Chapter five.

Review responses
Mike: That summary never existed, it was all in your imagination.
Dirk Digglit: Ouch

This one is shorter than the last, but I preferred to get it out of the way so I could work on the interlude that goes after and closes the first arc of the fic, which hopefully I will publish tomorrow if everything goes okay as it's practically completed.

As always, please leave a review for the chapter, it improves moral as well as quality of writing.

"I walked in, then went to my locker, and thought I heard something coming from the next floor, so I went up the stairs."

"Then you identified the origin of the noise?" The PRT agent sitting in the chair in front of me asked. It was painfully obvious he wasn't a cop, even if, to give him some credit, I might have fallen for it if I didn't already know he was part of the police from Archive feeding me Armsmaster entering Taylor's room not even ten minutes after I left.

"No, I thought I was hearing a voice, but I didn't know where it was coming from, so I just stood there for a moment trying to discern from where it was coming, then my f...udgin phone began to ring, I got it out of my pocket, and then it began to smoke, I thought it could explode, so I threw it to the floor -and before you ask, no idea what was that about-, and then I heard the noise- the voice cutting off. I walked down the corridor and noticed the smell coming from one of the lockers, I realized Taylor must be inside, so I opened it-"

"You opened it with the pair of tweezers you always carry inside your backpack?" He asked.
I crossed my arms over my chest. The PRT at least had the decency to lend me some clothes, so I had abandoned my blood-stained t-shirt in favor of a nicely clean, if somewhat boring, grey one.

"Well, yeah, Winslow is a piece of crap, some students bring butterfly knives or pocket blades, but if they get kidnapped for a gang or something and thrown inside a warehouse, good luck getting out of there. I said, schooling my expression.

"Ah." He simply said, as if what I had just said made any sense, "well then. Continue please."

"Well, she nearly fell to the ground, but I managed to catch her, thanks god or she might've got a concusion on top of everything else." I paused, remembering just how fragile and broken Taylor looked at that moment. All for nothing, as it seemed it had been. "She seemed pale, paler than usual, I mean; her skin was cold too, unhealthy so. I covered her with my jacket and then called you guys from my second phone."

"The phone you have just in case you get mugged?" He learned fast, it was just the second time we went over it.

"Yeah."

He shifted in his seat and went over his notes. I observed him, looking for any hint he might be not believing me. He was a tall man, in his late twenties or early thirties, and with a small, if noticeable belly under his shirt. A paper pusher if I had ever seen one. He also was black, which wouldn't have mattered if not for the fact I believed the PRT had sent him to question me specifically for it to prove if I was part of the Empire junior branch, going by how confrontational he had been at the beginning when I was the one who called them. Didn't it make them racist thinking I was Empire just because I was white?

"Okay, I just want you to clarify some things before you can go, alright?"

"Sure." Finally.

"You keep calling her Taylor, and you said she looked 'paler than usual', does that means you knew her from before?"

"I mean, kinda? We're not friends if that's what you're asking, and we don't really talk to each other in the halls or share classes, but she's somewhat famous between the sophomores."

"The school record marks her as a problematic student and an attention seeker, right?" I frowned, I must have expected something like that. It would be harder to turn this on the trio if the authorities had any reason to be distrustful of Taylor's version, but it could work on my favor if I spun it right. I could sick the PRT on Sophia's ass at the same time as I put in evidence the administration and gained some points with Taylor for backing her up. Well, that if she didn't accuse me of being an accomplice of the trio in her statement or something.

"Taylor? No, not at all. She's been bullied since ever, there are these... mean chicks that pull pranks on her all the time, this one called Sophia, and Emma Barnes, they feel queen bitches of the school, and the administration usually bends over for them for some reason?"

"There wasn't anything about this on her records..."

"Talk to anyone in the school, everyone has seen it, they're not exactly subtle about it." Hopefully, me talking would mean the rest of the school populance would be less reluctant to do so.

"... I think that would be all. Thank you for your time." He said, then he smiled, and shoked my hand.

"Any time officer," I said as I stood up from the chair, then I walked out of the unoccupied hospital room we had been using as an improvised interrogation room.

I needed to call home and tell mom I would be arriving late. I had control damage to run, because I was a fucking idiot.

As I walked down Lord street I considered the merits of going back home for my "costume". Now that operation "Made Taylor trigger as Skitter" had gone to shit I needed to up the stakes in the backup plans I had been laying for the past two years. Part of me wanted to believe that the plan was still salvageable, that somehow I would make it work. But it would be better to cut my losses earlier and seek an alternative.
In the end, I decided it was easier to simply go to the Palanquin as a civilian instead of wasting time on the ski mask and the tattered cloak. My cape identity was a polite fiction as far as the Crew was concerned anyway.

It was late enough that the line to enter the club was fairly large already, and I catch more than a few of the people in it giving me bad looks as I passed them by in my way to the entrance, but I ignored them and simply walked to the bulky Hispanic man that served as doorman for the club.

"You lost kid?" He said while staring me down.

I arched an eyebrow, but he didn't relent, I knew he knew who I was. He wasn't especially close to Faultline's Crew, but he was trusted enough to be in the "in" about the secret identities of the members that could have them, and he had been there when I came the first time, seeking help from the parahuman mercenary.

"I came to see the Bosslady. Is she home?" I asked.

"Ugh, you kid are way to young to be here." He said, but he undid the chain fence anyway and I stepped through.
The Palanquin was as full as any other night. Bodies rubbing on one another, music so loud it was throbbing inside my skull, and the strong scent of sweat all around me. It was honestly disgusting, but I ignored everything and went directly to the stairwell. Unlike outside, Pierce let me pass without any trouble.

"Blondie!, long time!" Said Newter as soon as he saw me, and Archive reacted with familiarity inside my head. Archive rarely reacted to anything I interacted with, but the sigth of the Crew always got to him. Sometimes it made us(him) nervous, and others I couldn't make heads nor tails of the mess.

"Hey Newt!" I responded

The orange boy was lying on the floor withan expression of pure bliss plastered all over his face, with a girl in each arm, and some other bodies laying near them. "Care to join us?"

"No thanks." I looked at him again before continuing, "will Faultline be okay with you once she sees these girls, I know is not dangerous, but they will be out of it for an entire day or something like that, no?"
Suddenly, Newter lost his cocky smile and sat in the floor looking around him with wariness. "Oh, boy, she's gonna kill me!"

I shocked my head at his antics and crossed the door to the hallway, then I kept walking until I reached the office. I knocked, and then I waited.

"Come in!" she said from inside, without any concern whatsoever about who could it be. Anyone that came so far inside the second floor was trusted to move freely around, or an enemy that at this ppoint would have made their prescence obvious.

I opened the door and stepped in. She was seated behind her desk, with her black hair as always neatly tied in a ponytail and a nice dress shirt, noticeable bags under her eyes. Having to administrate ten diferent cover businesses in adition to managing a mercenary team had to be exhausting.

"Hey Mel." I greeted, drawing a smile on my face.

"Damian, I didn't think I would see you, is a school night, right?" She asked, ignoring completely the nickname.

"Yeah, rough day, but I kinda need cash for something important, so I was hoping you would have something for me?"