One More Trigger

Part Three: In the Heat of the Moment

Emma only saw two troopers to begin with. At almost the same time, the PA system came to life, the ancient wiring putting a crackling overlay on the principal's voice. "Attention all students. Attention all students and staff. There is a dangerous parahuman on school grounds. Please make your way immediately to the cafeteria. I repeat, please make your way immediately to the cafeteria."

Emma frowned. She sounds worried. Who is she –

The penny dropped, just as the two troopers reached the door to the infirmary and entered.

"Excuse me, ladies," said one of them, a pleasant-faced young man in an open helmet. "If you can –"

His partner was a little more on the ball; he spotted Emma's red hair and began to bring up his rifle. "Christ!" he yelled. "It's her!"

Emma reacted without thinking; she wrenched her hand free from the nurse's grip and came up out of the chair. Her hair blossomed outward; she hadn't done much with her powers before this day, but she could swear that it was reacting faster each time she used it. Bright red streamers of hair wrapped the troopers up like mummies, while more tendrils plucked the guns from their hands.

"Please," she said, "no guns. I don't want anyone getting hurt. And guns are so unpredictable."

They stared at her, frozen. She stared back, totally at a loss as to what to do.

"Look," she said. "This is all a huge misunderstanding –"

"There is indeed," came a deeper voice from the door. "And you made it."

She turned; an armoured figure stood there, with a metal halberd in his hands. Armsmaster.

"Wait," she said. "It doesn't have to be –"

He took a deliberate pace forward. "You've taken officers of the law hostage, as well as three civilians," he stated deliberately. "That's a criminal offence, which makes you a villain." He didn't touch any controls, but the halberd began to hum ominously. "And I don't negotiate with villains."

With painful clarity, she recalled the Armsmaster action figure that she had above her bed. I'm about to be killed by one of my idols.

"I'm not a villain!" she screamed.

He paused, seeming slightly confused. "Perhaps you believe that," he said. "But your actions say differently."

She whipped her hair away from the PRT troopers. "See? Not hurt! They were pointing guns at me and my friends! I don't like guns, or weapons." Discreetly, her hair tendrils deposited the rifles on the floor, near the door.

"I still have to bring you in," stated Armsmaster. "You assaulted a Ward. That's a serious crime in itself." His voice was implacable, his demeanour intimidating.

"Yes, I beat the living shit out of Sophia Hess," she said with exasperation, "but that's only because she hurt my friend."

"What did she do to your friend?" he asked; for the first time, his voice became more interested, less accusatory. She noticed the neatly trimmed beard. Does he shave it to fit the helmet?

Emma took a deep breath. "In the girls' locker room, there's a locker with the door ripped all the way off. I did that. In the locker, and scattered around it, is a heap of used feminine products that were put in there before the Christmas break. It's Taylor's locker. She opened it, Sophia shoved her in there, and locked the door on her. I didn't find out till the end of the period. She was in there for an hour. Up to her waist in stuff I don't even want to think about."

She stared at him defiantly. "And that's why I went and beat the living goddamn shit out of Sophia goddamn Hess."

Armsmaster paused again. His lips were moving very slightly. He must be speaking on the radio.

"Your story will be checked out," he said. "In the meantime, let these people go."

"I wasn't holding them," she protested. "Well, okay, those guys, yes, but they can go if they want. And these are my friends, and this is the school nurse. She was treating my hand when they came in."

Taylor half sat up, roused by the noise. "Emma?" she said. "What's going on?" She spotted the armoured cape in the doorway. "Wow, Armsmaster's here? C'n you get his autograph for me? 'M feeling kinda sleepy ..." She settled down again, pulling the blanket over herself.

"Taylor can't be moved right now," said the nurse unexpectedly. "She's suffering from extreme mental trauma, and she has numerous small cuts and abrasions that need observation; from the description of where she was, even a tiny cut could lead to a very nasty infection." She gave Armsmaster a level stare. "And I'm not leaving her here alone."

"And I'm staying too," said Madison. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

"No, miss, you are not," said Armsmaster firmly. "You have no official reason to be here, and all students have been told to report to the cafeteria."

Madison looked stubborn, but Emma nodded to her. "Go," she said quietly. "And thanks for all your help."

Reluctantly, Madison edged past Emma and the troopers, then squeezed past Armsmaster. Pausing in the doorway, she called back, "Get me an autograph too, will you, Emma?"

"I'll try!" called back Emma. Can't guarantee anything though, she thought glumly.

The nurse came over to where Emma stood, her hair still waving gently in the air. "I haven't finished treating your hand," she said, taking the offending appendage in hers. "So you beat up the girl who did this to Taylor?"

Emma nodded, becoming more and more aware that having done so, no matter how satisfying it had been, was probably not going to be as worth it as she had thought.

"Yeah," she said. "I just got so pissed off – sorry," she added hastily, suddenly aware that she had sworn in front of the nurse.

The nurse grinned unexpectedly. "So would I. Good for you," she said. "It's good to see friends sticking up for one another." She tut-tutted as she finished cleaning and bandaging the cuts. "Though you made an awful mess of your hand."

"Trust me," said Armsmaster unexpectedly, "the other girl's face is much worse off."

Startled, Emma looked at him. But the armoured crimefighter seemed to have simply meant it as a statement of fact. He waited, apparently content to watch her. So she waited, too.

A few minutes later, Armsmaster tilted his head slightly, as if listening. He said something under his breath, then appeared to look directly at Emma. "Your story checks out," he said. There was ... what? Surprise in his voice?

"Which means ...?" began Emma, having belatedly begun to learn not to take things at face value.

"Which means that I escort you to the principal's office, and we talk to her about why one of our Wards apparently locked someone in a locker full of biological waste, and how she thought she could get away with it." What she could see of his mouth was set in a grim line. "Our medical techs have sealed off that entire area, until all the waste has been cleaned up."

"... right," said Emma. "I really don't want any more trouble."

"That's not up to me," stated Armsmaster unequivocally. "You did commit assault and battery upon a Ward in her civilian identity, and caused her to be unmasked as a result. You also assaulted two members of the Parahuman Response Teams, in the commission of their duties, which is also a crime. I have recorded your statement that you were acting under emotional distress when you committed these crimes; perhaps this will count in your favour with Director Piggot."

He hefted the halberd slightly. "However, we are wasting time. We need to get to the principal's office. It would be in your best interests to come quietly."

"Oh, I'm coming quietly," said Emma hastily. She paused to squeeze Taylor's hand and give a nod to the nurse. The nurse nodded back, and gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

Emma let her hair reduce to its normal proportions as she stepped into the hall. To all appearances, she was a normal, if strikingly pretty, teenage student.

"Very useful," observed Armsmaster as they walked along. "I was going to ask how you got around with that much hair, but I see now that the question is immaterial." He paused. "Do you grow it, or simply create it from thin air?"

"I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "Umm ... just a question. What's my best-case outcome, here?"

"Best case?" repeated Armsmaster. "Best case is that Director Piggot decides that you were justified, or at least not unjustified, in your actions, and has all charges dropped." He paused a beat. "A much more likely scenario, given that you harmed no-one except Shadow Stalker, is that you would be given probation, to be served as a member of the Wards."

"No," said Emma. "I don't like that one."

He tilted his head slightly. "Why is that? It is preferable to simply going to prison, I can assure you."

"Because Shadow Stalker, Sophia, call her what you want, has been creeping on to me for the last year and a bit, trying to get me to come out and be a badass crimefighter with her," said Emma in a rush. "And because I won't, she's been getting her friends to pick on Taylor all this time."

"Hmm," replied Armsmaster. "I believe you. However, you're going to have to repeat that to Director Piggot."

"Don't you at least care that she's been doing all this?" burst out Emma.

"Oh, I care," Armsmaster replied imperturbably. "It's just that, right now, my responsibility is to bring you to see Director Piggot. Dealing with Shadow Stalker, we can do after we get there."

Emma had nothing to say to that. The rest of the walk passed in silence.

The first person that Emma saw when she entered the principal's office was her father. She broke forward and hugged him tightly; he hugged her back.

"I'm so glad you're okay," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "But what on earth are you wearing? I know I never bought that for you."

"No, you didn't," giggled Emma. "Madison gave it to me. My clothes were all grungy."

He went to ask another question, then closed his eyes and shook his head for a moment. "No, that can wait." He looked around the office, at the other people in it. "My biggest question here is, what the hell happened?"

"My question," said a tall, skinny man with glasses, "is what happened to Taylor, and where is she now?"

"Mr Hebert," said Emma. She went over and hugged him too. "Taylor's okay now. She had a really bad time, but she's resting in the infirmary. The nurse is with her."

"But what happened?" he repeated, his voice rising.

"She was shut into a locker containing toxic biological waste for approximately one hour, Mr Hebert," Armsmaster said bluntly. "Whereupon Miss Barnes here found her, got her out of the locker, and apparently cleaned her up and got her to the infirmary." He turned to Emma. "That is what you did, isn't it?" he asked.

Emma nodded. "That's basically it," she agreed. "There are other details, but nothing important."

Danny headed for the door. "I want to see her," he said. "How do I find the infirmary?"

The principal turned to her deputy. "Show Mr Hebert the way to the infirmary, please," she said. "I can deal with this for the time being."

Danny Hebert sat on the chair beside the bed. Taylor's hand protruded from under the blanket, and he took it in his work-roughened hands.

She stirred, and blinked at him. "Is that you, Dad?" she said muzzily.

"It's me, kiddo," he replied warmly. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired and sore," she said softly. "The nurse gave me something to help me rest, but I think it's wearing off. And I'm all cut and bruised from ..." She trailed off, and shuddered.

"Oh,Taylor," said Danny, leaning forward and putting his arm around her blanketed shoulders.

She buried her face in his shoulder. "Oh god, Dad," she whimpered, "it was so horrible. It was dark, and it stank, and I couldn't breathe, and there were all these bugs, and I couldn't get out..."

Danny held her, feeling her hot tears soaking his shoulder, and he felt a slow, steady burn of anger toward the people who let this happen, who allowed that girl to get to the point where she thought she could hurt his little girl in this way, and get away with it .

Hell no, he thought. Not gonna happen. Not to my little girl. Not this time.

As he stroked her hair, one other thought kept running through his mind.

Thank God Emma was there.

Taylor let her father hold her close, and she cried on his shoulder. But even as one part of her let the emotional response pour out, another part held back and worried.

Because she had gone insane in that locker; she was sure she had. Because she had started seeing and hearing things, in her head, that weren't there.

But she was out of the locker now. It was all good. Dad was here, and he would make everything better.

Except that, in the back of her mind, she could still hear strange noises and see strange shapes, moving, shifting.

If I ask myself am I insane, does that make me sane?

She didn't know, and was afraid to ask.

In the principal's office, things had settled down. Emma sat next to her father, across from the principal and her deputy. To one side sat a heavily overweight woman, who had been introduced as Director Emily Piggot of the Parahuman Response Teams.

To the other side stood Armsmaster; directly beside him sat Sophia, her face bruised and puffy, with butterfly bandages and small sticky-plaster patches on the damage that Emma had inflicted. She would not meet Emma's eye; her head was down, her expression sullen.

"I confess, I find much of this hard to believe," said Principal Blackwell. "Sophia's always been an exemplary student ... well, not exemplary, mind, but definitely well within our boundaries. She doesn't smoke, she doesn't start fights, she makes friends readily. And she's a real star on the track."

"Look," said Emma. "Dad and I encountered her ... when? Two thousand nine? Just before she ended up here?"

Armsmaster nodded. "She requested this school. I was puzzled, but she had volunteered for the Wards, and so she was given a little leeway."

Emma nodded. "That does not surprise me. We ran into her before she joined the Wards. We were in a bad part of town, our car got trapped by some ABB thugs. They dragged me out of the car. They were going to cut my eye out or my ears off, or something even worse, and then I saw her. Just watching. To see what I'd do, I looked her right in the eye, and she looked right back at me. She did nothing."

All eyes turned to Sophia. She hung her head a little farther, looked a little more sullen. Emma frowned. She doesn't give up this easily.

"So what happened?" asked Director Piggot. "Your eyes and ears are obviously whole. Or did they ..." she let the question trail off.

Emma shook her head. "No, thank God. I manifested my powers right about that point. Knocked half of them out, the other half ran for it." Her voice rose with indignation. "And then she tried to congratulate me!"

"And what happened then?" asked Armsmaster. His hand was on Sophia's shoulder; Emma did not think it was there for reassurance.

"I was a little peeved, that's what happened," Emma said. "I grabbed her and slammed her on the hood of the car. Asked her why the hell she didn't help."

"And ...?" prompted Director Piggot.

"And she said, and I quote, 'I wanted to see who you were.'"

Director Piggot frowned. "Is that true, Armsmaster?"

"As far as I can tell, yes," he responded.

Emma blinked. He's got a lie detector in his helmet? No wonder he believed what I had to say.

"Sophia," said the Director.

Sophia did not respond.

"Sophia!" she said more sharply.

Slowly, Sophia raised her head.

"What did you mean by that?" asked the Director. "When you told her that."

"How would I know?" replied Sophia almost rudely. "It was a year ago. Do you remember what you had for breakfast a year ago?"

Piggot's lips thinned. "Be careful what you say, young lady," she said warningly. "If these allegations prove true, you're going to be in a great deal of trouble. You don't want to make things worse for yourself."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "I've been a Ward for more than a year now. I've been a good girl. I've toed the goddamn line, regurgitated the party line so often I must say it in my sleep. But the first time someone comes along and makes some sort of complaint about me, who do you believe? Me or them?"

She went to rise; Armsmaster pressed down on her shoulder. "Sit. Down," he ordered.

"Go screw yourself," she told him, and dissolved into her shadow-form. And then there was a pop, as of an electrical discharge, and she reformed again with a scream of pain, curled up on the floor. A tendril of Emma's hair was visible, wrapped around her ankle.

Armsmaster reached down, picked up Sophia with one hand, and set her in the chair again. Then he snapped some sort of elaborate bracelet around her wrist. "I have to admit, I did not think she would try to flee," he said. "That was quick thinking, young lady." He nodded to her hair tendril. "You can put that away, now."

Emma nodded, and the hair retracted until it was no longer noticeable among the rest of her tresses.

"Well, that was a somewhat extreme reaction, but we have to take emotional instability into account," observed Director Piggot. "However, for the moment, I am inclined to take Ms Barnes' account at face value."

"Thank you, uh, Director," said Emma. "But that wasn't the worst bit."

"What was the worst bit?" asked the Director.

"That she decided that I was her ideal partner in rooftop jumping, and that me not wanting to do it just meant that Taylor was holding me back. So she set about trying to denigrate Taylor in my eyes, make her look weak, so I'd cut ties with her and take up with Sophia."

She looked the Director in the eye. "So for the last year, more or less, she has harassed Taylor and had her friends do the same. And the school's ignored any complaints I made for her, because Sophia's a Ward, and she's popular, and she's a track star, and gosh, we can't have her miss any track meets."

She was a little ashamed of the sarcasm that crept into her voice at the end of this speech, but quickly decided that she didn't care anymore.

Behind her desk, the principal squirmed. "I'm sure it hasn't been as bad as you are making out, Miss Barnes," she began. "If there's been any property damage, I'm sure it can be reimbursed ..."

Emma nodded. "What a great idea," she said sweetly. "I have a receipt at home for a repair bill of four hundred seventy-three dollars. That's just one item."

"Four hundred ..." The principal trailed off. "What was that for?"

"Sophia stole a flute out of Taylor's locker and she and her coterie basically did their best to make sure it could never be used again. They damaged it badly, then ... did disgusting things to it."

She paused. "I found it, and had it repaired with my own money, just so Taylor wouldn't confront Sophia about it. Because Sophia would pick a fight, and she would hurt Taylor badly. All she would need is half an excuse."

There was silence then, as all eyes found Sophia, who remained hunched up in her chair.

Alan Barnes broke it first. "The school, of course, will pay reparations to Taylor and her father, for all the mental anguish, all the lost property, and all the medical bills that are likely to ensue from this," he said. "Also, no matter what else happens to Sophia Hess, I want her and all of her friends that assisted her in bullying Taylor Hebert to be gone from Winslow by the end of the week." He looked at Emma. "You will, no doubt, have a comprehensive list of names?"

Emma nodded. "I do indeed, Dad," she said.

"Now just wait one minute," said the principal. "Throw out how many students on the say-so of one girl? Someone who assaulted another student, and destroyed a locker?"

Alan Barnes stood up, and stepped forward until he was leaning over the principal's desk. "You will do it," he said softly, "or I will bring suit against the school, and against every single teacher who could possibly have spotted some of the bullying, and did nothing about it."

His voice grew harder. "This went on for more than a year, Ms Blackwell. My daughter complained several times, but nothing ever happened. Well now, something is happening. And you will do as I say, or I will make it my personal lifelong goal to ensure that you never administrate anything more important than a hot-dog cart, ever again."

He straightened his tie, stepped back, and sat down again. "Think it over, ma'am," he said quietly. "I'm sure you'll see it from my point of view."

Director Piggot cleared her throat. "Be that as it may; that is outside the purview of the PRT." She looked at Emma. "I am forced to conclude that Miss Barnes acted only in the best interests of the Hebert girl, and was justified in her actions toward Sophia Hess."

Armsmaster nodded. "And the assault on the troopers who first encountered her?"

Piggot considered. "They were released unharmed, so I am willing to make allowances for the circumstances," she said, carefully enunciating every word. She turned a probing glare on Emma. "Especially since it will not happen again." The meaning was implicit. It had better not.

Emma shook her head violently in negation. "Oh, no, no, no," she said fervently. She paused. "So ... what happens now?" she asked.

"Now?" said Armsmaster. "Shadow Stalker is stripped of her Wards status as of right now. She will be tried for her offenses and very probably remanded to juvenile hall. While she was an effective crimefighter, this shows a side of her that we do not want in the Wards under any circumstances."

He paused. "As per your father's recommendation, she will be removed from Winslow High. I presume the others will be gone in short order as well."

"As for you,"said Director Piggot, "I would like to extend an invitation for you to join the Wards. You have an admirable level of dedication to your friends, and Armsmaster tells me you showed considerable self-restraint when dealing with the troopers. You can get proper training with your powers, and perhaps find new applications for their use."

Emma thought about this, then shook her head. "Sorry," she said. "But I'm going to have to decline."

Everyone stared at her.

"What?" asked her father. "Why? It sounds like a great offer."

Emma shrugged helplessly. "Taylor's been hurt really badly. Not on the outside, but on the inside. I saw the look in her eyes. I've been there. She's going to need someone to be there for her, a shoulder to cry on, a rock to cling to. She did that for me, year before last. I owe it to her, now."

There was silence for a time, and then Director Piggot spoke up. "I cannot argue with that," she said. "Just understand this; the offer is open, any time you want to take it up. In fact, feel free to visit; any one of our Wards would be happy to give you a tour of the facilities."

Emma nodded. "Thank you, uh, Director," she said awkwardly. "I appreciate it, I really do." She smiled. "And who knows, someday I might take you up on it. But right now, my friends come first."

On the way out of the building, Armsmaster chose a quiet moment to comment, "You didn't push too hard to get the Barnes girl on the team, Director. May I enquire why?"

Emily Piggot turned to look at him. "Are you questioning my decisions?"

"No, Madam Director," he said. "I'm merely trying to ascertain your reasons for doing it that way."

Piggot nodded. "Well, it's simple. She's under a certain level of mental stress right now, and she's obviously devoted to the Hebert girl. Pushing harder would have achieved nothing; in fact, it would have driven her away from us. As it is, once things settle down for her, she may well decide to see what she's missing out on."

Armsmaster nodded. "I think I see," he said doubtfully.

Piggot nodded. "Of course, if Miss Barnes does show up, try not to let Clockblocker give her the tour. We don't want her turned off us altogether."

Armsmaster nodded. "Understood, Madam Director."

The rest of the walk passed in silence.

A Few Days Later

"So you really turned down an offer to join the Wards?" asked Taylor. She was stretched out comfortably on the sofa behind Emma's head; Emma was seated on the floor, leaning against the sofa.

Emma finished painting one thumbnail and held it out at arm's length, to see how it looked. "Yeah," she said. "Told 'em I wouldn't join anything that wouldn't take you as a member."

"You could have joined," said Taylor uncomfortably. "I would have been okay with that." She grinned. "Some of those boys in the Wards are some kind of hunky."

"Well, there is that," admitted Emma, "but to be honest, I think I'd prefer to be here with you, doing this." She turned toward Taylor's feet. "What shade do you want your toenails done in? I have Seashell Pink, Magenta Blast, and something called Rainbow Dazzle."

"Uhh ... " said Taylor. "There's actually something I've been meaning to talk to you about, while there's no-one else around." She sounded troubled, and Emma immediately put the cap back on the nail polish.

"Okay, Tails, what's up?" she asked. "It's not some undying declaration of love for me, is it?" She grinned to show it was a joke.

Taylor shook her head. "No, it's serious." She took a deep breath. "I think I went insane in that locker."

Emma moved closer to her, and took her hand. "Taylor, it must have been hugely stressful in there. I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't firing on all cylinders when you got out. But you've had time to rest and recuperate now; you should be okay by now, right?" Her voice held a hopeful edge. Please be all right.

"Physically, I'm fine," Taylor assured her. "But ... the first thing was, I kept on seeing bursts of light inside my head, and hearing weird noises. And when I got out of the locker, it didn't stop. It's like a thousand TV sets, all running at the same time, all badly tuned. But I haven't looked too closely at the pictures. I'm scared of what I might see."

Emma tried to absorb this. "You don't get voices in your head telling you to go and kill every second person you see, do you?" she asked, trying to make a joke out of it.

Taylor shook her head. "Thankfully, no," she said. "Just noises fading in and out, lots of them. All in the back of my head." She took a deep breath. "And then there's the second thing."

"Second thing?" asked Emma.

"Yeah," said Taylor. "Sometimes when I'm just relaxing, drifting, letting my mind wander, I see insects flying or crawling around ... and I can predict where they're going to go."

"Wait, what?" asked Emma. "For reals?"

Taylor nodded. "I'll try to relax now," she said. "Let me know if you see a fly or something."

"Okay," said Emma. Taylor lay back on the sofa and closed her eyes.

For a moment, Emma wondered if this was a trick by Taylor to snatch a five-minute nap, but she dismissed the thought. If she wanted a nap, she'd say so, she told herself.

After a few moments, she saw a fly buzzing through the house. "Fly," she murmured.

"Over near the door, right?" Taylor answered, without opening her eyes.

"Yeah," said Emma. "It's –"

"Coming this way," said Taylor. "It's gonna circle your head and land on your hand."

And to Emma's astonishment, it did just that.

"How do you do that?" she asked.

Still with her eyes closed, Taylor shrugged. "I just decide that I want to know what it's going to do, and whatever pops into my head is what happens."

"Huh," said Emma. She frowned, looking at the fly. "Taylor, have you ever tried making an insect do what you want?"

"Huh?" said Taylor, opening her eyes. The fly took off. "I'd have to be insane to believe I could do that."

Emma shook her head. "What if you think you're predicting it, when really you're thinking up behaviour a fly would do, and telling the fly to do it?"

Taylor frowned. "So I'm telling it what to do?"

Emma shrugged. "Only one way to find out."

Taylor nodded. "Okay. I'll give it a shot." She spoke out loud. "The fly will come back, land on your other hand, and walk in a circle."

The fly came back, landed on Emma's other hand, and walked in a circle.

"Holy crap," said Taylor.

"Yeah," said Emma. "Holy crap."

"No, no," said Taylor. "When the fly walked in a circle, one of those fuzzy TVs? I caught a picture of you and me in it. I think I'm seeing through its eyes."

Emma turned to face Taylor. Their eyes met, and they stared at each other.

"You can control insects, and see through their eyes, hear through their ears?" asked Emma. "That's ... crap, that's insane. How many can you do at once?"

Taylor shrugged. "No idea," she said. "I only just now realised it's not me being nuts after all."

Emma grinned. "Well, I wouldn't say that," she said.

Taylor threw a cushion at her.

End of Part Three