo-
Coach Stubbins, who did coach track and field, rushed back in despite carrying any extra 105 pounds, mostly around his gut. It didn't take him long to realize that those little shits had gotten up to something and that one of the girls was red faced and likely to tell someone if he didn't get her calmed down and out the door before he could retire at the end of the year.
"Barnes! You're done for the day. Head for the lockers. Meanwhile I think some laps are in order for you boys, right?"
"I'm excused too," Hess yelled over her shoulder as she took Emma to the locker room.
"You are," Stubbins said loudly to the retreating pair. Hess was on his track team. He figured she might give Barnes some of that emotional support crap he had heard of. It was better than letting her stay here and going ape-shit on whichever punk was responsible for whatever it is they did. Bastards.
Once in the locker room, Sophia checked for anyone else as Emma opened her locker. Once she verified the two were alone, she walked up to Emma and berated, "What the fuck, Emma? You need to be strong, like I told you."
Emma looked at her in confusion and replied, "What?"
"Shit happens, you know that. When it does, you need to just pull your shorts up, turn around, and punch that little fucker in his smug-ass fucking face! Knock some teeth out or something. Just don't take it!"
"Goddammit, Sophia, I can't be a superhero like you. You've got this great power and all I've got is a stupid, little shitty power." Emma sat on the bench in front of the lockers.
Sophia spent almost one entire second as shocked and then sat herself. "Wait," she clarified. "You have powers?! What the fuck?"
Emma knew the day would come when she would tell Sophia that she had powers. She had rehearsed it in her head many times. She would tell her friend about her powers and her friend would have respect for her. Her powers would be glorious. She would be somebody. She would be a contender.
However, at that moment, she wasn't thinking of her rehearsed speech and succinctly said, "Yeah, I have powers. I can assign rainbows to people's farts. Big damn deal."
Sophia didn't know how to process that. It was so… so… she had no words. "Wait. What?"
"See? That expression. That is why I didn't want to tell you earlier. It is a stupid power. Someone farts and I can sense the rainbow qualities of their gas. Big whoop. This is a useless power."
"Well, uh," Sophia thought of how to use that power. "What if you were on the top of a warehouse and needed to take some punks down below you. Could you do that?"
"Not unless I fell on them. I don't have brute ability with this fart power."
"Well, how about being able to sense all people in that warehouse?"
"I guess if someone were to send them some burritos with extra beans and they all ate them, then I might be able to tell how many people there were and where they might be in the warehouse as long as they all had gas and were farting enough. Maybe."
Emma, now dressed in school clothes, pulled a bottle of water from her gym bag and chugged the entire bottle down. The last 10 minutes had been a tiring experience for her.
"What is the range of your ability?" Sophia inquired, also getting dressed in her school clothes, which technically, wasn't that different from her gym attire.
"So far? About 10 to 15 feet. I'll be right back. Bladder calls."
Winslow was a school that had multiple levels. The gym was on the main floor. The locker rooms were also on the main floor. Emma found a (relatively) clean stall and took a seat. She tried to block out Sophia's latest crime scenario where rainbow-fart detecting could be useful. It was a lousy power. Plain and simple.
PISSSSPOWWW!
As Emma relieved herself, she had heard a sudden squirt at a loud velocity and the sound of a ceramic bowl breaking. Fortunately done, she got up from the toilet before the water that was now draining from the commode touched her shoes.
"What the fuck was that?" Sophia yelled, rushing into the toilet stall area.
Emma opened the door as Sophia looked around for confrontation. Sophia quickly noticed the water in the stall and the damage on the toilet itself. "What did you do?" she asked calmly.
"Nothing," Emma breathed hard, still startled by the sound that came from… somewhere. "I didn't do anything."
Not wanting to be blamed for anything, the two girls took off before the rest of the girls in the gym class showed up. No one saw them, so they had deniability.
What Emma didn't realize at that time was that she had shot a stream of pee at hydraulic pressure speed. Now, Pascal's law is the basis of hydraulic drive systems. As the pressure in the system is the same, the force that the fluid gives to the surroundings is therefore equal to pressure × area. In such a way, a small piston feels a small force and a large piston feels a large force. The pushing or pulling force of a hydraulic cylinder goes as follows:
F = Ab * pb - Ah * ph
F = Pushing Force in N
Ab = (π/4) * (Bottom-diameter)^2 [in m2]
Ah = (π/4) * ((Bottom-diameter)^2-(Piston-rod-diameter)^2)) [in m2]
pb = pressure at bottom side in [N/m2]
ph = pressure at cylinder head side in [N/m2]
Simple hydraulic cylinders have a maximum working pressure of about 70 bar. The next steps go to 140 bar, 210 bar, 320/350 bar and so on. In general, the cylinders are custom built. The stroke of a hydraulic cylinder is limited by the manufacturing process, or in this case, by the manufacturing of a new power in Emma. Generally, the majority of hydraulic cylinders have a stroke between 0, 3, and 5 meters, whereas 12-15-meter stroke is also possible, but for this length only a limited number of suppliers are on the market. For example, high-pressure water-guns are available up to 600 BAR, or 8000 PSI.
Simple, right?
No?
Then think of it this way: Pascal's law states that when there is an increase in pressure at any point in a confined fluid, there is an equal increase at every other point in the container. Since Emma's body was the container, and her new bullshit power increased the pressure on her bladder, this made her pee come shooting out as fast as a bullet. Which did an equal amount of damage as a bullet, had the bullet been a thin stream of yellow liquid.
In other words, her pee went through the porcelain commode in a straight line. It then went through the floor. It also went through the subfloor and did not stop until it had gone a meter below the concrete slab.
Of course, the janitor never noticed the hole in the concrete as the rest of the concrete subfloor was cracking and flaking off since it was successfully rotting. As for the commode being ruined and leaking, he knew it had to be either the Empire 88 or ABB gangs being punks again. Bastards. The lot of them. He got out his mop.
-oo00oo-
Thursday, October 1st, 2009, 4:32pm
Once home, Emma was still angry and embarrassed so cajoled her mother into taking her shopping. Shopping would do the trick. It never failed to cheer her up. This lasted all of nine minutes before she had to find a bathroom and relieve herself again.
Sale rung up, the saleswoman pointed to where the store bathrooms were and went to help the mother. As it happened, a loud road maintenance truck rumbled by at a slow pace, and a procession of cars behind it honking for the damn truck to get out of the way when Emma peed again, with the same results as earlier that day.
Pee-zing, a line of yellow went through the porcelain and into the floor. Horrified at what happened, her anger slipped and super-cool numbers began flooding into her head. Super-cool if she were a mathlete or something. She wasn't one and didn't get the significance of all the numbers save these: 1) she now understood how much liquid she could ingest before she had a force of pee to get rid of, and 2) even though the pee could move at lethal levels, it was still affected by gravity so a killing stream required a downward arc.
Emma was fast enough on her feet to make it out of the bathroom without the puddle being too big. She then grabbed her mother, the packages, and out the door they went. A few minutes later they were home and she ran upstairs to her room to call Sophia.
It didn't take long for her to get Sophia on the line, but it did take Sophia several minutes to figure out what Emma was saying since Emma was 1) excited, and 2) tended to sound like a chipmunk on crack when speaking fast which happened when she was excited. Sophia chuckled now and then when she thought about Emma getting laid.
Sophia finally put the phone to her ear and said, "Slow down, Emma. What is so important again?"
"I've got another power!" she admitted in a forced whisper, not wanting her parents to know. Hah! That was how she wanted to tell Sophia.
"What kind of power?"
"Oh… uh, I can pee really hard." Hmm, that definitely was not what she wanted to say to Sophia. There had to be a better way to spin that story.
"Everyone can do that."
"Hard enough to have a squirt go through the toilet and break it?"
"Shit! That was you?!"
"It was… and I just realized it is another fucking lame power. Christ, why can't I get something good," Emma complained.
Sophia shook her head and replied, "No idea. But you are sure as shit getting the short straw of the power club."
"Oh shit!"
"What?" Sophia tensed.
"How the hell am I going to go to the bathroom now? I keep breaking toilet bowls! I keep doing that, pretty soon everyone will know I have powers."
"Calm down," Sophia instructed. "You'll just have to hold it…"
"I can't hold it forever!" Emma snapped in irritation.
"I know that," Sophia snarked back. "Just hold it until we are at school tomorrow. I think I have a plan."
-oo00oo-
Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 8:56am
Between 1st and 2nd classes the next day, Sophia stood outside a door while Emma went to the bathroom again. As expected, there was another destroyed commode. The two escaped without detection.
"Is this the plan?" Emma asked as they hurried to the next class.
"No, but don't worry," Sophia said. "It's coming along. Just don't go again until this afternoon. Got it?"
"Yes, I got it."
-oo00oo-
Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 1:02pm
"You wanted to see me, Miss Hess?"
"Yes, ma'am. I wanted to let you know that I have been investigating those vandalisms in the school with the destroyed toilets."
"You have? Why, that's great. I can't even get the police to do anything."
"No surprise. I'm not even supposed to do it, but since I go to school here, I wanted to contribute to the wellness of the school. Or some shit like that. Anyway, I heard that all the gangs in town are having their thugs throw cherry bombs into the toilets here to blow them up."
"That's terrible. Why are they doing it?" Blackwell wondered aloud.
"Easy. So that people will have to leave school if only to go to the bathroom. Then the ABB can snatch the girls, and the E88 can snatch the guys. You know, because they are all dicks."
Blackwell considered that and replied, "Yes, I had heard that Kaiser loves to look pretty all the time. It certainly fits."
Sophia nodded and said, "As a hero, I have a suggestion. Get 40 port-a-potties for daily use."
Blackwell looked as if someone had just stolen her purse. "Jesus. How much is that going to cost? I don't know if the board will go for the school having to get port-a-potties for daily use."
"Why not? The school will be saving the price of workers constantly fixing the commodes all the time. Plus the cost of the crappers themselves. Plus the water savings should help. Not to mention there is a surplus of port-a-potties since all the business in town stink. You should be able to get them for a cheap price. I had a friend gather a list of companies for you to call. Let me know if you need to convince any of these assholes who rent them out to give you a really good price. I have practice at negotiating."
"You do? Okay. I'll get some calls made. I'll let you know what I find out and if I need your assistance."
Sophia was sent a note during her 6th class for a request to stay after school and talk with the principal. It didn't take long for Sophia to mentally psych herself up for that meeting. In fact, it took no time at all.
-oo00oo-
Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 3:52pm
With the school mostly empty, and all the kids gone, save for Sophia Hess, Principal Blackwell escorted Lester Holt (no relation) from ABC Port-A-Potty to a meeting room. Lester was a tall man who had worked around construction workers all his life and knew whatever the school administrator needed was going to pad his pocket where he could hopefully go on vacation.
Entering the meeting room, Lester was amazed to see the only other person there was a student. He looked at Principal Blackwell who went to sit next to the student. Shrugging it off, he sat across from them. It was time to begin some negotiations for his vacation.
"This is Sophia Hess. She is on the student council," Blackwell said, indicating the only other person in the room, hoping no one would ask why only one person from the student council was, even if she wasn't on the student council which Blackwell well knew.
"Good to meet you. Now, on the phone you said you needed 40 port-a-potties for an 8-month lease. Correct?"
"Yes," Principal Blackwell answered.
"Normal rates for a port-a-pot is $10 day plus mileage and fees to dump tanks. Figure about $15 a day times 40 stalls times 8 months."
Principal Blackwell's eyes bulged a moment before, unseen by Lester, Sophia kicked the Principal's ankle.
"No," Sophia said.
"Excuse me?" Lester replied.
"I said no. Your plastic crapper boxes are sitting around doing nothing. You haven't rented one of them in four years."
"I can see why you are on the student council," Lester said, trying to butter the young girl up and allow him to keep the high profit margin.
Little did he know she wasn't on the student council, as if she would ever participate with those losers. "Thanks," Sophia said with no other emotion save anger, which was a default setting for her. "But $15 a day per stall is too much. I think a dollar a day per stall is better."
"A dollar?! Christ! I can't make any money on that!"
"Sure you can. You own the crappers. They're not costing you anything now. Or making you any money."
"Fine. Let's say 40 crappers for $1 a day EACH, plus drainage of them on a daily basis for an additional $4 a day, EACH."
"No. I think 40 crappers can be drained for $10 flat rate a day."
"Jesus Christ, kid! I gotta dump those shit boxes at the crap-plant outside of town. And those assholes charge me enough as is. It's a flat rate of $2 each per day I dump them. I don't make that up. Look online and you'll see their prices."
"Fine," Sophia grit her teeth. "Don't take them there. You can dump them in the bay instead."
Lester shook his head and simply stated, "Can't. Against environmental protection agency agreements. They find me doing that, and I'll lose everything, and so will you."
Sophia had a contingency for that. "Fine. Then dump them down the construction shaft over on Blaine Ave. It's a non-used 30-meter deep shaft owned by Desario Construction, and they went out of business years ago. There's nothing there but a long deep shaft which is perfect for holding a lot of shit. It was built years ago for one of those endbringer shelters that never happened."
Lester shook his head again. "Can't. Against city code."
Sophia arched an eyebrow and said in a dangerous voice, "Can't? Or won't? Two different things. See, if I were to say I can't beat you fuckin' senseless that is a bit different than saying I won't beat you fuckin' senseless. Do you understand?"
Lester wore a shocked expression for a few seconds while processing what she said, unsure he heard it right.
Sophia then followed that up with, "Another way to look at it is: I won't hesitate to fucking kill assholes like you if you can't get this done. Now do we understand one another?"
Lester was nothing if not a pragmatic individual who wanted to get the hell out of there. "Yes. Price is $40 a day for 40 plastic crappers with the biohazard dumped down that old Desario shaft. This will not include any toilet paper; you provide that. And may I say, Principal Blackwell, that you are certainly doing a good job training the next leaders of tomorrow."
"Thanks!" Principal Blackwell beamed at the praise.
-oo00oo-
Emma sat on her bed and pulled out a composition notebook. There was nothing spectacular, nothing out of the ordinary, and although her parents had bought it for her when she was about to start 5th grade, it had never been used.
She opened the black cover and wrote in large blue letters: Property of Emma Barnes. Private Property. Do not read unless I let you. Just close the cover before you read personal information. Failure to do so will allow me to file a lawsuit against you for violating my personal space.
Threat given, she picked up a black pen and began chronicling her life as a cape.
Emma's Journal entry:
Sophia said I should keep a journal for posteriors or something.
So here it is. The big reason for doing geek work.
I am a cape.
Power 1: I can see odors. They show up as different colors.
Power 2: I can pee really hard. I mean, really, really hard. To the point I break toilets. I haven't gone at home tonight. Can't afford to. But I think I have an angle on the pee situation. Bladder control. All I have to do is never drink again. That should work… no, wait. Have to go to bathroom. Shit! Better go outside. Wish I was still on better terms with Taylor. I'd user hers.
-oo00oo-
Sophia sat on her bed and pulled out a composition notebook. The stitched notebook originally had a white cover, but was now covered in stickers, doodles, and had the title prominently displayed in the center of the cover which stated: PMS Journal. Under it in multi-color letters was: Fuck Off Already Or I'll Kick You In The Ass! No one ever told Sophia she didn't have a way with words. Well, at least not tell her that without being kicked in the ass.
On the inside cover page was written: Power Management Speculation. Sophia had started this notebook a year earlier as a way to think about how to use her power. As expected, most of the notebook was still unused. That was soon going to change as she had something to write about now.
Sophia's journal entry:
Friday, October 2nd, 2009, 11:52pm
Some weird shit is happening here in Brockton Bay.
Emma has 2 powers.
She can smell farts. Something to do with rainbows or some shit.
She can pee so fucking hard it breaks concrete.
Why her? How did she get the second one? She hadn't been assaulted by either gang in school that I knew. No blades to her face like last time. So how did she get 2nd power? And when? Gotta figure this out. Feels important. Even if her powers suck ass now, she might get a better one eventually.
How to fight with piss-power? Hah! Got it!
Get Emma to load up on water. Chug-chug-chug.
No costume. She goes out as a normal who gets a couple gang bangers to grab her.
Emma can say she will cooperate and see if gang bangers want to sample her.
Emma can hike up skirt, not have underwear on, get the two bangers to come close and then -
BANG! She opens a can of concentrated piss on the fuckers and blows their fucking heads (big or small, doesn't matter) off.
Hah! That would be great!
To do: see if I can check out video camera from work. Get Kid Win to do it for me. Tell Emma about piss-power possibility above. Maybe she'll do it.
Not sure if piss-power could stop a real fight. Sure, Emma stripping for someone in order to piss on them might stop people for the shock value, but once she shoots them with high-velocity piss, then that will be all over the PHO boards.
Shit. Fucking useless power.
Course, I wonder how long it would take her to "reload" instead of it being a one-shot weapon. Maybe I can get her an interview with Piggy with some water nearby and see what happens. Hah! Or that fuck, Armsy.
-oo00oo-
Author comments:
As mentioned previously, this is a parahuman comedy. And I had the suspicion after posting the first chapter that many who read it thought it was a stand-alone short story. Nope. There are at least another 15 chapters to come. Likely more.