Later, in the Spectrum universe:
When the detective came in, Karen stood in the corner of the classroom, her ams crossed and a frown on her face. "Why am I-"
"Thank you for waiting, Miss van Horn. I'm Detective Wilshire with SCPD. I'd like to talk to you about the incident today." She waved in the direction of the teacher's desk. "Would you like to sit down?"
The look on Karen's face said no, I do not. But she sat down anyway. On the teacher's side of the desk. Wilshire could see the almost-smirk on the girl's lips, and barely, just barely, managed to not roll her eyes. I'm a cop. You think this bush-league crap is going to work on me?
"Thank you." Wilshire put her folder on the desk. Karen looked at it, of course. "Can I call you Karen?"
"Whatever."
Wilshire perched on the desk, like the host in one of those anti-drug videos. "I believe the officer informed you of your rights?"
"Yeah."
"I'm going to be recording this conversation-"
"What do you want from me? I was just-just-just standing there when that nutjob pulls out a gun and tries to...I don't even know what she was trying to do!"
"She was trying to kill you."
Karen flinched. "What?"
Wilshire laid two fingers on the folder, and kept looking at Karen's face. The girl started to look down, caught herself, then tried to look innocent.
"She made some very serious allegations about you and your friends. Claimed you were the ringleader."
"Of what? Like a circus?"
"That's a ringmaster." Wilshire picked up the folder, flicked it open, glanced at the contents, then back at Karen. Karen was leaning forward, looking at the folder.
Wilshire was too professional to smile.
"Bullying, Karen. Texts, emails, online rumors...something about used feminine hygeine products in her locker?"
"Y-you can't prove anything."
"I didn't say I was trying to prove anything. I just said there were allegation." Wilshire snapped the folder shut. "Of course, this'll all come out in court. If someone had...provoked Miss Williams, they might want to get out in front of this."
Karen blue eyes met Wilshire's brown. Her lips thinned. She sat back and folded her arms. "I don't want to talk any more. Parents, lawyer."
The detective stared at her for a second. Then another second. Then a few more seconds. Karen opened her mouth-
"Your parents are already on their way. They'll probably get you a lawyer." The detective shifted the folder to her off-hand, and stood. "But you're free to go."
"Really?"
"Really. Have a nice day." And Wilshire left.
The door squeaked shut behind her. Karen stared at it, then slowly, slowly, uncrossed her arms, and glared at her shaking hands. She balled them into fists, hard enough for the nails to hurt.
People could've died. People almost died.
She whipped out her phone, checked the social media situation. Some of her friends had tried to message her, but she didn't have time for that right now.
Three people. The rumors kept saying three people saved the day. Some people had seen them slip out of class. Gabe left to find the school cop before anything even happened. Olivia distracted Ashton, Chris disarmed Ashton, then Ellie took her down with her fancy kung fu or whatever.
It was like there was some kind of plan. And Karen wasn't the only one to think so. Some people even thought they were superheroes!
Karen narrowed her eyes at the phone. Ridiculous.
What if...what if they were all in on it together? What if they just wanted to make Karen look bad? It was just a little teasing. If Ashton wanted to kill someone over teasing, that was her problem.
Who were those guys, anyway?
Karen walked toward the door, still poking at her phone. She needed more information.
Huh. Her hands weren't shaking anymore.
Meanwhile, in the Prism universe:
Beep, beep.
Drake struggled for the surface, and finally broke. There was a tall black man sitting in a hospital chair.
Drake tried to sit up, and almost toppled over instead. How long does it take to get used to a missing arm?
"Ah. You're up." The stranger sat up himself, and switched on a light. "I'm sorry." He was a tall, slim black man. Looked tired.
Drake stared at the stranger. "Who are you?"
"Someone who should've been there."
"What?"
"Someone who should've acted a little sooner." The stranger looked away.
Drake found the bed control, moved himself to a sitting position. "Wait a second. Are you telling me you knew this was coming?"
"And I tried to stop it. But I took a few...hours too long. Just hours."
"And now my juggling career is over." Drake let his head fall back, stared at the ceiling.
"Along with your college running back scholarships."
"Hey, I can still play with one arm."
"Technically, but then there's the brain damage."
"They make really good helmets these days."
"I can fix it. Fix you, I mean."
Huh? "'Scuse me?"
The stranger held his right fist up to his face, and looked at it. There was a weird ring on his finger, a ring that turned blue for a second. "Do you consent to being healed?"
"Uh...sure?"
"Good."
Another man appeared in front of the stranger, and handed the first stranger some papers. "His parents said yes."
Drake blinked, and looked down at the new stranger's shoes. "Kicks?"
"Yep. Want an autograph?"
"Uh..."
The first stranger growled "we don't have time for that." He slid the ring off his finger, and handed it to Kicks. "Find places with a lot of determination and compassion."
"Psych and physio. BRB." And Kicks vanished.
Drake and the stranger stared at each other. Drake said "do you actually have a name?"
"Prism."
"Come here often?"
Kicks reappeared, tossed the ring to Prism, who slipped it on and told Drake "hold still."
He held up his hand, and the ring glowed blue.
"Wait-wait-wait! Is this going to hurt?"
"Maybe. Never done this before."
"I'm sorry, what? Can I get some morphine or something?"
Kicks shook his head. "They don't use that, and the healing would purge it anyway."
Drake said something under his breath, about one syllable long. "Okay. Hit me."
-PR-
Fun fact: in the original story - the one this is based on - Drake loses a leg instead, when the characters screw up the disarm and the gun goes off.
