"Who's in there?"
Sam jolted, staring at the door. "I'll be out in a couple minutes." She croaked. A hand wrapped around the countertop, pulling herself up to her feet. She snatched a handful of rough, brown paper towels. Wetting them and scrubbing her tear stained face then drying as best she could. Trying to get rid of her ruined make up. "Just give me, a moment."
She just needed a moment.
Sam forced the emotions back behind her dam. It was far easier to let it out than put it back. She frowned, she can grieve later. She must. She pulled her purse and pulled out her travel make up bag out. She set back to applying a new foundation with lip gloss and mascara. She looked into the mirror at her blood shot red eyes that looked so, out of place against the pale make up. That'll have to do. Sam could fake the rest. She was good at that.
Samantha frowned, she could deal with all of this later. Deal with her grief. She had too. She couldn't afford to take more time off. This was only her first year of teaching. Sam replaced the items in her purse and stared back at her reflection. Sluggish and drained of all motivation was what she felt. How she looked, even with make up. It would have to do.
Sam grabbed her purse and quickly exited the bathroom, ducking under the security guard at the door. "Sorry." She mumbled, heading to get some sort of food before the next round for the first years started.
An anger blossomed in her chest, he did this to get her attention. He had kill him for her. Righteous anger simmered and overtook the mournful sorrow of her heart. Samantha's burgundy eyes sharpened and focused into a glower. He had her undivided attention now.
Samantha grabbed something easy and quick to eat while she ate she force more emotions down. She settled into what James' called Media Militia and with that she headed back to the commentator's booth. "Took you long enough, Sammy!"
"Sorry, Mic." Sam murmured, taking her seat. "Just something came up."
Hizashi frowned at her eyes and covered his microphone. "Everything good, Sam?" He asked. Aizawa peered over at Sam through his bandages.
No, everything wasn't.
"Yeah, everything is great! Just ate some spicy ramen. Sucker for heat." Sam lied with a smile. How easy was it? Being around James, she learned and tweaked her lying skills. He always could tell when Sam lied but he did indulge her and shared all of her tells to her. "Has the festival restarted?" She asked, knowing the answer. She looked down to the wide field. Students running about on the green grass and Sam could see Cementoss working to build the last stage of the first year's part of the festival. Sam's smile dropped as she watched Midnight speak to the students.
Sam didn't pay much attention to the brackets or the battles. She made comments about the fights but didn't put that much attention into them. They blurred together and she really couldn't tell you who won or what happened. Sam's mind was elsewhere. She was planning. Jack killed him to get her attention and now that he had it. Samantha wasn't letting him go, so easily. Not without paying him back in kind.
Sam forgot about her promise to Tensei and after the first year's champion was announced, she tried to slip away. If she wanted to do what she needed to do on Sunday, she needed to get the hell out of her cast. Only one way to do that in London, a contact that James had. One that she's meet before, an underground doctor for the darker side of London's underbelly. "Sammy!" Hizashi called out before she could flee.
"Yeah?"
"We're going out with the other teachers and some of the heroes that are on security for drinks."
"No, I have a lot of papers to grade." Sam shook her head. "Maybe tomorrow or some other time? Bye!" She took her leave from the commentator's booth. Hizashi looked over at Shouta and back to where Sam had been.
But Hizashi wasn't deterred so easily. He followed her out into the corridor. "Samantha." Sam turned around at his tone and her full name. "Are you sure that you are okay?"
"I'm fine, I think it's the medicine making me and bit drowsy. I want to get as much done as I can before I crash." Sam explained with the same smile. "Plus, alcohol and medicine don't really mix."
Hizashi relented, skepticism lingering in his acidic green eyes. "Alright, Sam. Call us if you need anything, O-Kay?"
"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow, 'kay?"
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Before I release you to prepare for the upcoming festival. I have a small lesson." Aizawa Sensei stood at the front of the class, still wrapped in bandages from the USJ. Shimizu Rin peered up and read the green chalkboard that read in white chalk. Rin's bright blue eyes widened. "What can you tell me about these?"
Worldbreaker Quirks
Midoriya's hand shot up and he answered Aizawa Sensei. "Worldbreaker quirks are quirks that have the potential too. Well, um... It's in the title, sir. Break worlds. To break nations and cities with their quirks."
"Yeah, that about sums Worldbreaker quirks." Aizawa murmured. "Now, who can guess which of U.A.'s staff has a Worldbreaker quirk?"
Rin's hand raised, she knew that answer for a long time. "My au- Pond Sensei." Her classmates murmured in disgruntled surprise around her. She ducked her head down with a faint blush, embarrassed for her aunt.
"Why?" Aizawa challenged Rin.
"Her quirk is weapon creation." Rin started off, softly. "If Pond Sensei wanted too and if she knew the schematics. She could create a nuclear arsenal if given enough time." Rin remembered overhearing the many arguments that Jo had with Aunt Sam. Jo didn't want Aunt Sam to attend college for science due to that fact, especially after the Fall of London. Jo didn't want Aunt Sam to put herself on anyone's radar. Ben was all for it, only if she moved to America. She didn't. He didn't trust the newly appointed queen, none of them did. Jo and Ben did not want Sam to paint a larger target on her back. However, Sam didn't heed any of their warnings and attended college in England.
"Yes, if Pond Sensei were a villain, she would not be someone to be trifled with."
Uneasy muttering echoed in the classroom and slowly, the class started to raise their hands to start asking their questions.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
Samantha made her calls to arranged her weekend plans, ignoring any and all calls from James nor Tim. She didn't want to add frustration on top of everything that she currently felt. Sam knew that James wouldn't give her what she wanted. What she needed to know about Nathan. That, she couldn't face. Not just yet.
She graded the remaining papers she had left from that morning and ate some instant ramen in silence while the BBC news played in the background. Sam feed her pets and walked Sasha before returning to unpack a couple of remaining kitchen boxes. Sam was methodical yet unfocused in her work, not really thinking. Just doing.
Sam stacked the plates and bowls on the countertop, throwing away the bubble wrap and packing paper in the now emptied box. Sam repeated with a box of glasses and mugs then another with serving dishes. She worked because what else was there for her to do? She didn't want to cry but at the same time, she knew that needed to cry. Sam hated to cry even alone with herself.
Work and plan. That was going to be her life line for the next week until Saturday and Sunday. She was hopeless and numb, alone in her kitchen. Sam needed to work and to push forward. Sam couldn't slack behind and she couldn't show weakness in front of these new colleagues.
Sam tensed, staring blandly at the plate littered countertop. Unfocused.
"Nathan Dark was murdered, today. The funeral will be held on Sunday." Sally Sparrow chimed, mournfully and at the same, somewhat cheery. "We have confirmed the attendance of Dame Samantha Pond, who was a sidekick who debuted under him as well as the Queen and her family will attend to give their respects to the late hero."
Anger spiked.
Sam threw her arms and glass shattered against tiled floors. Another swing the bowls smashed and scattered into thousands of razor sharp shards. One last swipe took out the clear glasses and painted mugs. Slowly she sank to the ground, pressing her back to a corner cabinet. "Nathan Dark was..." Sally Sparrow's next words were drained out by a distressed and barking Sasha.
Sam stayed there for a while. Sam didn't cry, she didn't have tears to spill. Sam sat in silence, listening to the TV list off details of the funeral proceedings. A knock at the door startled her trance. Greg Blackthorn. "Now, isn't a good time." Sam called from her place on the floor over Sasha's distressed whining.
"Sam." Sam refused to pick herself from the ground to answer the door. She lacked the motivation to do so. "I'm going to call Tim."
Tim. A thinly veiled threat. Burgundy eyes flashed in the direction of the door. Sam sighed and stood up. Shards of glass crunches under her shoes as she made her way to the front door. Sam opened the door to greet Greg-. "Motherfuckers." Sam growled at the sight of three men on her doorstep.
"You don't answer your phone." James pointed out on the other side of the threshold. "Let us in." He ordered.
"No." Sam snapped, annoyance prickling her neck. She might still be in a cast and bruised to Hell but she could still whoop all three of their arses.
"Sam."
"Are you going to answer my questions?" Sam demanded, softly with a dark glare in her eyes.
"Not all." James frowned, his eyes flashed grey. "Are you going to do something stupid?"
"Does it look like I can do anything?" Sam whispered, her shoulders sagged. "What am I going to do? What could I even do? Get myself killed?"
James relented. "Okay."
Sam pulled the door open wider to usher the three men inside. A small smile graced her face as she closed the door. For the first time ever, she lied to James. It was true, she couldn't do anything to Jack the Ripper. Not yet.