Contagion 1.04

Another advantage to having Sophia's memories was that I now had Emma's schedule memorized. As such, I knew just how much time I had before Zoe Barnes came to pick her up. One shift and I was again wearing Sophia's face, dashing at what I estimated to be the peak of human speed.

Amazingly, Winslow had at one time been a shining example of the public education system. Located as it was at the intersection of several population centers, it was a mecca of knowledge and achievement. Of course, urban areas are always the first to fall apart when times get hard so Winslow's location had shifted almost overnight from an advantage to a mortal failing. Of course, once the Wards program started up and Arcadia was built as a haven, all of the affluent families flocked there and left Winslow to further decay.

What disgusts me about people is their tendency to pull rather than climb. What I mean by this is that, instead of bettering oneself, it seems that your average person would prefer to make other people's lives hell and cause them to fail. Misery loves company, as the old adage states, and that's easy to see in such circumstances. Mostly I believe it stems from a refusal to acknowledge personal inadequacies: working to be better requires first the recognition that one can in fact be better. Instead, harming others to ruin their opportunities makes the abuser feel that they are superior, since they haven't been broken.

For the first time, however, I was thankful that I had been a good friend. My grades had been stellar enough to justify applying to Arcadia, but Emma was never as book-smart as me. In order to remain with my best friend since childhood, I had opted to simply attend Winslow. After my mother died and Emma began torturing me, I had regretted that decision more than everything else save one thing: I had been the one talking to my mother when the SUV plowed into her. I heard her final screams of pain and knew, unequivocally, that I was responsible. If it hadn't been for my love of my father, I would have taken my own life long ago. But to help support him I had endured the bullying and hatred.

Now, though, I understood. People claim that everything happens for a reason. While I don't believe in some sort of cosmic plan, I do believe in...I suppose you could call it reverse providence. To simplify, I believe that we can take our circumstances and make something greater than the sum of our experiences. In my case, all of the pain and suffering I'd experienced gave me an intimate understanding of the darker parts of the human condition. Had I just gone to Arcadia, I might have led a happy life but would likely have never affected the world as a whole. Now, though? I had the power and determination to fix things. My pain was a price I'd gladly pay for the chance to fix the broken aspects of this world. Maybe nobody else would have to suffer as I had. It was a pipe dream, really, but that kind of hope kept me moving.

(BREAK)

Emma was easy to spot. Her crimson tresses spilled down her back, barely obscuring the impressive curvature of her body. She stood tall for someone her age, 5'7" – looming over most girls. Except me, of course. As Sophia, however, I felt somewhat short and plain. Hess had more curves than my normal body, but she seemed flat in comparison to the redhead. I strode soundlessly behind her and clapped my hand over her mouth and nose. "Quiet, Emma," Sophia's voice hissed. "We're in deep shit."

Emma nodded and I removed my hand. She turned to face me, eyes hard. "What's wrong? Taylor killed herself and implicated us or something?"

I blinked. "Hebert? No, I don't think so. Haven't heard anything like that. Look, walk with me." I nodded to a piece of broken fencing, where dealers would slip inside school grounds to ply their wares. "The walls have ears, after all." I kept my voice low, waiting until we were nearly to the fence. "I've got reason to believe someone figured out my little secret."

Her blue eyes went wide and the color drained from her already pale skin. "Oh god, how?"

"I don't know, but I got a disturbing message on my phone. I think they might go after you to get to me." We were in the shadows now. "Shh!" I grabbed her face again, gently pushing her into the shadows. I looked back and forth, our bodies pressed together, Sophia's darker skin acting as camouflage for Emma. This was the perfect position: even a direct observer would be hard-pressed to tell what was happening.

My hand melted and began flowing up into Emma's nasal cavity. She began to choke and cough, trying to protest, but I kept my grip tight over her mouth. I punched through the lining of her throat, surging into her spinal column and up to her brain. In her last moments of life, I shifted back into my true self, locking eyes with her. My expression was cold, not even delighting in her death like Sophia might have. This was vengeance, but it was also justice. More than that, it was duty. I pushed forward, pressing into and through Emma's body as it liquefied. I slumped against the wall, bracing myself for the surge of memories.

"Eyes, nose, lips... You can hide the ears with your hair, so let's start there." The words still haunted me at night. I'd survived, but only because of Sophia's intervention. I needed to be stronger, and the first point of order was to destroy everything that made me weak. Meek little Taylor was nothing but a burden on me, always wanting to be nice, to be submissive. She was going to drag me down; I couldn't just cut her loose or she'd keep pursuing me. I had to utterly break her.

I wasn't a fighter: I didn't have the build or demeanor for it. But I did have the drive to succeed and I was damn good-looking. A few more minor modeling gigs and I could eventually get a contract when I turned 18, get the hell out of this shithole and become successful. Then I wouldn't need to fight people to get my way. My money and sex appeal would become my weapons.

I can't believe Taylor tried to sue me and the school. Not only was she after me, but she was going to out Sophia. Well, we nipped that in the bud. It was easy enough to paint Taylor as schizophrenic, broken by her mother's death and convinced the world was out to get her. With Blackwell and staff backing us up – all it took for their cooperation was the paltry sum they got for housing a Ward – the PRT's director opted to shut down the case rather than risk one of her Wards. Especially a black former vigilante in Empire Eighty-Eight's stomping grounds? No way was she going to allow that to get out.

I shook my head and spat in disgust. Such a shallow, pathetic excuse for a person. That experience had been enough to completely change her? It had taken my mother's death and nearly two years of constant abuse from my former best friend to even begin to break me. I sidled back through the fence, wincing at the unfamiliar sensation of the ragged chain-link scraping against my chest. Note to self, be aware of Emma's D-cups. They get in the way. I made my way to the front of the school and waited for the blue Mercedes. Unslinging my backpack from my shoulder, I hopped inside. "Hey mom," I chirped to Zoe Barnes. God, it made me feel slimy to call her 'mom'.

It struck me as odd how much Emma stood out from her family. Alan was tall, broad and dark, black hair and tan skin. Zoe was blonde and petite, and Emma's little sister Anne was brunette and seemed to have a build similar to her mother. Emma, on the other hand, was already as tall as her mother and curved like an hourglass. It made me suspicious that one of the Barneses had been dipping their pen in another inkwell. "Hey hon," Zoe smiled. "So how was your day?"

"Okay, I guess," I replied with a little sigh. "Mr. G wasted our time today, though. He gave us another dumb lecture about parahuman achievements instead of cape origin theory like he was supposed to." In a stage whisper, I continued, "I'm starting to think he's not qualified to teach parahuman studies."

Zoe pursed her full pink lips. "Want me to schedule a parent-teacher conference?"

Oh, that was funny. I actually had to force myself to keep from laughing. While Sophia had never acted on it, it seemed she'd had a little crush on the Barnes matriarch. "Let's see if he shapes up tomorrow; it'll be Friday, after all. If not, then you can call him on it."

"Alright, sweetie. We can wait a day."

I pulled out a textbook and pretended to read, running my plans back and forth in my mind. There were no memories of Zoe or Anne being part of the schemes, so I'd need to keep them out of the line of fire.

(BREAK)

The most disconcerting thing I'd done so far was pretending to be Emma. I'd literally stepped into her life, my years of closeness with her allowing me to perfectly imitate her mannerisms. I bantered with Zoe and Anne, had a little snack, and watched TV while waiting for Alan to return home. It was like something out of the Twilight Zone and left me yet again with the psychosomatic feeling of a churning stomach.

What was worst was that, even for a few minutes, I'd thought about just staying like this. Emma was happy, wealthy, beautiful. She had a safe future and a plan. Taylor Hebert could have just shriveled up and disappeared and Emma Barnes could have lived a full life. It was tempting, so sorely tempting. But then I realized that I'd be living every day with Alan Barnes, the corrupt and evil man who'd sold out an innocent child, the girl who'd been a niece to him, and the man who'd been like a brother, solely to keep his daughter from being punished for her sadistic actions. No, I could not live with myself without exacting justice.

Alan finally got home before dinner, all smiles and happiness for his family. There wasn't even a twinge of guilt or self-loathing evident for his horrific treatment of the Heberts, of us. After we exchanged hugs and pleasantries, I slunk up to his side to whisper into his ear. "Dad, I need to talk to you. About things with, um, Sophia."

He locked eyes with me and gave a solemn nod. "Zoe, Anne honey, give us a second. Emma and I have to chat a little."

Zoe nodded and smiled. I was sure they'd spun her a long nonsense story about Emma needing her father's shoulder to cry on with her old friend going insane. I wanted to slap that vacant-eyed smile off her face. "Okay. Anne, sweetie, want to help me with the garlic bread?"

I followed Alan up the stairs to his office, away from prying ears. Once the door was shut and he was firmly seated, he locked eyes with me. "I take it this isn't just a pleasant update about your friend."

I tilted my head. "No, it's not. I was wondering something...call it soul-searching, maybe, but, why did you let Sophia and me get away with all of it? I mean, Taylor was like my sister, Danny was like your brother, and yet you just cut them loose. So, why? You knew what was going on, so why didn't you stop me before it got this bad?"

"Well," he stammered, apparently not having given thought to why he'd tacitly approved Emma's actions, "you deserve to be happy. You weren't in danger, so I didn't see a reason to–"

"Didn't see a reason to intervene, to protect your niece in all but name? Blood is thicker than water, and all that, but you can't be bothered to take care of your loved ones and teach them?" I was snarling now, feeling tendrils of essence curling within me. "Of course, since you shirk responsibility I can understand why you'd encourage your daughter to do the same."

Alan Barnes looking slack-jawed was a memory I'd savor for a long time. He blinked and tried to compose himself. "Look, Emma, I don't know what's brought this on, but if you're feeling upset about Taylor you can always–"

The white-hot rage within me had been replaced by the calm ice of hatred. I interlaced my fingers and propped up my feet on his desk, eyes still locked on his own. "I could what, apologize? Tell her I feel so bad about waging a terror campaign against her for two years? 'Oh well, too bad about losing your mom and ending up destitute. Wanna go grab a burger?' Do you give no thought to the consequences of your actions, or do you just trust that you can bullshit and manipulate the law to get you out of any trouble you find yourself in?"

This time I didn't permit a response. I shot out my hand and a thick tendril plastered his mouth shut. My body changed back to my original form. "Originally Emma was my prime target. Sophia was first, since she was the violent one who landed me in the hospital, but she was also a trial run since she lived in a bad neighborhood. Madison, she's barely more than a nuisance. I'll get around to her on my own time. But Emma? She was my Brutus, the true betrayer. Or so I thought. Y'see," I gestured casually with my other hand, my tone congenial as though we were having a friendly conversation, "Emma was a stupid child. Yes, was. She's dead now. I've been playing her role since before Zoe brought me home. But she's a kid. She did horrible things but I can't hold her fully responsible. She was traumatized and, while that doesn't outright excuse her actions, it makes them...I suppose I could say less evil."

I paused to snicker. "You, though? You're an adult, a father, fully aware of your responsibilities to your family. Yet you threw away one of your oldest friendships and utterly destroyed me and my father for no reason other than to keep your daughter from facing the consequences of her sadism." The tendril wrapped around the back of his head and started to squeeze. "So she became a means to an end. Oh, I still killed her. Because she deserved it. But now, she was my ticket to get to you. I told you this whole story so you can understand, so I can see the fear in your eyes, before you die. You're not going to get the chance to live with your actions, to miraculously reform. You're–"

And this time I was interrupted. Little Anne Barnes, whom I'd always suspected had been named in honor of my mother – yet another blazing example of Alan's betrayal – burst through the door. "No! Leave him alone!" With her scream of protest, panicked and indignant, I could hear Zoe's footsteps as she hurried to us.

"Fuck me," I sighed. I'd wanted to leave the mother and daughter alone, as they hadn't directly wronged me. Not only would they have reported a parahuman murderer, but Anne had seen my real face "Nothing for it now." I hurled Alan across the room, his bulk smashing into and almost through the opposite wall. The desk shattered when I pushed off of it. I made Anne's death quick, simply tearing her in half and devouring her body before she could suffer much. Memories tried to rush to the surface of my mind but I forced them down, barely losing any momentum as I rushed out the door and tackled Zoe. The tumble down the stairs broke her body and I jogged back up, bits of viscera absorbing into me.

Alan was just staggering to his feet when I returned. I was nearly as tall as he was, so with my strength it was no trouble to seize him by the neck and lift him against the wall. "It's funny how things work out," I said, my expression blank and my voice monotone. "If you'd just been a responsible father and watched over your daughter, steered her on the right path, I would never have triggered. If I hadn't triggered, your entire family wouldn't have died. People call it the butterfly effect. That has a nice ring to it."

I drove my fist through Alan's ribcage and let the tendrils writhe. Once I was done hollowing him out and began to consume his corpse, the blood splatter on the wall resembled the wings of a butterfly.

Shifting back to Sophia for her fingerprints, I casually rifled through the Barneses' things and took anything that looked valuable and untraceable. I'd be able to drain Alan's bank account tomorrow.

Satisfied, I donned the Shadow Stalker outfit and left through the front door, locking it with their keys which I promptly tossed into a nearby storm drain.

Leaping onto the roof, I began my run back home. If Dad had noticed I wasn't home, I'd have to come up with a story. Regardless, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Madison could wait for now; she was small fry. My next targets were the three capes leading the Merchants. Once they were gone, the real challenge would be taking down the Empire and Lung.

I had two advantages over them, however: first, they didn't know I existed. Second, each criminal I consumed would give me more information. By the time I confronted them directly, I'd be ready.