Changes 3.S
"C'mon, get inside before someone sees!"
"Okay, okay! Geez."
It was a crisp, cold night, the moon fat, but not quite full. School had just gotten off for winter break, students celebrating tonight by hitting the town, flooding theatres and clubs and street corners. All the popular kids were out tonight, playing to their people, except two.
Sophia Hess and Emma Barnes were returning to school early.
They had plans that needed to stew.
"Look, Emma, we've gotta stay quiet on this. I didn't scout for guards or anything, but if we get caught, it's on you to bail us out, got it?"
Emma sighed. Sophia hadn't been as happy about this plan as she would have guessed. It was a perfect way to show Taylor what they thought of her; she was used up trash, weak and worthless. Originally, Sophia and Madison had both been on board, but Madison couldn't come tonight (She was vacationing over the break), and Sophia was… something was up with her.
"Look, I'll be quiet, okay? Ugh, this stuff stinks already." She crinkled her nose, and Sophia sneered. "Smells like Hebert." Emma giggled a little.
They crept through the hallways, quiet as they could without using Sophia's powers. There was indeed a guard or two, still patrolling the halls, probably watching more for vandals than anything. They'd stop patrolling soon, as the break grew longer; nobody broke in after the first week or so.
They reached the row of lockers. Taylor's was in a good spot for the prank; far enough away from the office and other teacher facilities, just out of the main corridor to get to classes. Perfect balance of safety from teachers with humiliation from passerby.
Sophia reached into the locker with a shadowy hand, opening it, as Emma broke out the masks and gloves. "We're gonna need some showers after this." Sophia phased back, nodding. "We should use the ones here, less chance of getting caught."
What was with her? Sophia was a predator, not prey, but she was worrying about getting caught a lot more lately. Emma mentally shrugged. Sophia might be losing her edge, but she was still strong, strong and fierce. Maybe carefulness could be useful for the predator. Besides, the sooner she got this rancid stink off herself, the better, even if it meant using the shitty locker room showers.
They donned the masks and gloves, then untied the bag. Even through the masks, the stench was unpleasant, fishy and bloody and laden with acrid ammonia. Emma couldn't imagine how bad it would be in a month. It would be their greatest prank ever.
They laid their disgusting mess into the metal locker with haste and care, not wanting any of it on their clothes. Taylor had left her textbooks in the locker over break, which just made it even better. Emma smiled widely beneath the mask, just imagining poor weak little Taylor's reaction to this. She'd probably scream, and beg, and cry.
Emma imagined going to class with her in there, the feeling, knowing she was acting normal while that weakling cried again, just like the week after her mother had crashed. How Taylor would finally be pushed far enough that she'd either accept her place or fight back.
She wondered, if Taylor fought back, if Sophia might let her join the group.
Sophia said that if Taylor could just laugh at the little pranks, stand up to them, that she could be strong. But she hadn't. She'd gone from a person Emma couldn't be, to a person she wouldn't want to be, a worm in the dirt.
Somewhere, deep down, Emma hoped, with each prank, they would get that reaction. That Taylor would show some backbone, and that they could be friends again. But the part of her that hoped that grew smaller, frailer, every time she sat there and took it, every time she got emotional.
But this time, she would react. She couldn't not react, it would be too horrible not to. She'd react and Emma could be friends with her again, with Taylor stronger for the experience, like she was.
And if she didn't? Then fuck her. Fuck her for being such a loser.
Their task done, they headed down to the showers by the gym, and washed away all evidence of their deed.
-Shangri-La-
Predators don't worry. To worry is to care, to have something close to you. Predators don't need closeness, and to care is to be weak. Weakness makes a useless predator, one incapable of acting because they had things to worry for.
No, predators don't worry; instead, predators are cautious. They step lightly, because the prey will scatter if they break a twig, or another predator may notice them and try to steal their kill. They avoid other predators, because they don't want to risk injury when they put the other predator down.
Sophia was being cautious.
She'd originally loved this plan; putting Hebert in her place in such a fashion really showed how strong Emma had become. That mood had helped her coast through the next week of Wards BS, had come just in time to take her mind off of that bastard who called himself Grue, who messed with her power in a way that just felt wrong, and the console duty she had received for no particular reason afterward.
Really, who could blame her for her mood, or for getting pissed off at their new member's appearance? Vista was bad enough, with her little crush and her whiny little attitude; she thought she was so tough, just because she had powers, but she'd never really been a hero. Never been on the streets, hunting down skinheads and rapists and drug dealers with no backup or kids gloves on.
Seeing a kid from some daycare in a dinky little mask, she'd drawn the obvious conclusion that they'd have more dead weight, more whining, sniveling brats to babysit on patrol.
Then Michael had turned out to be a fellow predator in the making, ruthless and calculating in combat. The little guy had a boring personality – really, who wanted to wait five minutes for every answer? – but he definitely had fighting instinct. He was cold when it counted, and hid it better than her. Powerful, but hidden behind a veneer of weakness.
It was a pleasant surprise, one made more pleasant by the fact that he wasn't old enough to perv out every time he saw her, unlike some of her so-called teammates.
But a few days after that, everything had gone to shit.
For whatever reason, the Wards were going to be doing an anti-bullying campaign next semester. Sophia had automatically assumed they had something on her, but when nothing happened, she'd stashed away her bugout bag and acted normal. No more risking extra patrols; no more of the non-approved bolts. She had to act like a good girl while in costume.
Unfortunately, she couldn't tell Emma to call the prank off; the girl might see it wrong, think her weak, and Sophia didn't want to have to correct that.
She wasn't worried, but she wanted to be cautious, needed to be careful, if they wanted this prank to go off without a hitch. She'd checked the dates for the seminars; luckily, the Winslow date was the 10th, the Monday a week after they returned. It would have been a very bad idea for them to prank her on the same day as the event, or even a few days before it. A week seemed long enough that any ripples should die down.
She smiled to herself as she imagined it. Emma stifling laughter as she talked about the 'evils of bullying', Hebert's face in the crowd; these things would make the whole boring exercise worth it. All the laying low, the careful planning, would be worth it, after that.
Hebert would be in her place, and Emma would be a real predator at last.
Hebert was a perfect target for Sophia; as Emma had told her, she was a flake, a crying, shallow, weak, and boring person. Hebert had never fought back, never showed even a hint of predatory instinct. She just ran away, hid, whined to others about her problems, cried. She was prey.
Prey needed to know its place. The alphas fight for dominance, the others stay out of the way or get bitten. Like attracts like, but the top and bottom were singular. Sophia was the alpha; strong, determined, powerful, heroic; and Hebert needed to accept she was the bottom, weak and powerless and supplicant, instead of trying to claw her way out of the hierarchy.
After their shower, they snuck out, tossing the bag, gloves and masks into nearby dumpsters. They headed home in the dark, Emma by bus, Sophia on foot.
-Shangri-La-
Sophia approached her house, slightly out of breath after a long jog. Her track team might be a cover, but at least it had benefits. Better than tutoring, that was sure.
Her house wasn't in the greatest of neighborhoods. Stonemast Avenue was dark, with sparse streetlamps, right on a border between the ABB and E88 territories. Kind of a run-down area with scrubby lawns and remains of good gardening, and occasionally rusting trash and stone that may have once been lawn ornaments. Her own house bore signs of housing her four-year-old sister, in the form of various toys left around the yard.
Two cars sat parked in the driveway, one an old but reliable silver minivan, the other a broken-down, blue, somewhat rusty muscle car.
Steven was home.
Well, that killed her mood. She resolved to sneak into the house with her powers, slipping into her window on the second floor, and climbing into bed. She hadn't eaten, but she'd just have to go downstairs later and see if there were any leftovers.
She lay on her bed a few hours, listening to the sounds of her family and Steven moving about. She read a little, listened to some music, but generally kept quiet. No need to draw attention.
The walls of her room were covered in the trappings of a teenage girl's life; posters of her favorite bands and singers, a bookshelf full of fantasy novels, and a mirror on her dresser/desk, half obscured by photos of her family.
Her mom, tired but happy. She worked two jobs for them, and while she'd never admit it aloud, she respected the hell out of her mother for it.
Her brother Terry, star of his senior class, athletic and charismatic. A predator like her, and he had even figured out her secret on his own.
Her loving little sister, Sarah. The little 3-year-old was adorable, and even thinking of her brought a smile to Sophia's face. She wasn't old enough to be strong, but Sophia knew she would one day.
Emma. A survivor, strong, a fighter. A friend, one who stayed by her side. They'd each saved the other's life, and fought back when it counted.
Absent from every family photo, save for a hand or arm, was a fourth figure. Darker skin than the rest of her family, with neatly kept nails and strong hands. No torso or face, just jagged, angry cuts to remove everything that wasn't her family from the photos.
Steven wasn't family, no matter what her mom thought.
Hours later, after everyone had gone to bed, she snuck downstairs. She'd memorized the floors, dodging every creak and groan, padding as softly as she could without her powers. The fridge contained painfully little, but there were enough leftovers to sate her, even if she did eat them cold.
She headed back, but paused at the foot of the stairs. A whimpering sound was coming from Sarah's room.
She opened the door. Sarah was on her bed, tossing and turning, blankets everywhere. Sophia rushed over and gathered her up, rocking her. She woke up slowly, and clung to her sister as she did.
Sophia murmured to her sister, calming her from her nightmare, cradling the little girl and rocking her, wiping away her tears, making little sense of the few mumbled bits of dream Sarah tried to describe, but still being there for her. She stayed like that for almost an hour, the warmth of her sister's fragile young body in her arms.
It reminded her of that day, months ago, when she had held someone in her arms, trying to drag them from the water, get them to safety, get out of this hellhole. Their fragile body limp, and cold, the waves red.
After she put Sarah back to bed, she went back upstairs, and she cried herself to sleep.
A/N: I plan on posting a second Worm fanfic this week, probably Wednesday. Keep an eye out for it.