Earning Her Stripes

Part Sixteen: All In

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by Fizzfaldt and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Firebird

The warehouse looked like so many in the industrial area of Brockton Bay; decrepit, run-down and in dire need of a few strategically placed demolition charges. However, vehicles of all descriptions were parked haphazardly in the weed-grown parking lot, most of which sported rebel flag stickers and other such insignia. From within the rusty structure could be heard booming thrash music. Emma decided that her first order of business once she was inside would be to wreck the speakers.

"So, this is the place, huh?" Madison's synthesised voice did not sound impressed.

"Well, what did you expect?" snarked Sophia. "A fuckin' arena with Nazi flags everywhere?"

"I wasn't doubting you." It seemed Madison had taken heed of Emma's request and was actively trying not to aggravate her. "I was just going to say something about how much of a shithole it was, and how much it suits the assholes inside."

"Well … yeah, that's true." Sophia slapped the power armour on the elbow, that being as high as she could reach on it. "So, are we gonna kick ass or what?"

Emma noted the lack of 'take names'. "Quick question before we start. Do you think our focus should be handing these guys over to the cops, or just beating the shit out of them to teach them a lesson about hurting dogs?"

"Pffft." Sophia sounded like she was rolling her eyes. "Half the cops are probably in on it. We'd be wasting our time, waiting on them to show. We beat the snot out of them, let the doggies go, maybe Mads turns a few of their cars into modern art, then we go on our merry way. Message sent."

"Do me a favour and use my cape name. I use yours." Madison's voice was very definite about this.

Again, Sophia's voice sounded like she was rolling her eyes. "Okay, fine, Blockade turns a few of their cars into modern art. Happy?"

"Yes." Madison paused. "I'm happy to go with kicking ass to pass on a lesson," she said. "Firebird?"

"I'm a little more dubious about destroying their personal property," Emma decided. "Don't touch their cars unless you have to do something like beat Hookwolf over the head with one. Let's be professional about this, not petty. Also, Shadow Stalker, once someone's ass is kicked, you move on. And no going for kill-shots. The cops are going to attend at some point, and I'd rather the Real Thing not be known for murdering people."

"They're fuckin' racist redneck assholes, not people." It was clear Sophia thought she was being funny.

Emma wasn't playing that game. "I don't care what they are. They're still people, and we only offer lethal damage if they're trying to kill us. Got it? Self defence only. Always assume someone's got a camera." It was something her father had drummed into her for other reasons altogether, but which had stood her in good stead.

"Jesus fuck, okay. Fine. Pull the stick out of your ass already." Sophia gestured toward the warehouse. "So, are we gonna break up their little testosterone party sometime tonight, or are we gonna have a tea party out here instead?"

"We're doing this," Emma said firmly. "Blockade, if you want to do the honours?"

"I thought you'd never ask." The looming power armour started toward the warehouse door at a steady, implacable pace. "Try to stay behind me."

"Yeah, right. Bullets can't touch me." Sophia turned to shadow and headed toward the wall of the warehouse, while Emma followed Madison.

"Is it just me, or is she intent on being a dick?" Fortunately, Madison kept the volume down on her speakers.

"To be honest?" Emma shook her head. "I'm starting to wonder if she hasn't always been a dick. If we haven't been dicks. But we're just starting to notice it, and she isn't."

"I … we need to talk about this more. After." It was easy to see why Madison was changing topics, as the guards on the doors had just noticed them. "Hi, guys. Quick question. Want to run away now, or get the snot beaten out of you first? Your choice."

Both the guards had guns out now, but Madison's armour was bearing down on them with a certain air of inevitability. She'd chosen not to bring along her big gun, mainly because there was nothing in the warehouse that was likely to require it. All she had was huge robot fists, which Emma had to admit were pretty damn frightening in their own right.

The guards glanced at each other, then up at the approaching power armour. One of them pointed his pistol at Emma; she'd been waiting for this, and threw one of her discs. It ricocheted off the ground between them, smacked him full in the face, then arced back over to land in her hand. The guard dropped his gun, then slowly fell over.

"Well, that's one of you." Madison kept walking forward. "Wanna make it a twofer?"

The second guard stared up at her. "Fuck this shit," he blurted, and bolted away off to the side. Emma kept an eye on him in case he caught a sudden case of bravery, but he vanished into the parking lot.

There was a sudden increase in noise from the inside, and Sophia's voice came over the radio. "Come on, guys, where are you?"

Madison shook her head and tromped forward, carefully stepping over the unconscious guard's body. "Incoming now."

Emma followed along, ready for action.

Blockade

If there was one thing Madison loved about having powers, it was the feeling of invincibility she got from her Blockade armour. Once she was inside it, she didn't have to be scared of anything anymore. Guns were being fired at her, but the bullets simply careened off the good-steel carapace. She knew damn well that it would take more than a tank shell to even crack the outer casing, so she paid mind to Emma's injunction to Sophia and only backhanded them gently.

And then the crowd in front of her cleared, and she saw him. Hookwolf, the powerhouse of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Flanking him were Cricket and Stormtiger.

She keyed the radio button. "Guys, heads up. The capes are here. I got the murderblender."

"Well, shit," Emma responded. "This just got a whole lot more interesting."

"Might want to watch it, Blockade." That was Sophia. "We don't know if your Meccano toy there can stand up to Hooky yet."

Seriously, what the fuck was up with the negativity Sophia was spreading all over the place? "You do your thing, Stalker. I'll do mine." Ever since she'd assembled the first iteration of the Blockade armour, Madison had wanted a chance to truly let loose with it, to see what sort of damage a full-strength punch would really do. And oh look, there was a prime target.

"I got Cricket," Emma said. "Stalker, think you can take Stormtiger?"

There was a long pause, then Sophia answered. It sounded like she was gritting her teeth. "No. I can't. We're in over our heads, here. We need to back off."

"For fuck's sake, Stalker," said Madison impatiently. Sophia talked a big game, but the moment the odds were against her, she acted like it had always been her idea to go slow. Madison was starting to get sick of that shit. "If you can't handle your end with the capes, make yourself useful and go let the dogs out."

"You don't get to give me orders like I'm your personal servant!"

"It's part of the plan, Stalker," Emma cut in. "We got this part. You handle the dogs." Off to the side, Madison saw Emma tank an air-blast from Stormtiger on her throwing-discs. "Go!"

Firebird

As Sophia finally got with the program, Emma backflipped over another air-blast and snapped a kick toward Cricket's solar plexus. It wasn't intended to hit, and neither was the elbow aimed at her collarbone. But with Cricket's attention divided, Emma's throwing disc bounced off the floor and smacked the curved-blade weapon out of her left hand. A moment later, Emma had both the disc and the weapon in hand.

"Nice," she said, clicking the disc into place and spinning the weapon around her hand to get the feel of it. "What's it called?"

Across the room, Stormtiger unleashed a barrage of attacks into the back of Madison's armour. In response, Madison picked Hookwolf up bodily from the floor where he'd been trying to grapple her down to ground level, and hit Stormtiger with him. They both went flying, and Madison tromped after them.

"It's called a kama, little girl," husked Cricket. "Put it down before you hurt yourself."

Emma just grinned. "Make me." Holding out her hand, she made the classic 'come at me, bro' gesture with her fingers. She could already see the outlines of Cricket's style, along with the holes that she could exploit.

The disorientation was as sudden as it was vicious, and she staggered sideways. Her inner ears were going haywire, her stomach was churning, and she was having a hard time distinguishing up from down. Or either one from sideways.

Cricket came in smoothly, like a huge stalking cat. Emma tried to keep her balance and regain her equilibrium, but it was getting harder all the time. She was barely able to get her throwing-discs in the way of a couple of desultory attacks the Empire villain threw her way to test her reflexes, and she knew she was up against it now.

What she didn't know was how Cricket was doing this. Whatever it was, she had to get past it, or this fight was going to go catastrophically. Madison had her hands full with Hookwolf and Stormtiger—Hookwolf anyway, as Stormtiger wasn't doing so well—and she was pretty sure Sophia was sulking about being told what to do.

She concentrated, trying to steady herself, deflected a kama strike with a disc, then totally missed the leg sweep that took her feet out from under her. Her reflexes were still good enough that she lit down rolling instead of utterly winding herself, but then Cricket was on top of her. A knee came down on either side of her body, pinning her, and then she was looking at the edge of Cricket's kama from way too close.

Cricket grinned, holding Emma's hands out of the way where she couldn't bring the kama or either disc into play. "Warned you," she rasped, tracing Emma's lips with the tip of the weapon. The slightest pressure, and blood would be drawn. "Playing with fire, little girl."

Emma had been here before. Held down on grimy concrete while some low-life tried to terrify her with the loss of her looks, cold metal trailing over her skin. But here and now, she was a far different person to that Emma, that helpless girl.

Before she got powers, the mere suggestion of being in this situation would've brought her to the edge of a total breakdown. Now, she was more balanced, mentally and physically. And she was stronger. Much stronger.

"Funny you should say that," she murmured, barely moving her lips.

"What was that?" Cricket took the blade away and leaned in, not close enough to be head-butted but close enough for Emma's purposes anyway. "Speak up, little girl."

"I said, funny you should say that. And the name's Firebird." Then Emma triggered the flame-jet under her wrist. It didn't have much range, but Cricket was definitely close enough. The flames went straight through the metal cage around her head and took her full in the face.

Letting out an agonised shriek, Cricket bucked up and back, trying to get away from the jet. At the same time, the disorientation ceased, giving Emma full command of her faculties once more. She twisted and bucked, then spun the kama in her hand so it slashed across the back of Cricket's arm. Cricket pulled away instinctively, and then Emma was free.

She went straight in for the attack, aware that she'd screwed up badly by underestimating her opponent, and not wanting to give her the chance to get the upper hand again. Cricket defended as best she could, but Emma had already noted the weaknesses in her style and bored straight through her defenses like a homing missile.

First she took away the other kama, then she delivered a hammer-blow to Cricket's solar plexus that put the woman on the ground. Every time Cricket tried to get up again, Emma smashed her down. It was like she was back in that grimy little side street, laying punches into the faces of the ABB punks who had terrorised her so deeply that she'd seen nothing wrong with turning on her best friend.

Every time she saw their sneering faces, she hit them again, and again, and again. Eventually, her vision cleared, leaving Cricket, beaten and bloodied, lying helpless on the stained concrete before her.

A large metal hand descended on her shoulder as she stood panting over her foe. "I think she's had enough," Madison said gently. "You okay? You've got a cut there."

Emma felt her face. It was barely a scratch, one that she'd barely felt at the time, when Cricket had been tracing the blade across her cheek. "It's nothing," she said, and looked around. Stormtiger was lying unconscious nearby, looking somewhat the worse for wear, but she could see nobody else. "Where is everyone?"

"I nearly had Hookwolf, but he escaped." Madison sounded irritated with herself. "All the normals bolted while we were fighting."

"And Shadow Stalker?" Emma looked up into the rafters, to see if their third member was lurking up there.

"Last I saw, she was letting dogs out of their cages. Oh, and I've already called the PRT. They should be here soon."

"Good," Emma said automatically. "Is anyone else hurt?"

"Nothing they won't recover from," Madison reported. "Bruises, bumps, a few broken bones. Pretty sure you gave Cricket a concussion, though."

Emma grimaced. "She's got some kind of disorientation power. I could barely stand up straight. Couldn't tell left from right. I had to put her down hard before she got it going again." Seeking to change the subject, she looked around. "Where the hell is Shadow Stalker? Surely it doesn't take that long to open a bunch of cages."

"She is kind of taking a while. You think she's sitting on the roof or something because she's pissed with us?"

Emma set her jaw. "If she is, then we're due a talk. I get her being salty about being kicked out of whatever leadership position she thought she was in, but her passive-aggressive bullshit is really starting to piss me off."

"Got it." Madison's voice came over the radio. "Stalker. Whereabouts are you? You done there yet?"

Nothing came back, not even dead air. Madison's suit turned its head to share a glance with Emma, then they started through to where the dog cages were stored. Half of them were open and empty, a few dogs still milling around, while the rest were still secured. Of Shadow Stalker, there was no sign.

"Stalker!" yelled Emma, not caring who heard her. "Stop playing bullshit games! Where are you?"

"Fuck." That was Madison. "Uh … Firebird? Just so you know, I might have slipped a tracking app onto Stalker's phone, the last time I updated it for her. And I just checked it. She's not on site."

Emma went straight past 'you did WHAT?' and 'wait, did you bug my phone too?' as well as 'why would you do a thing like that?'. All of these were valid questions (though the answer to the last one was becoming more and more obvious), but she could circle back around to them later. In the interest of cutting to the chase, she settled on, "Okay, so where is she?"

"About two miles away, and moving farther away in a straight line, or as straight as she can manage." Even with the synthesised voice, Madison sounded puzzled.

Emma understood her confusion. "That's weird. A straight line doesn't suggest a patrol pattern. Is she going home?" This was totally out of character for her. Sophia was usually a lot more hard-charging than that. Something was definitely going on.

There was a very brief pause, then the suit shook its head. "No. Wrong direction."

"Send me a screenshot." It was the only thing she could think of.

A moment later, her phone beeped and she checked the screen. Her eyes followed the line of Sophia's travel, then kept moving along that path until her eyes widened. "Shit!"

"What? What is it?"

She stepped up close to Madison and lowered her voice as much as she dared. "She's on a direct line for Taylor's house. That's where she's going. I'd put money on it."

"Oh. Fuck."

"Yeah. Fuck." Emma turned and sprinted for the door. Her next words were flung over her shoulder. "And if we don't get there as soon as possible, she's likely to do something we'll all regret."

Outside the Hebert House

Shadow Stalker

Sophia crossed the road and vaulted the fence into the house-yard. It was a small two-story house, silent and dark, with a car parked along one side. She'd never actually been here before; she'd actually had to look up a phone-book website until she found D&A Hebert. Emma had once casually mentioned that Hebert's dead mom had been called Annette, so that had to be it.

As silently as the shadows she took her name from, she prowled around the outside of the building, getting the lay of the land. This wasn't just time-wasting bullshit; she was also going over in her head what she was going to do next. Emma and Madison didn't understand why Taylor had to be pushed down, so she was going to make them understand.

Hebert had to be the villain to their hero group. That had been the plan from the beginning, and it was still a perfectly good plan. If Emma and Madison were going to be weak sisters about it, then Sophia had to be the one to step up and carry it through to the end. In retrospect, giving the vial to Madison had been a mistake; no matter how tough she made her armour, she was still a weakling inside.

Ideally, Hebert had to be accused of an actual crime that she couldn't pull some bullshit alibi for, and that she would be seen as a villain for, not some poor misunderstood teenager. The last thing Sophia wanted was for the PRT to get all soft and gooey and offer her a place in the Wards or something. That would put Hebert so far out of her reach it would be ridiculous.

Also, it would be a good idea if she acted like a damn criminal, not some creampuff. It had to be something she was angry about too. And there was only one crime Sophia could figure out that would accomplish all her goals. Brand Hebert a criminal forever, and drive her into a rage so she just kept on digging the hole deeper.

Danny Hebert had to die. More to the point, Taylor Hebert needed to be seen to have killed him. The frame had to make her look like an unhinged murderer, not a victimised teenager.

Maybe grab a kitchen knife and stab him?

Reluctantly, Sophia let that one go. If he was the last one to touch it, so his prints were on it instead of hers, it would end up looking like a really weird case of suicide. Hebert would be angry, sure, but she wouldn't be seen as a criminal.

Unless … Her head came up. I take the knife into her room, wrap her hand around it, stab him to death, leave the knife under her bed with his blood and her prints. Cops do a search, find the knife, she attacks them … yeah. That'll work. Emma and Madison won't have a choice but to help me bring her down after that.

It was elaborate, sure, but Hebert was surely stupid enough to lash out and start attacking before they got as far as asking about stuff like motives. And then the Real Thing would be able to find out just how strong her powers really were.

Distant thunder rolled and she looked up at the sky. There was no overcast yet, but with the mountains to the west, any weather system that came in off the ocean tended to set in fast and dump inches of rain in a matter of hours; it was the tradeoff Brockton Bay made for mild winters. She did not want to be out and about in a sodden cloak and other gear. Okay, time to get this done.

Stepping up to the back door, she ghosted inside.

Firebird

Emma clung to the handholds as the Blockade suit bored through the sky. About thirty seconds into the flight, she'd had the idea to call Taylor's house directly and warn them to take cover or flee, but there was a problem with that. The only way she had of communicating with Madison was via the radio, and if Sophia still had hers turned on, she'd be able to hear whatever they were planning.

Technically, she could pull her own phone out and make the call, but that had a better than even chance of losing the device to the slipstream she was currently experiencing, and that was even if the Heberts could hear her over the thunder of Madison's suit thrusters. Madison could make the call from inside the sound-insulated suit, but she didn't have Taylor's number. Note to self: if we come out of this okay, prep better next time.

Not that 'next time' had any guarantee of even happening right now. Having a member of the team going nuts and attacking an innocent civilian—whether Sophia went after Danny as a way of pushing Taylor over the edge, or went straight to murdering Taylor, they were both innocent by definition—was in no way a good look for the Real Thing.

And, her conscience prodded her, it was actually a bad thing in an objective sense too. Neither Danny nor Taylor had asked for any of this to happen to them. Or even what she and the others had done to Taylor at Winslow and before. Fuck, we were such shitty people. I caused this. I brought this down on them.

And then Madison cut the suit thrusters. They were in a ballistic arc, which would inevitably coincide with the ground if she didn't fire them up again, but at least they could talk.

"Thirty seconds out!" Madison's speakers boomed over the whistling slipstream. "She's in the house!" Emma was aware that she'd built several visual enhancements into the suit, including telescopic and infrared sensing. "I need to do a high-G burn to stop, but it'll be too late. I'll have to throw you!"

Well, shit. This is gonna be interesting. "Okay, do it!" she screamed over the noise of rushing wind.

Madison's large robot hand came up and over her shoulder, and latched gently but firmly onto Emma. She released the handhold and let herself be carried forward as the entire suit flipped over until the feet were pointing in the direction they were travelling. And then Madison lit off the thrusters again, and boy she was not kidding about the 'high-G' aspect. Emma sagged against the power armour's grip like a rag doll, barely able to move a muscle.

And then Madison raised her like a paper plane … and threw her. It wasn't even a strong throw, more like a light toss, but it redirected her momentum toward a rather familiar house. A rather familiar window. The window happened to be shut at the moment, but that was very definitely about to change.

Shit, shit, shit, shit … This was going to hurt. Emma instinctively knew how to take a fall, but coming in at this angle and this speed was going to leave bruises. Straightening out, she brought both discs up in front of her, and lowered her head to let the helmet take the brunt of the impact.

She came in through the window like a cannonball, spraying glass and bits of wood everywhere. Curling into a ball, she bounced off the floor—ouch—grazed the desk—ow—went straight through the closed bedroom door like it wasn't even there—motherfucker—tumbled down the length of the corridor, then rolled to her feet just in time to slam into (and through) the door to Danny's room.

And there was Sophia goddamn Hess, struggling with Danny Hebert while holding a big fuck-off carving knife.

A Few Seconds Earlier

Shadow Stalker

Sophia straightened up from wrapping Hebert's hand around the handle of the knife. It had been so tempting just to sink the blade into her, deal with her once and for all, but that wasn't the plan. The plan had never been to kill her. It was to fuck with her until she wished she was dead.

Frowning, she raised her head and listened. Even inside, with the windows shut, the thunder was getting louder. But not in a normal way. It was like one long roll that just never ended.

Fuck. I know what that is. She'd ignored the radio calls, earlier, but it looked like they'd somehow figured where she was going, and were coming here. How the fuck did they figure it out?

It didn't matter. If she could make Hebert's father dead before they got here, with Hebert's prints on the knife, it would all work out. Hebert would lash out and make herself the villain, and the Real Thing would have the villain they'd been formed to fight.

The not-so-distant roar suddenly cut out. Sophia wasn't sure exactly what that meant, but it couldn't be good. Had they landed? Were they making their way on foot? Whatever it was, she had to get this done before anyone kicked the door in and interfered.

Ghosting through the bedroom door, she ran the length of the corridor as lightly as she could, and likewise passed through Hebert senior's door. Holding the knife just short of the blade was awkward, but she didn't want to smudge the freshly applied prints. She stepped up alongside the bed and poised herself for the first stab—

The thrusters—there was nothing else they could be—thundered to life again, a whole lot closer. They sounded like the suit was going to crash right into the house like a meteor, or pass right over the top. The second option sounded more likely. They're going to overshoot, the idiots.

Still, this meant she had a lot less time than she'd expected. She hastily stabbed downward, only to realise too late that the roar of the thrusters had woken up Hebert's dad, who had rolled aside just in time. She grabbed for him, and tried to pull him closer. He fought back, pulling away.

The whole house shook under an impact like a runaway train. Glass shattered, then wood splintered. Something thundered the length of the corridor, then the bedroom door was smashed in. Looking a little the worse for wear in the glow of a street-light coming in through the window, Emma stood there.

At another time and place, banter might have been exchanged. 'What do you think you're doing?' 'What I have to.' 'You don't have to do this.' 'It's for the good of the team.'

But the time for talking was past. Sophia drove the knife forward, aiming at the old man's throat, but he twisted away from the blow again. When she jumped onto the bed to get to him, a throwing-disc flickered across the room and smashed the knife out of her hand. Emma followed it with a running dive across the bed that drove Sophia into the wall.

Sophia went to shadow and escaped her grip, only to be slammed sideways by Emma's arm-guard even when she was supposed to be intangible. Emma forced her away from the bed and Hebert's dad, who was now on the far side of the bed, sidling toward the door.

The light clicked on. Hebert stood in the room, dressed in her pyjamas, staring at them both. "What—?"

"Get your dad out of here!" shouted Emma. "I'll explain later!"

The words crystallised an understanding in Sophia's mind. Emma's turned against me. I'm going to have to kill her too. This was getting messier by the second. Jumping back from her erstwhile teammate, Sophia pulled her crossbow and shot Emma at point-blank range with it. The arrow shattered on the throwing-disc Emma brought around just in time.

"Shadow Stalker, stand the fuck down!" bellowed Emma, but Sophia was done taking orders. She went to shadow so she could reload again, then saw Hebert dragging her dad from the room.

Oh, no, you fucking don't. Ducking back from Emma, Sophia loosed the broad-head arrow at the dad, right in the neck where it would tear through arteries and veins, and she'd have to watch him bleed out.

It hit him, barely sliced him at all, then fell to the ground.

What the fuck? Sophia struggled to reload before they were out of sight, but Emma hit the crossbow with a throwing-disc, smashing it in half.

Okay, enough was enough. It was time to do the 'strategic retreat' thing, regroup, and come at them when they weren't expecting it. Sophia backed off, then dived out through the wall of the house.

As she flitted away through the shadows, one thought was uppermost in her mind.

They didn't beat me. I don't lose. They betrayed me. And they'll pay for that.

All of them.

A Few Minutes Later, Downstairs

Taylor

All the lights in the house were on, and Blockade was making steady rounds of the yard. Dad was sitting on the couch with a freshly applied dressing on his neck. The cut wasn't deep, but it could definitely have been fatal if I hadn't been applying the protection aspect of my power to him.

Firebird was doing the same as Blockade, going from door to window and back to door again, patrolling the interior of the house. I stopped her as she went past me for the umpteenth time. "How about that explanation, now?"

Dad, still somewhat in a state of shock after someone had tried to murder him in his sleep, nodded. "I have to agree with that. What the hell is going on?"

Drawing a deep breath, Firebird turned to the both of us and unbuckled the helmet. I gasped as she lifted it away, and I saw Emma's face underneath. But not the mean, vicious Emma I knew from school. This was a more careworn Emma, with something in her eyes that I hadn't seen in a long, long time.

Guilt.

"We absolutely do owe you that, yeah," she conceded. "But first … we owe you an apology. I owe you an apology. For everything I've done, for everything we've done. For what Shadow Stalker was about to do. It's all my fault."

She gave me a searching look, and sighed gently at whatever she saw in my expression. I didn't say anything; the very fact of Emma apologising for anything was astonishing.

"Yeah, I get it," she said. "You're wondering if this is another bullshit trick. It isn't. The bastard of it all is, you don't even know yet everything we've done to get at you. Well, that's all done now. It's over. Except for Shadow Stalker going nuts. I did not see that coming."

"But—why?" asked Dad. "I don't know her. I'm pretty sure I've never met her. Why did she want to kill me?"

Emma shook her head. "It's not about you. It's about Taylor. It's always been about Taylor." She looked at me and grimaced. "Sorry about that. Again."

"I still have no idea why, though," I confessed. "Why is Shadow Stalker trying to get at me by killing my dad? Why are you two protecting us? What's going on?"

Scrubbing her hands over her face, Emma seemed to brace herself. "Okay, so, from the top. A little while ago, Sophia Hess showed up at my place with a bunch of vials …"

End of Part Sixteen