A Waken 16.7
"I would lecture you on the folly of being overly ambitious, but I suspect it's nothing you haven't already heard."
I continued working as Armsmaster approached from behind me. It was still weird not seeing him in armor. I might have to get used to it though. Losing all his work to the Protectorate would take time to get over, even if he didn't seem too bothered.
The trailer creaked as he stepped aboard and settled. Despite that, it actually looked quite sturdy. Naze seemed to be rigging some of the trailers I was leasing, making them look run-down. Could be a good way to hedge our bets.
He settled in beside me, looking over the assembled casing. A processor, a printer, and a Tau Drive, all rigged up into a single casing. This would be the… Twentieth? The Foundation and I had been making steady progress distributing the rigs.
Unless someone could hit specific trailers in eight different states, it was no longer possible to threaten Veda by attacking her hardware.
"I've seen your schematic for the solar ring," Armsmaster told me. He grabbed one of the tools and started working on the plates. We were fitting them around the casing along the trailer walls as a little extra security. "It is very ambitious."
"So I'm told," I replied.
"I'm curious about the carbon nano-materials you proposed for the elevator's support system."
"I'd build the whole thing out of E-Carbon if that were good enough."
Unfortunately, it wasn't. The elevators would be massive. The entire orbital ring would be the single largest structure ever created. It would take a range of materials to achieve the necessary rigidity, flexibility, and strength, to keep the entire thing from tearing itself apart.
Given that the debris would almost certainly fall back to Earth, that was kind of an important part of the concept.
"I'm not sure they're strong enough."
I cocked my head to the side and stared from the corner of my eye. "They're barely strong enough, but they're strong enough."
"In ideal conditions. Practically, the pillars must be placed along the equator. At least one will have to be located in the Caribbean. A single hurricane could produce enough strain to cause structural failures."
"That's the only material that can be mass-produced," I growled. "Nothing in the elevator can be tinker-tech. It's too big. Teams of tinkers wouldn't be enough to maintain it."
Armsmaster turned. "At this time. You should consider what will be possible within the next fifteen to twenty-five years. Increased precision and refinement capabilities will broaden the range and strength of available materials."
Oh.
I turned my attention back to the processor. I was fitting it to a miniaturized power cell. The Tau Drive would provide most of the power, but I wanted the processor to have a built-in backup just in case.
"Sorry," I apologized.
"I have been quick to judge in the past," Armsmaster acknowledged. "I only meant to point out that you could broaden the possibilities of the design. It will be many years before such a project could even be attempted. There is little reason to limit yourself to what can be done in the present."
I knew that. Sort of. I hadn't quite extrapolated it out that far though.
So, I guess he was right?
…
Fair and reasonable Armsmaster was weird. Very weird.
Weird enough it was easier to focus on the power cell rather than address the weirdness.
A backup power cell was kind of important. If someone did try to attack the trailer—I had no idea how they'd figure it out, but better safe than sorry—I didn't want to lose all power. The cell should have enough to launch the rocket and restart the Drive so long as it wasn't destroyed. A little insurance goes a long way.
"I believe you've done everything but fit that component," Armsmaster said.
"I'm double-checking."
"Hm."
I stopped and sighed. "What is it?"
Armsmaster remained quiet for a second. Then he turned and said, "In my experience, excessive tinkering is not an effective stress management tool."
My hands stopped working and I stared at the power cell.
I was starting to dislike nice and reasonable Armsmaster.
"Do you wish to talk about it?" he asked.
I inhaled and sighed again. "I have a therapist for that."
"Hm."
I turned the power cell in my hands. It probably was time to put it into the console. I just didn't want to be done yet. Not just yet.
"I was aware of Shadow Stalker's bad behavior."
I sat up ramrod straight and stared at the wall.
Behind me, Armsmaster continued, "Not what she was doing at school specifically, but I knew she was violating the rules of her probation. I chose not to care."
My fingers tightened on the cell. "Why would you say that?"
"Because it's the truth," he answered. "And it's the lying that's upsetting you right now."
I grimaced and looked at the nearest corner. "I've already talked to Amy about it. Therapist Amy. Not Panacea."
I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about my problems with Panacea. She still gave me the stink eye now and then.
"Amy Dylandy?" he asked.
"Yeah." I glanced over my shoulder. "You know her?"
His shoulders tensed slightly. "The Protectorate occasionally disguises capes as police officers. She assists the department after incidents."
She did say that. "It helps."
"A bit, but it is also my experience that only capes truly understand other capes."
Yeah. That probably made it easier for the Shards to generate conflict. We were all traumatized. Trying to get help and support from one another was a crapshoot. It was asking for something to blow up.
Then again, I spotted the Wards who'd gotten their powers from a vial almost instantly. Maybe it didn't occur to other capes who didn't know the stories were true though.
Capes stood apart from the rest of the world.
Part of the irony of Blue Cosmos. The bigots had a fucking point. I didn't like admitting the bigots had a point, especially when the point was moot. What did they expect to happen? You can't treat a person who shoots lasers from their eyes the same as someone who can't. You certainly can't kill them.
They're too afraid. Idiots who think they can solve superpowers with guns. Like they've never seen a movie.
"You had to see this coming," Armsmaster mused. "It was your plan."
"Don't remind me," I snapped.
I knew it was my plan.
That's what made it worse.
I asked for this because I was stupid. Outing myself to destroy the Empire and Calvert in one fell swoop. Brilliant plan. It was shortsighted. Sure no one would see it coming and it worked. Who cared if it wasted the sacrifice I'd made to try and keep my identity secret?
How could I have been so stupid?
"I suppose that doesn't change what's happening," he admitted. He continued fitting the plates to the trailer. "They're lying. Anyone with half a brain knows Stalker didn't force them into anything. Stalker didn't bother manipulating others. She didn't care to try."
I scoffed. "She was like a blunt knife." And now we were speaking ill of the dead. Great decision to follow up all my other great decisions.
"I can see why it would be infuriating. They're using your pain to advance an agenda you don't believe in. And you let them."
"Don't remind me."
"I believe you made the right decisions."
"How can they be right?"
"Just because they didn't work out, doesn't mean they were wrong. You wanted to put the past behind you and you found a way to get your own justice, for you and Ms. Berman."
"Yeah. We got paid." As if I cared about money. "Good for us."
He continued fitting. The tool he was using was a simple resonating hammer; it echoed pretty loudly in the trailer, especially when no one was talking.
"You'll make more of your lives than any of those girls ever will."
"Double good for us."
The sound of the hammer stopped.
I kept my head forward, avoiding any reflective surfaces with my eyes. There was a little patch of rust on the floor. I could probably buff it out. Just because the trailer was going to look like crap on the outside didn't mean it needed to be crap on the inside.
I felt acutely aware of Armsmaster's presence behind me.
"Sometimes bad things happen," he said, "and it's because someone failed."
Tell me about it.
"Sometimes bad things happen," he continued, "and there's nothing to be done about it. We could have done something about Shadow Stalker and we failed. There is nothing you can do about this trial. Don't hurt yourself for the things you can't change."
My head fell until my chin hit my chest. "Things like Dragon?"
"Dragon was not your fault. You tried everything to help her."
"You're being awfully reasonable about it. I thought you loved her."
Shit. "Wait, I—"
"I do love her," he admitted, "and I'm furious, even knowing she will recover." A hand fell on my shoulder. "But not at you."
My lip quivered.
Reasonable Armsmaster is so fucking weird.
"I hate to interrupt this tender moment"—I flinched and turned toward the back of the trailer—"but there is a schedule to keep." Naze averted his eyes and pulled the brim of his hat down low. "Not that this isn't touching and I'm very embarrassed for stumbling in. My apologies."
Armsmaster's hand left my shoulder and he turned back to the armoring. "I'm almost finished."
I fitted the power cell in place and started the Tau Drive. It wouldn't fully fire up for a few hours. It was better to keep the drivers unaware of exactly what they were driving around. After that, I helped Armsmaster finish the armor, gave everything a once-over, and we left.
Stepping through the portal, Professor G spun his chair around. "J said to tidy your corner."
I turned to Armsmaster. He frowned and turned toward a corner in the room. There was equipment there, mostly piled up in barely organized stacks and unassembled.
"So," I mumbled. "You have a corner."
"Yes. For now."
He walked over to it and started looking through the items. The Foundation had a lot of equipment. More than enough to spare another tinker. Orga helped move it, so I knew.
"How long until you're up and running again?" I asked.
"I can have rudimentary equipment prepared in short order. I was able to salvage many of my most important tools."
Tinkers probably spent as much time making better tools as they did tech. They were very important. Very important.
"It will likely be a month or more before I'm back to where I was. Maybe longer." He inhaled a sharp, frustrated breath. "One cannot recreate twenty years of work quickly."
"I'm sorry," I offered.
"They are only things," he replied. "Things can be replaced."
People can't.
We were on the verge of losing a whole lot of people.
Shifting my attention to G, I asked, "The next Drive is ready?"
"Yes," he answered.
He'd already returned to the computers in front of him, working on a series of algorithms for the anti-Simurgh project. Their idea, not mine. The whole deal with Heartbreaker was really about finding a way to counter her. I wasn't sure it was possible.
Not that I planned to stop them from trying.
Not all master powers ended when the master died. I had a feeling the Simurgh would be one. She could haunt us for years even after I murdered the Hopekiller out of her. It was worth trying.
"We've been working up a maintenance schedule as well." Professor G's fingers tapped away at the keyboard before him. "Should be easier on all of us with another tinker on board." Armsmaster, right. "And then there's Dragon's factories. Those will come in handy."
"Yeah." Like that was the thing I wanted. "Right."
G's fingers stopped. He tilted his head, eyes turning to my reflection on one monitor. "I know it's not what you wanted, but what's done is done. Lingering never helped anyone."
True, but I still didn't like it. It felt like I was taking advantage of a tragedy. There was enough of that going around.
A door opened behind us, and Doctor S poked his head into the room. "You have someone on the phone for you, Colin."
Armsmaster turned. "Who?" Good question. Who knew he was here and would call him?
"A young girl," S answered. "I believe you know her."
A young gir—It couldn't be. "Send me the schedule when you have it. The sooner we get all these Drives out, the better."
"For security purposes," G agreed. "Not for our backs, unfortunately."
I gave that a small 'ha' and casually left the building.
I think.
Hopefully.
Once outside the building, I ducked into an alley. The bag was exactly where I'd left it, stuck in between two bins.
sys.v / Taylor
sys.v/ are you sure?
I grit my teeth.
"If they're going to lie, then one way or another they're going to lie to my face."
Maybe Armsmaster was right.
Maybe no one would believe the self-serving lies of self-serving liars. I'm not sure belief mattered though. Blue Cosmos didn't care what was true. It existed solely to take advantage of fear and mistrust, and the worst people wanted their fears and mistrusts vindicated. They didn't care if the vindication was lies.
And he probably was right. There was nothing I could do. I'd made my bed, and it was time to lay in it.
Still though.
I wanted them to see.
I wanted them to lie at me and know without a shadow of a doubt that someone knew the truth. That in twenty years, when they put all this behind them and told themselves it wasn't their fault, I'd still be there. I'd always know what they were at that time and that place, no matter how much they changed.
They were petty little bullies, and they were liars.
I'll know it until the day I die. That was going to be a very long time.
sys.v / I will meet you at the courthouse
Frowning as I pulled my costume down my legs, I started to protest. "You don't—"
sys.v / I will meet you at the courthouse
...Fine.
I pulled on the clothes I'd set aside. They were some of the items Lafter and Tattletale threw together. I figured it'd be a media circus if I approached the courthouse too obviously, but Taylor Hebert pretty much never wore trendy-looking clothes.
The ruffled blouse parted at my diaphragm to expose my stomach—I put a shirt underneath the blouse because it was too cold for that—and skinny jeans made me look like a teenager more than a professional. Throw in doing my hair up in a high bun and hiding the bun under a hat and I didn't really look like myself.
Actually, looking in a puddle on the ground, I looked like a much prettier version of myself.
And I will deal with that later.
Stuffing my costume in the now empty backpack, I returned it to its hiding spot for a Haro to recover and went on my way. It was only two blocks to the nearest bus stop and then five stops to downtown. I could come at the courthouse from the side and slip up the stairs.
Blue Cosmos had fought tooth and nail pre-trial to make the proceedings open. Of course they did; they wanted as many cameras as possible to record the 'victims.' Gotta catch those crocodile tears in just the right light.
Well, the proceedings were public now.
I wasn't the only one who had to lay in the bed I'd made.
I only needed to get into the building firs—
"You do look gorgeous when you try."
I stiffened, neck receding into my shoulders. "You have me confused with—"
Kati sighed. "Really?"
I turned slowly, finding her leaning against the wall of an alley just outside of sight of anyone walking by. "Worth a shot?"
She grinned. "Maybe."
I frowned, hesitated, and spun on my heel. "How did you know?"
"Because I know you," she answered, heels echoing behind me. "And your father told me how upset you were with the news the other day."
Figured. Dad ratted me out. Because he cared. I knew he cared. Caring was good. I just wished he could care without ratting me out to my PR rep.
Huh. Therapy does work. For some things.
"Knowing you," Kati continued, "you're smart enough to try and find a way to avoid me seeing you go anywhere dressed up. I guessed you'd try and slip away from here. Your home and school are too obvious."
This is why obscuring how you do things is important.
"I'm going," I said firmly. "If they're going to lie they can lie to my face." One last time.
"You shouldn't go—"
"I know," I snapped. I stepped up to the bus stop and set myself atop the curb. "I shouldn't go but I'm going."
"I was saying you shouldn't go alone."
That's when I noticed she wasn't wearing her usual suit. She'd put on a rather flattering but modest dress, a trendy leather jacket, let her hair down, and swapped her briefcase for a small purse that hung from one shoulder.
I looked her up and down and then settled my eyes on her face. "You're coming with me?"
"I don't usually get to dress nice. Might as well take the occasion."
I stared. The bus still hadn't arrived and we were alone at the stop with only a few cars coming and going.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because you're going anyway and I'm hardly able to stop you," she answered. "And you shouldn't go alone. I'm surprised Mr. Itsuka isn't here."
"Why would I ask Orga to come?"
She gave me a curious look. "He's been your shadow for a while now."
"We're a bit too conspicuous together," I admitted.
"I thought the two of you were becoming rather acquainted?"
"I guess? He's…" I glanced at the overcast sky. "I don't know. I guess we get along." Shared circumstances can do that to people.
Kati stopped just short of the street corner. "Well, there's someone else you should have asked. I'm sure you'd rather not but"—she raised her hand—"I think you'll regret not having him there."
Him? "Who—"
A familiar engine started up and I turned as Dad rolled forward in the truck.
"Dad."
"I know your father wasn't there when you needed him before," Kati whispered. "But he's here now, and I think you'll both regret it if he isn't there with you when it's all said and done."
I bowed my head as the truck came up to the curb and stopped. Dad pushed the door open and scooted over.
"Would you mind, Kati?" he asked.
"Not at all."
She motioned for me to enter, and I slipped over the driver's seat to the middle. Kati followed me in and took the wheel after closing the door. She started the truck onto the road and Dad settled an arm over me.
"Is this okay?" he asked.
"It's fine." I thought so, at least.
Kati probably had a point. I could already imagine Therapist Amy agreeing with her. Maybe I was being stubborn or bitter in not asking Dad to come, but afterward? He'd be upset. He missed all of this—the bullying—when it happened. He wouldn't want to miss... Whatever it was I was doing.
Maybe that's another reason I didn't go to him.
I had no real idea what I was doing.
I just... I needed to do something. React. Respond. Take some kind of action. They were doing it again. They were lying. Placing the blame somewhere else. Pretty popular girls who could do no wrong.
And I'd opened the door for them.
I leaned into my father and kept my eyes straight while Kati drove.
She drove past the courthouse at first. It was a church once upon a time. A big one. You could still see the steeple, but two hundred years of build-up had transformed the structure into a typical neo-Roman structure. Columns at the front, wide steps, tall windows.
A crowd of protestors crowded the steps. A police line held them back and TV crews stood off to the side, recording and reporting.
The crowd chanted Blue Cosmos' slogans. Pure blue world. No more capes. Power corrupts.
They'd been getting a lot angrier as Azrael tried to build up his mob. Phantom Pain was launching terrorist attacks. Everyone knew Blue Cosmos was behind it, but Blue Cosmos simply ranted that they were being victimized and blamed. They even claimed Phantom Pain wasn't real and all the attacks were 'false flag operations.'
It was infuriating, knowing what people were willing to believe.
And at the end of the block, my anger started to bleed away.
Dean was there, talking with an older woman and a boy about our age. Before them were about fifty people. Students mostly, from their ages—high school and college. A few were older.
In stark contrast to the Blue Cosmos protestors, they sat silently, glaring. Accusing.
As Kati turned, the two people Dean was talking to nodded and turned away. A reporter quickly ran up to Dean in their place.
That was it.
Dean didn't like Blue Cosmos' protesting style. He didn't like being loud or angry. He preferred to be quiet and unassuming.
A sit-in, large enough to immediately draw attention. To anyone who asked, Dean explained that Londo Bell disapproved of Blue Cosmos trying to capitalize on a tragedy for political ends. They didn't care about bullying. They wanted to demonize capes.
Londo Bell disapproved.
He'd let everyone connect the dots on that one.
Blue Cosmos had minimized its use of my or Charlotte's names, but it wasn't much of a secret who the Winslow Nine had been 'forced' to bully. Me. Taylor Hebert. The superhero. By merely invoking my name, Dean suggested I disapproved of what was happening without me having to get directly involved.
Funny story there.
"He's a very clever young man," Kati said as we moved on behind the courthouse. She pulled the truck into a small garage and parked in the first available space. "He has a knack for this business."
"Yeah," I agreed.
It was clever. Immediately, such a protest might not amount to much, but it was the kind of thing that took off on the internet. Throw in the connection to me and the sheer drama of it all, and people would be talking about it.
I got out of the truck with Dad. Not even five steps away, there she was.
"Hello Kati," Veda greeted. "Danny."
"Veda."
Dad stopped and stared. Other than me, he was the only person who seemed taken aback by the sight of Veda talking and walking about. He looked at her like he didn't know what to feel. I related.
"I'm not certain we can enter the building unnoticed," Veda explained quickly. "The crowd in front of the building is quite dense."
"No need to worry," Kati assured us. "I gave this more thought than Taylor. No offense."
I don't think I took any?
Kati led us out of the garage and across the street. It was pretty barren behind the courthouse. Mostly parked vehicles, some loiterers paying us no mind, and a grand total of one homeless guy. There were doors into the building running the length of the backstreet, but we lived in Brockton Bay. Shockingly, the building had a lot of security. Heavy doors. Cameras. Guards. A repo—
Reporter?
I blinked as we approached, and Kinue Crossroad—the only reporter I knew by name and sort of liked—turned away from the guard and smiled.
"Kinue," Kati greeted.
"Kati," she replied. She glanced toward me. "Good to see you again, Ms. Hebert. Mr. Hebert."
"Ms. Crossroad," Dad replied.
I glanced at Kati questioningly.
"You get to know people as a reporter," she explained.
"Like Carl." Kinue turned to the guard, an older black man with a bushy beard. He smiled at me and tipped his hat. "Carl's a fan."
"Anyone who sends Nazis my way in casts is a friend of mine," Carl drawled in an unfamiliar accent.
He glanced around briefly, then reached back and pulled on the door. His other hand swiped a card from his belt over a scanner. The door snapped and he pulled it open.
"Down the hall and up the stairs," he told us. "Then turn left and head to 4C. There's a stairway that'll take you up into the second gallery. Should be a good view."
Kati quickly ushered us through the door and Kinue waved to Carl as he nodded and closed the door.
"He's good people," Kinue told us.
"Thank you for the connection, Ms. Crossroad," Kati said from in front of me.
"An exclusive is an exclusive."
Oh. That made sense.
Kinue flinched when I looked back at her. "Not today," she assured me. "And perhaps on another topic. Not sure I want to score a story like this."
I didn't know what that meant. 'Like this' as in how she'd gotten the exclusive, or as in the content? Well... Fine, I decided. If she tried, I'd probably refuse to talk about today or any related days. Not like this. If she wanted something else though, fine. That was fair.
I'd think about it later.
We went down the hall and up the stairs. In the hall, we mixed into a throng of people moving up and down the halls. Police officers, men, and women in suits. Ironic. The courthouse started as a church, and when you stepped inside it still mostly looked like everything was ready for the Sunday sermon.
I kept my head down, sandwiched between Dad and Veda. I didn't want to make a scene in the halls. Kati was right about that. Turning myself into a spectacle here would be a PR disaster.
If I did it the wrong way.
I needed to get into that courtroom.
The moment Madison, Julia, or whoever saw me watching, the reporters and the cameramen would be there too. If I made a grand show of myself in any other way, gathered a crowd outside, I'd look like I was hungry for attention. If I tried to make heard anything I truly wished to say, I'd look too emotional. That was bad for where I was now.
But just sitting in the gallery, watching with accusing and disdainful eyes as they lied?
Dean had the right idea.
A picture can be worth a thousand words and I wanted this one to be worth millions.
My pain.
My hate.
All of my sorrow.
Being a bit melodramatic. Oh well.
We made our way down the hall. I saw the sign for 4C by a set of double doors. They led into a courtroom, obviously. I only needed a moment to spot the stairs. The room in 4C must have been the original chapel, or part of it. It was arranged like a church, with a second-floor gallery that overlooked the room below.
It was perfect.
There were two TV crews set up on the gallery, their attention focused downward. If we took the seats just behind them, I'd be clearly visible from the stand. They'd see me, framed between the camera crews.
They'd all see me while they lied.
Fortunately, the upper gallery wasn't that stacked in the middle. I don't think anyone wanted to be between the cameras. That suited me. I slipped between the rows of chairs and took my seat. Dad sat to my right. Veda to my left.
Kati went around and sat down beside Dad. She whispered something to him and he nodded. Kinue kept some distance. She didn't have her notepad or her phone. She always had those out when working. That she'd sat without them almost made me think she'd come the rest of the way just to be supportive.
Dad still had his arm over my shoulders.
Down below, there were lots of lawyers. I spotted Copeland and a few others down below. I still remembered most of their names. They talked to one another and the man in the black robe.
I'd done my research on the Honorable Judge Hoxton. He didn't seem like he was sympathetic to Blue Cosmos. He wasn't sympathetic to the PRT or the Protectorate either. If anything, I'd say he wasn't fond of either side.
That probably suited both sides.
The judge might not like them, but they both knew he didn't like the other either.
I couldn't see any of the bitches.
Veda looked uneasy beside me. Dad's grip was firm on my shoulder. Kati stared down as men in suits went back and forth and talked. No one said anything. I was thankful for the silence.
I didn't want to talk right now.
I might start crying.
That's not the picture I wanted.
I needed to keep myself together until the time was right. Keep my hat on and my face down. Once the proceedings began, everyone would be focused on them and I could take it off without being immediately noticed.
I just had to wait a bit.
The talking continued. Back and forth discussions. Passing of paper.
Eventually, the judge waved to one of the white-shirted officers. He nodded. The man nodded back.
"All rise," a deep voice called.
The judge quickly waved and shook his head. Judge Hoxton had a reputation for not standing on ceremony.
"Be seated," the voice followed.
The suits quickly shuffled to their tables, most of them out of my sight.
I shifted uneasily.
"We can leave if you want," Dad whispered. I kept my eyes forward. Dad squeezed my shoulder and nodded without another word.
There would be no leaving.
I ran away before. It was easier to just ditch school, ditch living than to face them again and again…
I let them win.
Fear is the enemy.
Going to school became so miserable, so frightening, I bottled myself away into being Newtype. I gave up. All the excuses I made were just that, excuses. They tried to ruin my life and I let them do it.
"I hope everyone had a good lunch," Hoxton said. "We might miss dinner and we have a jury waiting. Let's get on with it."
I'd checked on the court's schedule and all the news about the case. I didn't want to be here for the whole thing, just the one part that mattered to me.
I had to face them now. I might like to think it was about making the truth known, but really? Yeah. If I were honest, I was doing it for me. Because I'd changed. I needed to face them one last time and reclaim what they took.
The judge sorted some papers on his desk. "Let's get down to the meat and potatoes. The Plaintiffs object to my ruling on the matter of Martin Fully's testimony?"
"Your honor," Copeland replied with a heaping helping of glee.
I ignored the conversation. I had no idea who Martin Fully was. I mean, I'd looked him up because I didn't but ultimately I didn't know what he had to do with anything. Copeland said he knew Sophia but the guy was just a Youth Guard grunt and not even her rep. I didn't know what he knew. I didn't care.
Casually, I reached up and pulled off my hat. I undid my hair and let it bob down.
Dad gave me a worried look but said nothing.
Veda glanced around, watching the people around us curiously.
"This might take a while," Kati warned. "Proceedings are slow, even when they finally get going."
She wasn't wrong. Even the reporters and camera crews around me were bored. Fortunately, they mostly glued their eyes to their phones and didn't notice me.
For the next hour, the PRT kept making motions and objections. It sounded a lot like throwing things at the wall and seeing if any stuck. The judge was visibly agitated the entire time. Copeland sounded smug. The bright side was I didn't have to see it.
It went on and on. Witnesses this, lines of questioning that, they don't really know what happened. Et cetera.
Blue Cosmos' case was scheduled for the next week. Witness after witness after witness. Dozens of them. I didn't care about any of it.
I only wanted to face those girls.
The rest of this… It just didn't involve me anymore. Mostly.
"We believe Ms. Oliver's testimony is overly prejudicial and lacks substance," the PRT man argued. "She can't corroborate her claim that Deputy Director Calvert ordered members of the PRT to turn a blind eye to Sophia Hess' behavior. It's hearsay."
"Your Honor has already ruled on this manner," Copeland retorted.
"So I have," Hoxton agreed. "Ms. Oliver is perfectly capable of testifying about behaviors and attitudes she witnessed. Counsel is instructed not to overstep."
"Naturally," Copeland smugly chirped.
Hoxton nodded, pulled a paper off the stack, and looked at the next one. He looked again. He leaned forward.
A sigh passed his lips and he fell back into his seat. "Defense counsel, do you enjoy trying my patience? I've ruled on this deposition. You may present it as evidence during your defense. I'm not granting a dismissal."
Dismissal?
"Defense counsel is prepared to argue that the witness's testimony is substantial and directly undermines the plaintiff's primary charge. If we take the witness as truthful, then the bulk of the plaintiff's case rests on a false narrative of events."
"Which is what you can argue before the jury," Copeland said with a slight edge. "It's a question of fact that the court cannot rule on."
I sat up a bit. He'd been smug almost this entire time. What had him on edge now? What witness?
Hoxton turned his head. "You're suggesting I can't rule on whether or not the defense witness is telling the truth?"
"Her claims are unsubstantiated—hearsay."
"She's certainly capable of testifying about behaviors and events she witnessed," the PRT man shot back. "And those behaviors and events she is willing to testify to outright show the plaintiffs, in this case, are not being entirely truthful."
"Which is a matter for the jury," Copeland reiterated.
"Furthermore," PRT Man continued. "The witness's statements are corroborated. In fact, they better fit the depositions of Jane Doe A and Jane Doe B better than anything presented by the plaintiffs."
My eyes shot open.
While everyone knew well enough that I was part of what was going on here, they'd have to dig for it. Blue Cosmos wanted to bury it, at least from cursory view. They argued a need to protect victims who'd already settled their cases before trial and that they should only be referred to as 'Jane Doe.' I'm sure he also didn't want any reporters getting ideas or risk Charlotte or I saying anything to the press.
Jane Doe A was me.
I didn't know how they got the depositions Charlotte and I gave into evidence. Dean told me that wasn't likely when I'd asked him months ago. Then again, nothing about the situation was regular. Nothing surprised me anymore.
Who had the PRT found?
They'd avoided using names a lot in this trial, at least in the actual trial part. Protecting the victims, Blue Cosmos called it. They'd been talking around names a lot, trying to avoid direct mentions during the proceedings.
Copeland's voice rose, shouting, "Those depositions are only admissible as matters of fact the defense counsel has already waived any right to contest!"
"We have the witness in the building, your honor," PRT Man revealed. "We ask that she be sworn in and her testimony reviewed before you make a decision."
"Who is it?" Dad asked.
I shook my head.
I didn't know.
Around us, the room had become interested again. Watching lawyers argue jargon and paper was boring. Witnesses and evidence—less so. One was finally coming out, so the cameramen were checking their equipment, reporters were setting up recording devices. A few people whispered behind us. I didn't look back lest any recognize me too soon.
Beside me, Veda turned her head.
"What?" I asked. "You see something." She stared into the distance as if looking through the floor. "Veda?"
"We hardly need to waste more time," Copeland growled below. "The jury is waiting and so are my clients."
Hoxton rested his cheek into his palm and tapped his finger. "They've been waiting for an hour and a half." He thought for a moment and then shrugged. "They can wait half an hour more. Fine. Defense may present their witness, but I warn you that from the depositions submitted, I'm unconvinced her testimony warrants dismissal."
"A fair trial is as much about having a chance to present as anything," the PRT man replied.
Hoxton nodded curtly.
Who is it?
Someone whose story matched mine and Charlotte's, but not the bullshit Madison and the rest were peddling. It wasn't any of the bullies. They were all trying to say it wasn't their fault.
Gladly? No, he didn't really see that much. He never cared to see.
Mrs. Knott? She knew Blue Cosmos was bending the truth and she'd left them. She'd already given a story. Yeah. She couldn't change it now and I was certain Blue Cosmos knew how to ask leading questions.
"Please take the stand," Hoxton instructed someone I couldn't see over the balcony. "You will not be testifying before the jury. Your presence here is solely to assess the nature of your testimony. You understand?"
Who. Who knew? Me and Charlotte. Blackwell. Mrs. Knott. Gladly. Sophia, she was dead. All the bullies from Olivia to…
"Yes sir."
My heart dropped into my stomach and I felt the knife again. That same pang of pain that struck me when I saw Anne, only worse. Worse because that wasn't Anne's voice.
She stepped into view, dressed in a simple black and white dress that looked entirely too modest. Her hair was gone. She had a buzz cut. She looked like a cancer survivor, which I didn't think because there was anything wrong with that but because she would.
Emma wouldn't be caught dead looking like that.
Certainly not in front of cameras watching her every move as she stepped up to the witness box and sat down.
She kept her eyes forward, almost eerily so.
"Would you state your name for the record," Hoxton asked.
"Emma Barnes, sir." She kept her eyes forward.
Hoxton nodded. "You're not here today to give full testimony, miss. Give me a summary. What do you have to say, and how does it differ?"
I stared at her face, waiting for the hammer to drop. This was it. This was when the prank came. When she threw it all back in my face. When she lied and everyone believed her because she was prettier and more—But she's not.
She wasn't—
She looked so—
Suddenly, Emma began to move.
She lifted her head, raising her eyes until she was looking directly at me. I flicked my eyes to the banister, spotting the legs of a spider there. Its eyes peered over the edge, watching me.
She's known I was here the entire time.
"It was me," Emma said, still looking into my eyes. "I'm the one who threatened everyone else into bullying Taylor and Charlotte. I said if they didn't go along with it, they'd end up—"
"Your Honor!" Copeland protested.
"No one is testifying, counselor," Hoxton said without looking away from Emma. He studied her face carefully. "Go on."
Still looking at me, Emma said, "I told anyone who tried to be nice to them that they had to bully them, or I'd turn everyone against them."
I stared back at her, my mind blank.
Hoxton raised his brow, and following Emma's eyes lifted his head. He blinked at me and straightened up in his seat. I only vaguely noticed the reporters and camera crews around me look, startle, and then turn their cameras to my face.
"It was me," Emma declared again. "I was the ringleader, not Sophia."
Hoxton continued staring at me for a moment.
He obviously knew who I was.
Without looking away, he asked, "Your testimony is that Sophia Hess was not a bully?"
"No," Emma affirmed. She glanced away from me for a moment. Was that it? Did she want to protect her dead friend? "She was, but she never threatened any of the others with her powers or with violence. She didn't care who they were."
Copeland stuttered, apparently searching for a chance to recover quickly. "But she participated in the bull—"
Emma's head snapped up and she glared in what I assumed to be Copeland's direction.
Changer. That's where my mind went. Emma could be vicious and cruel, but she was petty. She never had any real drive or fire behind what she did. In a lot of ways that made it so much worse when she hurt me. She really just didn't seem to care.
But there, sitting in the box and glaring at Copeland, there was fury and rage. Veiled, but barely. Her lips quivered, and I noticed the spider jerking about on the banister's edge.
"Sophia hit Taylor," Emma announced. "She shoved her down the stairs. Pushed her into her locker—" Emma stopped, that fire vanishing. She glanced at me again and then turned her eyes to the floor. "Sophia was a bully, but only because I insisted on going after Taylor, and then Charlotte when Taylor stopped coming to school. It was all my idea and I'm the one who got everyone to go along with it."
"And the other girls?" Hoxton inquired.
"I got them to go along with it," Emma repeated. She looked into the courtroom below, at something or someone. Wait, were Madison and some of the others down there right now? "Not all of them needed much convincing."
The room fell silent.
The reporters and cameras kept looking back and forth. Emma. The judge. Me.
Dad's hand was tight on my shoulder, and Kati had gotten up to block one of the doors behind us. There were people there, looking in and trying to get through. More reporters maybe.
"Your Honor," the PRT man called. "The plaintiff's case rests on a patently untrue portrayal of events. If not a dismissal, we should take time to further investigate and see if the witness is telling the truth."
"And waste more time?" Copeland asked.
People were moving down below, stepping out and looking up. I wasn't sure any of them could see me. You needed to reach the back of the room where Emma and the judge were to see over the banister.
"As Your Honor has already stated," PRT man replied. "We've already wasted an abundance of time. Is a little more that damaging? Especially given the number of minors involved in these proceedings, do we want to put them through all this and get it wrong?"
"A rather self-serving argument," Copeland retorted.
"Whether it serves the defense or not is not relevant. There are other factors to consider."
My mind switched to the rational.
I looked away from Emma and found Veda's face waiting. She looked at me with concern, ignoring all those around us. I continued to focus on the rational, finding her face a safe enough place to look while I did.
The PRT knew it wouldn't get a dismissal.
This was PR.
Blue Cosmos fought to make the proceedings public and they didn't expect Emma to turn the case around for them. They hoped she might save them some face. Refocus attention on Blue Cosmos and its scummy dealings. Maybe they hoped to buy a little more time to get their case in order. Work some rebuttal witnesses or something.
And now I was here.
"You're not getting a dismissal counselor," Judge Hoxton reiterated. "Not on this alone." He turned his attention toward Emma and then spared a glance my way, thinking. "But maybe plaintiffs should consider that the witness shoots the thrust of their case in the throat, especially if she's prepared to testify to this effect before a jury."
I avoided looking at Emma while she sat.
A moment later, the judge sat up straight and sighed. "We will proceed on schedule. There's been too much haggling in this case already." Hoxton pointed at Copeland. "Plaintiff counsel should thank the defense for being so insistent. You're getting as much time to deal with this as they are."
Were Madison and the others downstairs?
That's the other angle.
The PRT wanted Emma on the stand now. It didn't have to get them anything immediate. PR for one, unnerving the other girls for another. They were all lying and they knew it, and now they'd seen Emma go up there ready to call them liars.
They might rethink what they were prepared to say, or appear actively nervous when lying.
"You can go, Ms. Barnes," Judge Hoxton instructed. "And I hope defense counsel doesn't need to be reminded that you are at the plaintiff's disposal as much as theirs."
"I did it because I was afraid," she declared. The judge started to speak, and Emma talked right over him. "I was afraid someone would realize how afraid I was. If anyone would know, it would have been Taylor… So I hurt her. It made me feel strong."
What?
"That's enough Ms. Barnes," Hoxton warned in a comforting voice. "You're not testifying today."
Emma bowed her head. "Yes sir."
She rose up from her seat, looked at me one last time, and then stepped down.
The spider on the banister retreated.
…
That was it? Just like that?
No.
I rose up and spun around.
"Taylor," Dad protested. I pulled myself free of his grip and marched toward the door.
Veda followed after me and I ignored the flurry of questions that came from the people Kati corralled just beyond the doors. I walked through them without a care and went right to the stairs.
She didn't get to leave.
Not after that.
I found the stairs and rapidly descended them.
"Taylor," Veda pleaded. "Please do not do—"
"I'm not doing anything," I growled.
I threw the door open at the bottom and came around the corner. I ignored everything else, spotting the flash of short red hair walking down the hall. My feet followed, hands pushing and moving people out of the way as I went. There was someone with her, walking beside her. An older woman with graying hair.
Recoil.
She must have accompanied their probationary Ward down from Boston.
I was catching up through the crowd of people when Emma made a sudden step back and turned a corner. Recoil didn't notice at first, and when she did, she turned and saw me.
I slipped past her between the people and threw the bathroom door open.
Emma stood and faced me. She held her hands stiffly at her side, with none of the confidence I'd associated with her.
"Hey!"
I threw the door shut at the sound of the voice. There. My hands grabbed a stool set behind it and jammed it against the knob.
My voice rattled. "You."
"Me," Emma answered.
I spun on her, grabbing the collar of her shirt and driving her back. My heart thundered in my ears.
"You."
Emma grimaced when her back hit the hall.
I snarled, my voice hoarse. "YOU—"
…
You what?
I glared at her face, desperate to find where the prank was. How did she plan to hurt me now? She'd played and pretended to be nice for so long. She even 'rescued' Dad from any trouble during everything with Dragon.
So where was it?
How would she kick me now?
"I'm sorry."
My grip weakened despite my silent protests.
"Is that supposed to make it all better?" Not this time. Not again. I wasn't going to let her walk all over me again. "You're sorry?"
"No."
"Why weren't you sorry then?! Why? My mother died and I got over that. I could live with that but you—You kicked and you kicked and you stabbed and nothing I did was good enough for you! I begged, I cried, I pleaded and you never stopped!"
"I know."
"But you're sorry now, so that makes it all better?!"
"Nothing makes it better."
"You were afraid? What about me? What about Charlotte!?"
"I wasn't thinking about anyone but me."
I screamed, pulling on her dress and then shoving her back into the wall. "And that's all you have to say?!" Emma's footing failed and she slipped. I followed her down, pressing her against the wall. "You stole my life! Everything I could have had I lost because of you!"
A hand closed over my wrist. "So don't let me win." Emma lifted her head, met my eyes, and repeated the words. "Don't let me make you small, so I can feel big."
My eyes blinked but the blur didn't go away.
Emma grimaced, hands still at her side as I balled her dress in my hands. "It wasn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong."
The first tear dripped from her green eyes, and fingers squeezed down on my wrist.
"You can still have everything I tried to take away."
I dropped to my knees, pulling at her over and over again.
Emma's arm fell around me, and she pulled my head to hers until our foreheads met.
She looked at me and said it again.
"Don't let me win."
