Security!
Chapter Fourteen: Consequences
"Uh oh."
I looked at Taylor. "What?"
"Some ABB guys just let someone into the school through a fire exit."
I was on my feet. "Which one?"
"Southwest corner, near the chem labs." She paused, looking worried. "If my bugs are reading this right, he's a big guy."
I grabbed my bag and the folding chair, pushed the doors open. "Big guy, small guy, still my job."
"What are you going to do?" she asked, as I stashed the chair and bag in a fire closet.
I started down the hall, striding purposefully. "Go and ask him politely to leave."
She hurried to keep up. "And if he doesn't want to go?"
"Then I'll stop asking and start telling. Where are you going?"
"With you. This is a big guy. You might need backup."
"Better if you hang back a bit," I cautioned her. "It might look a bit suss, a student helping out the security guard."
Her resolve was obvious. "I'm not going to let you get hurt."
"I can take care of myself."
What I didn't tell her was that I more or less had Contessa looking out for my interests until Friday. Or so I hoped.
"I'm still coming along."
She would come along anyway, even if I told her not to; I had figured that part out, anyway. "I don't suppose there's a chance you brought, uh it, to school?"
It didn't taker her long to figure out that I was referring to her costume. As I had already noted, bright kid. "No. Should I have?"
"Here? No. Once you move, and if you join? Yeah, probably."
"Good point. They're going upstairs."
"Crap. Which stairwell?"
"Southern one."
There were two stairwells in Winslow. We were nearest the northern one; we started heading that way.
"Aren't you going to call the police?"
"And tell them what? I'm not going to out you, not over this."
"Just tell them someone told you! You don't have to say who!" Her worry was palpable.
She had a point; police backup would be nice. I didn't know what they had planned, but whatever it was, I didn't like it already.
=/=
"But I can take them down!" insisted Eidolon. "I can end them!"
"Our policy is hands off," Alexandria reminded him.
"Hands off the Siberian and Shatterbird, maybe," retorted the cowled hero. "Because they're Cauldron capes, and because they might be able to take on the Endbringers. And Siberian might be able to face Scion. But the rest are fair game. And the Endbringer scenario may well be done with as well, if we're to believe Security."
"He's refused to tell Contessa anything about how to defeat Scion until Friday," pointed out Doctor Mother. "It may well be that the Nine are key to that."
"I don't believe so," mused Alexandria. "The first email he sent outlined weak points for both Jack Slash and the Siberian. If they are to be kept for a battle against Scion, why would he send such information first and foremost? The PRT is almost certain to use it against them just as soon as it is able."
"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Eidolon insisted. "If I take down Jack Slash, they fragment. Killing any one of the Nine will dramatically reduce the danger from the group, but killing Jack Slash would be a real game-changer. And I won't need to stop there. Mannequin, Burnscar, Bonesaw, Hatchet Face … I believe I should even be able to take out Crawler. All it requires is finding an attack that he hasn't yet become immune to."
Alexandria shook her head. "You forget Jack Slash's power, the one the email indicates. He's able to anticipate capes. If you come in to attack, he will be protected, and so will Bonesaw, and potentially others."
"Not if I can locate Manton and take him down," Eidolon persisted. "Then there's nothing stopping me from eliminating Slash and the others."
"Except that we're supposed to leave Manton alive," Alexandria reminded him patiently. "Knocking him out and then failing to take him into custody? That would cause some questions to be asked."
"So what would you have me do?" growled Eidolon. "I just got my power back in full, and now you're saying I can't even take down the Slaughterhouse Nine."
"Wait," advised Alexandria. "Wait till Friday. If Security's plan to take down Scion doesn't involve the Nine, then you've got free rein on them."
"And until then?"
"Locate the Nine. Tail them. See what they're doing. Save people from harm if you can, of course, but don't reveal yourself to them."
"Until Friday."
"Until Friday."
=/=
As we climbed the stairs, I pulled out my phone, and dialled.
"You have dialled nine-one-one, what is your emergency?"
I tried to control my breathing. "I need the police."
"Sir, what is your location?"
"My name is Michael Allen. I'm the security guard at Winslow High School. I've just been given information that there has been an unauthorised entry into the school, including one adult male. This is probably gang related."
I had to stop speaking so I could catch my breath.
"Sir, are you in danger at the moment?"
"I'm going to confront the guy, you tell me."
"Sir, do you have a description of this man?"
"Not yet. I just know he's big, and that ABB recruits let him into the school."
"Have you even seen this supposed intruder, sir?"
I rolled my eyes. Taylor pointed at the floor above. Great. Third floor.
"No, I have not. I just know he's here."
"Sir, how do you know about this person if you haven't seen him?"
"Because I just got told about him. Now can you please send someone to Winslow?"
"Sir, we have it on file that this number has been used once before to prank call for police when there was no emergency."
I stifled the urge to swear. Was it just me, or was this person actively looking for reasons not to send someone to Winslow?
"Yes, that was me. I made that call. It was not intended to be a prank. But I am on duty, and I am about to confront an intruder. An adult man roaming the corridors of a school full of teenage girls. I don't know about you, but to me that counts as an emergency. Now please, send someone over."
=/=
I closed the phone and put it away.
Taylor looked at me. "Are they sending someone?"
I shrugged, and tried to catch my breath. "Fucked if I know. Where's he at?"
She pointed. "That way."
I went up the last few steps; Taylor followed.
"Where the hell are you going?"
She looked stubborn. "You'll need backup."
I sighed. "Okay, but stay out of sight. No matter what happens – stay out of sight."
"But I –"
"What did I tell you about how Masters operate? Never let the other side see you. So keep your head down. Let your bugs do the looking."
The sense of what I was saying seemed to sink in. "Okay. I can do that."
"Good." Even if I got smacked around a bit here, at least she wouldn't get hurt.
Hopefully.
=/=
Joey Lee was bored. Bored with this school, bored with the fawning attitudes of the teenage recruits, bored with this whole job. The ABB had been warned away from fighting in Winslow? Some know-nothing security guard had marked the place out as his personal turf? Well, for all Joey cared, he could have it.
It wasn't as if he was going to be expanding his territory, and it actually made it easier to recruit if the sprouts weren't gonna get their heads kicked in by the Empire skinheads just for wearing the colours.
But Joey's boss - who also happened to be the father of the kid that the security guy had dumped on his ass - had decided that a lesson needed to be taught. So Joey was chosen for the job. Lung had been taken down, it was said, by some teenager who could control bugs; the ABB needed a win, to show that it wasn't on the back foot just yet, and Joey had been chosen to provide that win.
Not that anyone would equate the beating of some fat old security guard to the defeat of Lung, in Joey's opinion, but he wasn't being paid to supply said opinion. He was there to apply fist to face, and boot to ribs. He was there, in fact, to convey the disapproval of the ABB to one Michael Allen, security guard.
=/=
As we headed in the direction indicated by Taylor's bugs, she frowned. "That's funny."
"What?" I asked. In situations like this, such a phrase was always an attention-getter.
"Half of them are going downstairs again. Spreading out."
"'Them' being the ABB kids?"
"Yeah. They're moving around, like they're looking for something."
"So they're not guarding the stairwell to keep people from coming up?"
She shook her head. "No. Like I said, it almost seems like they're looking for something."
I got it then. "Not something. Someone. Me. I challenged them yesterday. Told them this was my turf."
"But they trashed your car!"
I nodded. "That was just to get my attention. Or maybe it was some of them, while the others are pulling this crap."
"What crap is this?" she wanted to know.
"My guess? Bringing in muscle to show the interfering security guard whose turf it really is."
"So he's here to fight you?"
I shrugged. "Best guess? He's here to stomp my ribs. Make an example out of me."
"What are you going to do?"
"Best case? Show them I'm not a pushover. One thing you never do with bullies is back down, because then they step up and repeat. I back down now, they keep this shit up, I'll end up spending the whole day in the lunch room."
"And worst case?"
"I'll try not to let it become a worst case." Stabbed, stomped into the floor, hospitalised. None of that would be good.
I doubted they wanted to murder me; that would send too strong a message. But I had a marked aversion to being made into a punching bag either.
She frowned. "That's funny. They have spray cans, but they haven't sprayed anything yet."
"Hmm. Maybe they want to do some graffiti to mark their turf?" I paused. "Where are they now?"
She pointed at a corner up ahead. "Around that corner, down past the cross-corridor, around to the left. Don't look, there's three down near the corner, looking this way." She paused. "Are you really going to go down there, even though you know that's what they want?"
I went over the rough map of the school I held in my head. "Not exactly." I backtracked down the corridor a little way, and used my passkey to open an empty classroom. She followed me, looking curious.
My passkey opened the door on the other side of the classroom, leaving us in a side corridor. Half a dozen paces down the corridor, there was a fire closet. Opening it, I examined the large extinguisher that resided there.
It had a blue band around it; just what I wanted.
"Now stay here," I told Taylor, very quietly. I pulled the pin from the fire extinguisher, making it ready for use. Tucking it under my arm, I made sure my left hand was free.
Moving fast now – I had regained my breath somewhat – I strode down the corridor and around the corner.
Three ABB recruits were lounging there, looking down the corridor to where they expected me to appear. They were taken somewhat unaware by my sudden appearance. All three straightened up and took a step forward.
I gave them no chance to take action; I sprayed them with the pepper spray canister I held in my left hand. All three went down, coughing and choking.
Passing them by, I tucked the pepper spray back into its pouch. I rounded the last corner to see a large and brawny man, tossing a can of spray paint up and down in his hand. Half a dozen ABB recruits, the oldest and most senior in the school's nascent organisation, stood around him in positions of deference.
=/=
It was a very simple plan.
Joey would get let into the school by selected members of the school's ABB contingent, during the lunch hour. They would guide him up to the third floor, which was least used during that time. Joey had spray-cans in red and green, and he would prepare to use them to deface the school, in the time-honoured fashion.
The ABB students would then go looking for Allen, and tell him that there was someone up on the third floor. He would come looking. Joey's lookouts would warn him of Allen's approach, and he would begin his work of applying graffiti.
Allen would approach, tell him he had to leave, and Joey would pick a fight. He had seen pictures of the guy; over forty, overweight, over the hill. He didn't move like a fighter, didn't swagger like a badass. He moved like a man with too much weight to carry, and didn't care who knew it. Joey figured that one good hit, maybe two, would put him right where Joey wanted him.
After that, the plan devolved to 'hit him till he falls down' with elements of 'kick him in the ribs till he can't get up'. No need for knives or guns; just plain, simple brutality. It usually worked for Joey.
As an extra detail, he was thinking, he would then use the spray cans to emblazon Allen himself with the ABB logo, all over his nice clean shirt. Maybe his face too. So whoever found Allen knew without a doubt that the ABB did whatever the fuck it felt like.
And then he heard what sounded like coughing and choking around the corner. No-one had called out that Allen was coming, but whatever they were doing, there was something going on ...
Allen stepped around the corner. And in his hands was a fire extinguisher.
It had been a very simple plan.
Joey was still trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong when the foam hit him.
=/=
"Looking for me?" I sang out as I swung the fire extinguisher into position. They were still looking around when I squeezed the handle and hit them with a high-pressure burst of white foam.
If it had been containment foam, it would have been a perfect ambush. But no, it was simple fire extinguisher foam. Which still served to blind them and make the floor slippery.
I let the extinguisher fall to hang from my right hand, retrieved my stun gun, and went straight in toward the big guy. He looked kind of Chinese, I guessed. But I wasn't going to stop and chat with him about his cultural heritage; he was big. A little taller than me, wider across the shoulders. The sort of guy you don't want to get into a fist-fight with.
So I closed with him while he was still trying to claw the extinguisher foam out of his eyes, and jabbed him with the stun gun.
This was about the point where my hastily-contrived plan went awry. Foam based fire extinguishers are noted to be not a good idea to use on electrical fires. What this means, apparently, is that foam is a conductor of electricity, being water based. I hadn't actually made that connection. So when I jabbed him – in the middle of a glob of foam, as I had done a bang-up job of covering him with the stuff – it crackled but he didn't go down. Apparently, foam is a better conductor than human skin.
That, or he was one tough son of a bitch.
=/=
Joey felt the contact and the mild electrical shock, but no more than that. He wasn't even sure what had happened until he got the foam clear of his eyes, and saw the guard standing there with a stun gun in his hand, looking somewhat taken aback.
He drew back his fist and let fly; the security guard stepped back hastily, and the badly-aimed punch missed by a whisker, but then the guy stepped in a glob of the foam. Allen's foot slipped and he went down on his ass, losing his grip on the fire extinguisher as he went; it clattered off to one side.
Joey grinned. Part one of the job was already done.
He stepped in, drew back his leg, and delivered a powerful kick to the prone security guard's ribcage.
=/=
Hitting the floor knocked some of the wind out of me, and the plus-sized boot that slammed into my ribs did some more of the same. Fortunately, he hit the undamaged side of the stab vest, otherwise his massive kick may have driven some of the sharper pieces of the fractured plates into my body.
As it was, the vest took a good deal of the impact, spreading it over the side of my body. Unfortunately, there was still a good deal of impact to go around, leaving me feeling as though I had been hit by a truck.
I swung my arm frantically toward his leg, trying to see if I could get skin contact with the stun gun. He saw me coming, did his best to stamp on my hand; I pulled it back hastily.
He kicked me again; I couldn't do much about that, but at least it wasn't anywhere near as painful as being hit by Lung. I rode out the impact, rolling with it, trying to get to the fire extinguisher.
One of the ABB kids, wiping his eyes free, saw me, and picked it up.
It was beginning to look bad. One on one was turning to seven on one; and even though any of those six was a fairly uneven match for me when I was on my feet, numbers counted when you couldn't get up.
The big guy was coming after me again, winding up for another championship kick. And then he stopped, coughing and choking.
I couldn't believe my luck; I scrambled to my feet. The kid with the fire extinguisher swung it at my head; I deflected most of the impact with my arm, but it still hit me hard enough to make my ears ring. But I got up anyway. I moved toward the kid; he stepped back, holding the extinguisher out of my reach.
I didn't give a shit any more; I swapped the stun gun to my other hand, pulled out the pepper spray, sprayed the big guy, and then sprayed the kid for good measure. This pretty well used up that canister, but it was for a good cause.
Then I pulled out my cuffs and applied them to the big guy. I was making sure that he and the kids I'd sprayed were all right, and that the other kids weren't going anywhere, when the police finally showed up.
After that, it was all over bar the shouting.
=/=
"So did you get the security guy's statement?"
"Sorry, sergeant. He's taken a hit to the head, and they took him to the infirmary."
The sergeant grimaced. Hit to the head equalled head trauma. No statement taken under those circumstances would be seen as valid.
"You did speak to him, though." It wasn't a question.
"Yes, sergeant. He said he'll come into the station and give his statement just as soon as he's able."
The sergeant looked through the mesh-reinforced plexiglass at the prisoner in the back of the car. "Well, at least we've got enough to hold Mr Lee on until he fronts up, haven't we, Mr Lee?"
Joey Lee glared back at him, at least as much as he was able. His eyes were still reddened and swollen, despite the water that had been used to flush them out.
"You need to arrest that damn security guard," he growled. "He's a menace."
"Oh right, we'll do that, sir," the sergeant grinned. "Just as soon as we vote your boss in as mayor."
Joey Lee continued to glare. It didn't help much.
=/=
"You used pepper spray on children!" shouted Principal Blackwell. Again.
I sat in the infirmary, holding the cold compress to the throbbing lump on my head. Her voice did absolutely nothing to mitigate the jabbing spikes of pain through my skull, and in fact seemed to markedly increase them.
"Yes, Ms Blackwell, I did," I replied wearily. "They were trying to get me beaten up. It seemed the thing to do."
"Do you have any evidence of this?" she asked me.
"Yes," I told her flatly. "I know it. This is not a court of law. I have experience as a security guard. This happened. I was there. You were not. Why is it that you cannot take my word for it?"
"Because their parents are going to be threatening to sue the school the moment they hear that they have been subjected to such a barbaric –"
" – nonlethal takedown method," I interrupted. "No lasting harmful effects. Painful as hell, yes, temporary blindness and difficulty in breathing, I will grant you. But I checked on all of them, and they were all doing well by the time the police arrived and took him away."
"And that's another thing," Blackwell rounded on me. "Calling the police before you even saw this man? What were you thinking? He could have been a perfectly innocuous visitor –"
" – who went straight to the third floor and waited for me with cans of spray paint, and members of the ABB," I interrupted, again. "Yeah, that's the sign of good faith, right there."
"But how did you know where he was going to be? What he was planning to do?" she demanded. "You couldn't. It's not possible. You went up there planning to attack him, no matter who he was."
I took a deep breath. That hurt my bruised ribs, but not as badly as it might have. It hurt less than my head, anyway. "Ms Blackwell," I told her. "You're the principal of this school. I have no doubt that you know more about the running of this place than I ever will. You have your finger on the pulse, here. You know what's going on. Am I wrong?"
She paused, wrong-footed. "Uh ... no, you're not wrong," she replied. I smiled internally; it would have been almost constitutionally impossible for her to answer in any other way.
"Exactly," I agreed. "I would no more try to tell you how to run a school than you would try to tell me how to be a security guard, am I right?"
My tone was cheery, carrying her along. She hesitated, seeing the trap, but unable to avoid it. "... right," she assented.
"Well then," I went on, in tones of purest reason, "doesn't it stand to reason that I would have my own finger on the pulse? That I would be able to figure out things in my line, which don't make any sense to someone else, just like you know things in your line which I wouldn't be able to make head nor tail of?"
She hesitated again. "Uh ... right?"
I nodded firmly. "Exactly," I said once more. "I'm glad we agree."
She blinked, not quite sure where the conversation had gone wrong. "Uh ... how did you know that the man had entered the school?"
"One of your students told me, as a matter of fact."
"Who was it?"
I shrugged. "How would I know? You've got hundreds of the little buggers running around here. You probably know them all by first and last name, parents' occupation and star sign. I wouldn't have a hope in hell of managing that."
She looked pleased at the praise; I hoped I wasn't slathering it on too thickly. "Well, I suppose ..." she conceded, but then she rallied again. "And what happened to the recorders?"
I looked at her innocently. "Recorders?"
She jabbed a finger at my belt. "Your infamous digital recorders. Why did they not record this particular altercation?"
I put on my best sheepish expression. "Well, this may be hard to believe, but I was relaxing, having lunch, when I got the word. And I clean forgot to turn on the recorders till it was all over."
She shook her head, her expression stern. "You're right. It is hard to believe. You have been so efficient, these last few days, that such an oversight flies in the face of all your previous actions. You chose to leave them off. For what reason, I can not yet fathom. But you also captured a dangerous man, one with several warrants to his name, on school property, for which I suppose we owe you a certain leeway."
I stayed silent, not wishing to derail this train of thought.
"But," she reiterated. "You did, after all, use pepper spray on four children."
Maybe staying silent wasn't the best idea. "One of whom was doing his best to brain me with a fire extinguisher. After the big guy tried to kick my ribs in."
The school nurse had examined the lump on my head, checked out my pupil response, and had declared that I showed no signs of concussion, but had given me a cold compress for my head.
I had removed my stab vest so that she could prod my ribs. She decided that none were broken, or even fractured. There was a certain amount of bruising, but nothing serious. The vest, she told me, had saved me from a great deal of trouble, there.
"None the less," Blackwell informed me, "we will be holding a review of your actions. If any of them are found to be less than satisfactory, we may well be suspending your employment here, while we petition the school governors for a suitable replacement."
I lifted the cold compress to check out the lump on my head. It wasn't throbbing quite so much any more, which meant that the nagging pain in my head was due mainly to Principal Blackwell.
"Sure. That's your right and your privilege."
=/=
I wanted to add more, wanted to ask whether she had considered the repercussions of replacing me for standing against the bullying culture that the school had so far fostered, for doing my job, for defending myself. If she had considered how the next guard in line would see his job description; would he try to do the job, or just ignore it all in the name of not getting fired?
But I said nothing. If she hadn't thought about this, it wasn't my place to fill her in. She would find out, sooner or later, the easy way or the hard way. Not my problem.
In fact, my problems at Winslow were rapidly coming to an end. I cared little about how Emma and company went after Taylor left. I had set that in motion; whether they continued with their punishment or were pardoned shortly after my departure, was out of my control.
The truth was, as much as I would have liked to clean up Winslow altogether, once Taylor was gone, my main job there was essentially done. I would stay on there if they didn't choose to boot me out, and I would do the work, but I had other things to worry about.
Of course, after Friday, I had no idea what was going to happen.
Oh, I had a basic idea. Some things were currently ongoing that my personal flock of butterflies would not have overturned. But many things, in and around Brockton Bay, were definitely going to be different. So after Friday, much of what was going to happen was new to me.
Hopefully, it would turn out better than the way it had gone in canon.
=/=
Eventually, Blackwell left me alone in the infirmary; she had the never-ending job of being school principal, after all. The nurse checked on the lump, checked my pupils again, and pronounced me well enough to leave.
"Thanks," I told her, buckling on my work belt once more. "I appreciate it."
"You really should take some painkillers," she warned me. "Between your ribs and your head ..."
I shook my head, very gingerly. "Nah. I prefer to stay away from that stuff until I really, really need it."
"And you don't need it now?" she queried.
"As the saying goes, it only hurts when I laugh."
She nodded. "Right. Well, be careful. And get plenty of bed rest. There's no concussion that I can detect, but you still took a fairly hard knock there."
"No worries," I told her. "And thanks."
=/=
I exited the infirmary, only to come face to face with none other than Gladys Knott.
"Hello, Mrs Knott," I greeted her formally.
She glanced around. "Michael!" she exclaimed in an undertone. "I heard you were hurt!"
"It's all good," I explained to her. "Minor bruising around the ribs, and a ding to the scone."
"A what to the what?" she asked blankly.
"A hit to the head," I hurriedly explained. "Not bad, though. He didn't get a chance to swing hard enough to hurt. Didn't even split the skin."
Her fingers explored my scalp until they found the lump that remained from the fight.
"Does that hurt?" she asked, her fingertips feather-light on the bump.
"A bit," I admitted. "But it's getting better all the time."
"No double vision, blurriness?"
I had to grin. "Nope and nope. The nurse already checked out my pupils. My brain cells are apparently all intact."
"Except for the part where you went upstairs and confronted a thug whose entire reason to be here was to beat you to a pulp," she pointed out scathingly.
I shrugged carefully. Very carefully. "Well, he didn't."
"But you could have gotten hurt."
My tone was as soothing as I could make it. "I'm fine."
She glanced around again, quickly, then pulled me close and kissed me. I was surprised, but not so surprised that I didn't kiss her back.
We disengaged, quickly, in case someone came along. With the way my luck had been going, someone would have walked around the corner just then. No-one did, which I considered to be a minor miracle.
"Don't do that again," she whispered fiercely.
"Yes, ma'am," I replied, without an ounce of sarcasm. Gladys Knott in a temper was not someone I wanted to mess with.
"Saturday," she murmured, and walked off.
I paused to consider that. In that single word, she had packed several layers of communication. Firstly, she had let me know that I was still in her good books insofar as seeing her on Saturday went. Secondly, she had subtly reminded me that we had the prospective date on Saturday, on the off-chance that I had forgotten. Thirdly, she was telling me that she was looking forward to seeing me on Saturday.
I watched her go, then went back to where I had stashed the folding chair and bag in the fire closet. They were still there; I carried them back to the small security office, then I went about my rounds.
And if I walked a little more slowly than before, and took a few more rests, then no-one seemed to notice or comment.
=/=
At the end of the school day, I collected the girls' phones from Principal Blackwell's office, and was waiting when the last bell went.
Emma, Madison and Julia trooped out of the classroom, this time under Mr Quinlan's bleary eye, and faced me. Solemnly, I handed each phone back, then tilted my head, carefully. "Let's get you outside then," I told them. "Have a good one, Mr Quinlan."
He nodded to me, a little less warily than when I had encountered him in the lunch room on Monday. "You too, Allen," he replied.
The girls followed me to their lockers, where they put away what books they had been using, and then out to the front steps. Emma walked alongside me, looking up at me with curiosity.
"What happened to you?" she asked.
"What do you mean?" I enquired.
"I mean, you're moving a little more carefully now. Your shirt's got a bit of dirt on it. And that looks like a nasty lump on your head." She paused, as though she couldn't parse the information. "Did you get into a fight? When the police came, what was that about?"
I decided to answer a question with another question. "How long did they search the room for my recorder?"
She grinned, glancing back at Madison and Julia. "The whole period."
"Really wanted to find it, huh?"
Julia's voice was sullen. "That was a mean trick."
I turned to look at her. "Now you're getting it. All the mean tricks you ever pulled in your life? I can top them."
Looking back at Emma, I nodded. "Yes, I got into a fight. A man came to the school. He wanted to beat me up. The police took him away."
"Did you kick his ass?"
"Depends on your definition. I hit him with pepper spray and handcuffed him while he was still trying to claw his own eyeballs out."
"Oh." Emma went quiet, apparently trying to visualise this.
"By the way you're moving," Julia put in spitefully, "he kicked your ass. You just used a dirty trick to win."
My tone was mild. "Why yes, I did. And I'll do it again. Every time. Because I might be a bit sore tonight, but he'll be in jail tonight. And as far as I'm concerned, a win's a win."
We were out on the steps by then, the other students streaming past and down the steps. Moving off to the side a little, we waited for the main rush to abate, and for their parents to come and collect them.
Julia's father arrived first; I nodded to him as I motioned for her to go with him. He nodded back, and they both left. She flashed me the finger as she went. I paid no attention.
Madison's mother was next; she greeted me quietly.
"Mr Allen. Has Madison been any trouble?"
"Not that I know of," I replied gravely.
"That's very good. Come along, Madison."
They both headed off down the steps, and then I saw the unmistakeable figure of Alan Barnes getting out of his car. He trod up the steps toward me.
"Mr Allen."
"Mr Barnes."
"Emma been good?"
"Far as I know."
"Good. Come on, Emma girl."
Just before she left, Emma turned to me. "I hope you feel better tomorrow."
I watched her walk away down the steps, raising an eyebrow. She hadn't even sounded sarcastic.
"Huh."
I turned at the voice; Taylor stood behind me, her expression quizzical.
"Was it just me, or did Emma actually say something nice to you?"
"Maybe she's just trying to get in good with the person she sees as being strongest right now." I thought for a moment. "Or maybe she even meant it. Or both. Who knows?"
Her tone was dismissive. "Not me. And I don't much care."
I decided to change the subject. "I thought you'd already gone."
"Nah. Wanted to see how you were going before I went. Knew you'd be here."
"We clear?"
She didn't even need to look around. "Sure. No-one in earshot."
"Good. Thanks for the helping hand in finding that guy."
"Not a problem. You okay? He kicked you pretty good there."
"Oh christ, you didn't look, did you?"
She snorted. "What do you take me for? No, but my bugs are pretty good at surveillance now."
I nodded. "Took a couple of good hits, but the stab vest helped."
"Still, falling over wasn't in your game plan, was it?"
"Not hardly. I'm just lucky he inhaled a bit of foam or something. Gave me the time to get up."
"Foam, right." She was grinning.
I frowned. "What do you mean?"
"What do you think he inhaled?" A fly buzzed past my face. Taylor was looking very smug indeed. Even with the headache, it didn't take much effort to add two and two.
"Ah. Of course." My only surprise was in the fact that I hadn't already figured it out for myself. "Thanks. I mean it. You saved my ass, right there."
Her grin widened. "I'm a superhero. It's sort of my job, right?"
"It is. Now, are you good for Thursday?"
She nodded seriously. "I just hope it'll turn out like you say it will."
"So do I, Taylor. So do I."
"See ya, security guard."
"See ya, superhero."
We bumped fists; she headed off down the steps to catch the bus.
I sighed and went back inside. Two more hours to go. Ugh.
=/=
"Director Piggot, I have an incoming call from 'Security'. Shall I put him through?"
Emily Piggot didn't hesitate. "Yes."
There was a moment of dead air, then the familiar voice came on the line. "Hello?"
"Security?"
"That's me. How are you, Director?"
"I've been better. Working out how to cover the Alcott girl. Any suggestions?"
"I've got information that some of Calvert's men might be compromised. Better to keep his entire unit away from the whole thing."
Piggot covered her eyes. "Christ. That's all I need. Okay, I can move shifts around. Anything else?"
"Yeah. I need you to have maybe eight containment foam sprayers ready for immediate action on Thursday. Them and the best men you've got for them."
"Containment foam. Eight sprayers."
"If you can, sure. And one more thing."
She sighed. "It's always one more thing. What do you need now?"
"Firing range target cards. Four inches square. Do you have those in stock?"
The Director blinked. That one was out of left field. "Uh, yes?"
"Good. Arrange for each of the foam sprayers to have one fixed on top before they deploy. Make it so the operator has a good clear view of the card."
"May I ask why?"
"What, and ruin the surprise? No, trust me, it will all become abundantly clear on the day."
Director Piggot gritted her teeth. "If you're playing games ..."
"Not in the slightest, I assure you. But if the wrong people hear the full plan ... you know how this sort of thing goes."
"Well, you haven't steered us wrong yet. So we'll do this. But I'll want to know why, after."
"Trust me, you'll know. Have a good day, Director."
"And you, Security."
The phone went dead, and she hung up.
Emily Piggot sat for a while, thinking. Then she picked up the phone again.
"Put me through to the armoury."
=/=
The bus ride home from Winslow was interminable. My bruises jolted inside the stab vest with every bump the vehicle hit, and all I could think of was getting there. It didn't help that I didn't have a window seat, and thus did not have the side of the bus to lean on.
I have an old injury to a hamstring that plays up when I'm tired and hurting; I was both this afternoon, and so I was limping when I finally entered the courtyard. No-one accosted me as I went up the stairs, step by painful step. There wasn't even anyone waiting inside the flat.
I closed the door behind me, and thought of Gladys, and how much I would have liked to see her face at that moment. Just to hold me and tell me I could rest.
But she wasn't there, and so I had to make do on my own.
Slowly I took it all off; the work belt, the uniform shirt, the stab vest. There were indeed some lovely bruises on my ribs where the big Chinese guy had kicked me.
Oh crap, I realised. I meant to go by way of the police station before I came home. They're waiting on my statement.
For a moment, I considered going out again, but I really couldn't face it. So instead, I took a shower.
The hot water did me the world of good; it even made the bruises feel a little better, or maybe it made the rest of me feel a little less like I'd been trodden into the pavement.
=/=
"So how was your day at school, kiddo?"
Taylor paused. "I … learned a lot today, Dad."
Danny looked around at her tone of voice. She looked thoughtful, bemused even.
"I'm presuming you don't just mean schoolwork."
She shook her head. "No. I don't just mean schoolwork. I mean about Emma and Sophia and Madison, and why they were bullying me for so long. I finally learned what it was all about. And I learned some other stuff too."
She paused; Danny waited, his expression encouraging. Ever since Taylor had opened up to him on the subject of her powers, and wanting to be a superhero, they had begun to reform the bond of father and daughter that had been severely strained, ever since Anne-Rose had died.
Whatever Taylor wanted to tell him now, he would listen to her.
"All right," she said at last. "I'll tell you, but to make it really make sense, I gotta tell you something that might get Mike in trouble if you tell anyone you know about it. So you can't tell anyone, okay?"
"Okay," he replied promptly.
"I was talking to Mike at lunchtime today," she began, "and he sorta-kinda accidentally on purpose let it slip that Sophia Hess is a cape. She's in the Wards. The one they call Shadow Stalker …"
As she talked on, Danny's eyes grew wide. He felt anger at what had been going on, and why, but also relief that it was over.
After she told him of Mike's revelations about Emma and her cronies, she filled him in on the adventure of the intruder into the school, and Mike's fight with him, and her own part in that.
"Mike's fine," she hastened to add. "He's got a few bruises, but he's doing all right. The other guy got arrested."
"Well, I'm glad to hear of it," he told her. Then he looked her in the eye. "So about this stuff with Emma. How do you feel about that, knowing what it was all about?"
"It's weird," she mused. "I'm still pissed at her for what she did, and I always will be, but the reason behind it ... it puts it in a whole new light ..."
They talked long into the evening.
=/=
After the shower, I put a microwave meal on to heat – oh, how the mighty have fallen, from Gladys' cooking to this – and started up the laptop.
The first thing that popped up was an email message, with no name in the Sender field.
Saw police report. Are you okay?
I typed a quick response.
Sore, but alive. Thanks.
A response came through a few moments later.
Good to hear.
I mused over that for a couple of minutes, and then the microwave dinged. Getting up, I collected the meal, and sat down again. With it at my elbow, I logged on to the Parahumans Online boards.
=/=
Welcome to the Parahumans Online message boards.
You are currently logged in, mack0813.
You are viewing:
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You have (1) new message from AllSeeingEye.
You have no infractions and no warnings.
=/=
I checked out the post from Tattletale first. Hopefully, it wouldn't be another attempt to troll me.
After I read it, I wished it had been.
=/=
AllSeeingEye *New Message*: Boss has me looking into u sry. Plz keep head down.
=/=
Crap, I thought. I'm on Coil's radar.
That was not the most pleasant of thoughts.
Hopefully, Contessa's bullshit powers beat out Coil's bullshit powers. At least until Friday.
I took a deep breath, and sent a reply.
=/=
mack0813: Stall till Thursday PM?
AllSeeingEye: I can try.
=/=
That would have to be good enough for me. There was nothing else that I could do about it at the moment. And Sveta was waiting on me. I couldn't let her down.
=/=
mack0813: Hey, where's my best girl?
GstringGirl: Mack, you're here!
mack0813: Said I would be, didn't I? (hugz)
GstringGirl: You did. And you're here. (hugs)
mack0813: It's good to see you again, Svetlana. So to speak.
GstringGirl: You too, Mack. You too.
mack0813: So, do you remember where we were up to? Or did you want to tell me how your day went?
GstringGirl: My day was boring. Can we just play the game?
mack0813: We can most definitely do that.
GstringGirl: Oh – how was your day?
mack0813: eh, nothing much happened. Work, sleep, eat, repeat as necessary.
GstringGirl: (smiles)
mack0813: So do you remember where we were in the game?
GstringGirl: Sort of. You'd just finished explaining about magic, and about the cute little dragons, and now Svetlana wants one.
mack0813: Svetlana as you, or Svetlana as the slave girl?
GstringGirl: Yes.
mack0813: hehehe good point
GstringGirl: So, what happenssss? (bounces in seat)
mack0813: well, you see, when last we left our valiant heroes ... whoops, sorry, wrong introduction. Our winsome slave maiden ...
GstringGirl: That's me!
mack0813: That, as you say, is you. Well, let me see, where were we?
GstringGirl: in the port city with all the strange people and the toothy seagulls and the cute little dragons.
mack0813: Right, right. Well, the port city, you eventually figure out, is called Kowsom. But you don't stay there long.
GstringGirl: Aww, i wanted to meet a dragon
mack0813: You spend one night in a dingy little hovel that apparently calls itself a tavern or an inn or something of the sort. The beds are narrow, the mattresses apparently stuffed with horsehair and rocks, and you have the feeling that you're sharing the bed with something.
GstringGirl: Not Janji, I hope.
mack0813: No, no, Janji is still feeling the effects of the voyage. In fact, he only had one helping at supper that night. And this is a man for whom a four-course meal barely counts as a light lunch. No, what you're sharing the bed with is more like ... bugs.
GstringGirl: ew ew ew bedbugs? Ive got bedbugs?
mack0813: Not just you. As it is, you don't seem that attractive to them, and you only get a few little nips. Everyone else seems to be scratching like mad when you see them the next morning.
GstringGirl: Even Janji?
mack0813: Especially Janji. It must be all the rich food they indulge in, while giving you only the bland stuff and the scraps.
GstringGirl: wow haha. thats awesome. so theyre all scratching like crazy ...
mack0813: ... while you're all like 'bugs? What bugs?'
GstringGirl: hahaha i love it serves them right
mack0813: So anyway, in the morning, you have a breakfast of stew. Janji has a fairly large helping, but you're not so sure about it, because you found some bones in yours, and they seem a little small to be rabbit. About the right size for a rat, you'd estimate.
GstringGirl: yeah, not having second helpings.
mack0813: Janji notices your lack of appetite and makes a joke about it, entirely forgetting about his own troubles over the last few days.
GstringGirl: I ignore him loftily.
mack0813: Probably the wisest course. Anyway, after breakfast, you all end up mounted on these strange beasts called 'horses'. Like camels, they have four legs and a saddle. Unlike camels, they don't kneel down so you can get up on them. And they smell weird.
GstringGirl: I've never seen a horse, so I don't know how they smell.
mack0813: With their noses, obviously ... Sorry, bad joke. I have no idea what a camel smells like either, but they'd smell different, and Svetlana prefers camels because that's what she's used to.
GstringGirl: haha so funny. Okay so Svetlana's on a horse. Does she think she can get away from Janji on this horse?
mack0813: Not really, sorry. Not only does Svetlana only have the vaguest idea of how this thing is steered and controlled, but they don't even give her reins. Her horse - a fairly docile specimen of the breed, as far as Svetlana can see - has a lead rein attaching it to the wagon.
GstringGirl: Wagon?
mack0813: yeah, as they don't have elephants for sale, Janji is riding in a wagon.
GstringGirl: hahahahahahahahahahahaha
GstringGirl: oh god oh god thats the funniest thing ever. Hes really riding in a wagon?
mack0813: He really is. With cushions, even.
GstringGirl: and the guards?
mack0813: All on horseback. They seem to know how to ride.
GstringGirl: ok, so we're riding through the forest now? with lots of trees? and trees are strange to me?
mack0813: Yes, you are, yes there are, and yes they are.
GstringGirl: Good. Because I'm pretending to be scared of the forest.
mack0813: … scared of the forest.
GstringGirl: yeah. Making like I'm terrified of it. The wind shifts in the trees, I'm looking around all worried. A branch creaks, I want to hide. That sort of thing.
mack0813: Sure, you can pull that off. You're from a culture where women are seen as barely human. Second class citizens at best. For a 'weak woman' to show fear where there is no real need to show fear, they believe that without hesitation. It bolsters their male egos.
GstringGirl: Good. I play it up. Make them think I don't even want to go into the forest to, uh, go to the bathroom.
mack0813: Okay … sure. I'm guessing you go behind the wagon or something.
GstringGirl: Sure, if they let me.
mack0813: Yeah, they let you.
GstringGirl: But what about the chain?
mack0813: The chain?
GstringGirl: yeah. Last time you told me that there was a slender chain around my wrist, attaching me to Janji.
mack0813: I did, didn't I. And that means that even when you're sleeping in the inn, they attached the clasp on the other end of the chain to the bed you were sleeping on. So … with the chain … the guard leads you around to the other side of the wagon, attaches the clasp to the wagon, then leaves you to do what you have to.
GstringGirl: You said it's a slender chain, right?
mack0813: Yeah, it's sort of symbolic, and also a measure of the contempt in which they hold you. A weak chain for a weak woman, that sort of thing.
GstringGirl: Excellent. And when I'm on the horse?
mack0813: It's attached to the horse's saddle.
GstringGirl: Does anyone watch me very closely while I'm on the horse?
mack0813: Not really; you're at the back, and more or less in the dust of the wagon.
GstringGirl: Okay, I'm going to try to find something to break or bend a chain link so I can get loose from it if I have to.
GstringGirl: Uh, I use an experience point.
mack0813: well, then, you're in luck. At the midday meal – which Janji participates enthusiastically in – you are given metal cutlery with which to eat.
GstringGirl: And allowed to keep it?
mack0813: Apparently so.
GstringGirl: Great. As soon as we're on the way again, I'm doing my best to pry open a link on the chain around my wrist.
mack0813: Using the knife and fork together, you manage to open a link a small way, so that if you have to, you can slip free of the chain altogether. However, this takes some little time, and any time anyone looks at you, you have to look like you're just sitting there on the horse.
GstringGirl: I complain about the horse.
mack0813: After a while, people stop paying attention to you.
GstringGirl: exactly.
mack0813: … which is just what you want. Nice one. Have an experience point.
GstringGirl: How did I get that one?
mack0813: By using in-game actions to get a result without specifying what it was first. Roleplaying, in other words.
GstringGirl: Oh cool. Well, anyway, Svetlana's going to be looking for a chance to make a break for it.
mack0813: You do realise that if she's on foot, the guards on horseback are going to be able to easily run her down.
GstringGirl: oh. Did not think about that.
mack0813: So, as the evening comes on, you figure you must be at least thirty mile out of Kowsom or more. For all you know, you're in the middle of nowhere. Forest all around …
GstringGirl: … which I'm acting more and more scared of all the time.
mack0813: And the guards are noticing and laughing about. One pulls a branch off a bush and prods you with it.
GstringGirl: I shriek and jump.
mack0813: everyone considers it a great joke.
GstringGirl: I tell them all they're being very mean and to stop it
mack0813: Janji, who's been laughing the loudest of all, has his personal tent erected. He makes a point of stating that you will be sleeping in there. With him. All night.
GstringGirl: He wants to do more than sleep, doesn't he?
mack0813: Well, yeah, the guards are all doing the nudge-nudge-wink-wink 'someone is getting some tonight' while they think you aren't looking. Some don't even care.
GstringGirl: Well that settles it.
mack0813: Settles what?
GstringGirl: Making a break for it now.
mack0813: Oh? Describe how you're making a break for it.
GstringGirl: First off I wait till the guards all have taken the saddles off their horses – they do that, don't they?
mack0813: They do indeed.
GstringGirl: then I ask very meekly to be allowed to go behind the wagon to attend to my personal business.
mack0813: Janji makes a very crude joke about how you don't need to put your pants back on when you're finished. All the guards laugh and make more comments.
GstringGirl: I blush and try to hide it, then ask again, even more meekly.
mack0813: One of the guards walks you behind the wagon. He attaches the clasp to the wagon, then stays.
GstringGirl: Stays?
mack0813: Yeah, he seems to think you need to give him a kiss before he'll go away.
GstringGirl: (sighs) I give him a quick peck on the cheek.
mack0813: He leaves you alone, with a comment that the next time you'd better be more forthcoming than that. He gestures at his groin, which you're not sure you understand, or want to.
GstringGirl: Both. Definitely both.
mack0813: And now he's out of sight. You're alone.
GstringGirl: Good. I slip the link, and try to sneak away.
mack0813: It might need a bit of luck. The guards are still fairly alert. Especially the one who asked for the kiss.
GstringGirl: I spend an experience point to get away without being seen.
mack0813: You do indeed. You tiptoe away, slip between the trees, and you're well into the forest before you hear the shout of alarm.
GstringGirl: I run.
mack0813: It's definitely getting dark. Shrubs and trees and fallen logs make it hard to run. And your shoes are hard to run in.
GstringGirl: I kick them off and run anyway.
mack0813: Well, you crash through the bushes, stub your toes, and in general make a fair racket. But that's okay, because they make a racket too. And they have to slow down to hear you, whereas you aren't slowing down for anyone.
GstringGirl: No, no I am not.
mack0813: Which is when you stumble into a clearing in the forest. Your clothing is a little torn, due to contact with shrubbery, but not enough to make you immodest. You're hungry tired, thirsty, scratched, lost, and you can hear pursuit gradually coming closer. Oh, and you smell like horses.
GstringGirl: This seems familiar …
mack0813: Why yes, yes it does. Svetlana the runaway slave girl pauses, weighing her options.
GstringGirl: What options do I have?
mack0813: You can hide and hope they go past. You can keep running and hope you outdistance or lose them. Or you can investigate that strange little rustling sound coming from under a bush.
GstringGirl: Rustling sound?
mack0813: Yes; as you look, a tiny form, no bigger than a kitten, tumbles out. It's … pick a colour.
GstringGirl: green
mack0813: It's covered in tiny iridescent green scales, and it has little tiny wings, and it looks up at you with huge soulful eyes and makes a cute little lost-baby-bird sound.
GstringGirl: ohmygod ohmygod is it a dragon?
mack0813: It does appear to be a dragon, yes
GstringGirl: Does it look lost or hurt?
mack0813: Actually, now that you come to mention it, it's holding one of its wings awkwardly.
GstringGirl: Oh my god, I go to my knees in front of it and hold out my hands to it.
mack0813: it eyes you hopefully and makes the baby-bird noise again
GstringGirl: I gather it up in my hands, careful of its wing.
mack0813: it snuggles into the warmth of your body.
GstringGirl: oh god too cute. What's wrong with its wing?
mack0813: One of the long bones seem to be broken. If you run with it, you may make the injury worse.
GstringGirl: Can I set it?
mack0813: You can try. But you'll have to splint it somehow. You know, tie it to something that'll immobilise it.
GstringGirl: I look for straight twigs on the ground.
mack0813: You don't see any strong enough to act as a splint.
GstringGirl: Wait – the knife. Is it long enough?
mack0813: Yes, yes it is.
GstringGirl: I want to set the bone and then cut bits of cloth from my sleeve to tie the knife to the bone as a splint. Can I do that?
mack0813: Sure. But you hear pursuit nearing all the time. You're not sure if you can get this done before they get here
GstringGirl: I don't care, I spend my last experience point so I can fix the wing. I don't care if they capture me so long as I can help him.
mack0813: Well, you crouch down under a bush and rip away some shreds of cloth from your sleeve, then you go about setting the bone. It isn't happy with the discomfort this involves, but it lets you do it anyway; once the bone is set and straight, it seems to understand that you did it for its benefit, and it settles down into your arms.
GstringGirl: aww poor little thing. I hold it gently and make sure it's comfortable.
mack0813: well, that's an experience point straight back for that.
GstringGirl: wow really?
mack0813: yeah, you spent it on something totally unselfish.
GstringGirl: I did didn't I?
mack0813: Yes you did. But now that last one you spent has run out, and you get the feeling that pursuit might be doubling back. Coming way too close.
GstringGirl: But now I can run with Esmerelda in my arms and she won't be hurt?
mack0813: Esmerelda?
GstringGirl: I like it as a name.
mack0813: Esmerelda it is. Yes, you can.
GstringGirl: I run on through the forest. It can't go on forever. I'm used to really small patches of trees, aren't I?
mack0813: Yes, you are. So you're running through the forest, and all of a sudden, you catch the scent of cooking meat.
GstringGirl: Not like that rat stew we had?
mack0813: No, this smells like real meat. Very tasty. Your mouth waters.
GstringGirl: I move on, trying to see where this smell is coming from.
mack0813: All of a sudden, you step out into a slightly larger clearing. There is a campfire in the middle of it, and a man sitting on the other side of the fire. As you step into the clearing, with Esmerelda in your arms, he rises to his feet, his hand going to the shortsword at his waist.
GstringGirl: Whoops. I say "Please help me, I am being chased."
mack0813: He says something in a language that you don't understand. You think it might be Mornish, or whatever the local barbaric tongue is called.
GstringGirl: Oh dear.
mack0813: … and I just saw the time. I need to get to bed soon. So I'll leave it there for the time being.
GstringGirl: oh no, really?
mack0813: Really, sorry.
GstringGirl: Oh okay. Its a good game, I'm enjoying it a lot.
mack0813: So am I. Play more next time?
GstringGirl: Oh god yes. Esmerelda sounds so cute. And I want to see what happens!
mack0813: She is. And good thinking to use the knife as a splint.
GstringGirl: thx. And Mack …
mack0813: Yeah?
GstringGirl: Thank you for doing this game for me. I am enjoying myself so much. I really am. More than you can imagine.
mack0813: Hey. Friends is friends, right?
GstringGirl: Yes, friends is friends. (hug)
mack0813: gnight, Svetlana the brave and resourceful escaped slave girl (hugz)
GstringGirl: good night Mack (more hugs)
You have signed out of Private Chat.
=/=
I stretched and yawned as I logged off the computer, then glanced at the time. Far too close to midnight for my liking, given that I was getting up at five thirty.
With another stretch and yawn, I stumbled off to bed.
I knew I was going to feel my bruises tomorrow.
End of Part Fourteen