Worm She s Dad Jim Part Six

DISCLAIMER: Worm, Parahumans, and the characters and settings of Earth Bet (and other places) were created by John "Wildbow" McCrae. I don't own them. This story was written for my own amusement, not for profit. If you are enjoying it, please write and post a review.

ADVISORY: Foul Language. The setting is in Brockton Bay.

I spent most of the night in keeping Dad company, waiting for him to call it a night and turn in. After I was sure he was asleep I put on what I'd nicknamed my Stealth Suit and went out. I wanted to see what was going on at the edges of the Dockworkers' territory, where the Dockworkers' control faded out into areas controlled by the Empire.

To my disappointment, there wasn't that much going on. There were a couple of drug deals, which I overheard and decided to leave alone. There were also two muggings: I watched, staying in the shadows while my bugs did the listening. One of which ended relatively peacefully with the white victims quietly handing over their wallets and valuables. The Empire goons might have done something worse to the woman, but their leader got an urgent cell call from somebody higher up in the Empire's food-chain. He told his buddies that they had to leave and leave now, which they did, but not before the lead goon gave the male victim a last punch in the chest. I cursed and promised myself that I'd remember this asshole and pay him back.

I was able to do something about the other mugging. Unlike the other mugging, this one lacked the strength of numbers: there was only one mugger, a mook with a pistol. I sent a cloud of flies into his face: several went for his eyes and a couple of others went into his mouth. The Mugger started coughing and trying to swat the bugs away. He got so distracted that he dropped his pistol. One of his victims, a young Latino who looked like he'd learned that he was in the wrong part of town, picked up the mugger's pistol, then he and his buddy ran for it. I grinned in the shadows and hoped that the Latino would be smart enough to toss the piece down a storm drain at the first available opportunity.

I saw another drug deal go down and clenched my teeth. I hated drug dealers: they took good people and clueless kids my age and turned their lives into sheer hell. I should do something about those assholes. I sent some bugs to bother him, wishing that it was warm enough for me to use wasps.

I went home after that. It was just after two o'clock and there'd probably be more trouble nearby, not to mention in the parts of town the ABB and the Merchants claimed as their territories, but I was tired and needed some sleep. I smiled as I closed my eyes: despite my not having my costume ready, I'd done some good.

I woke up late on Sunday morning. Dad was already up and had eaten breakfast when I came down.

"What's up, Taylor? Did you decide to sleep in?" he said.

"Yeah, Dad," I said.

"Done your run yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," I replied. "I'll do it later."

The television was running with the volume turned way down.

"Busy night last night," said Dad.

"Busy how?" I said, brushing away a brief moment of fear. Did Dad know that I went out after dinner?

"That new guy, that villain people call Snake-Skull, went on a murder spree last night," said Dad.

Really?" I said. The guy with the metal mask had been lying low for a couple of days. I'd thought he'd have the good sense to scope out the town and learn who was where and who had what powers then, if he had even half a brain, he'd have gone somewhere else.

"He went into the ABB's territory and killed nearly half a dozen people," said Dad. "The Cops, the PRT, not to mention the ABB are all upset about it."

"I'll bet they are," I said. I again wondered who he was. I wondered if he knew what he was doing: I didn't think he did. He could kill people but he'd just pissed off Lung and the PRT. Both organizations were no doubt looking for him. I didn't know if the PRT had a kill order on him yet but I was certain that the ABB would try to kill him on sight.

I helped Dad clean up after breakfast, then told him that I was going out on my daily run. Dad was amused by my interest in exercise.

"Are you going to try out for the track team now that Sophia's gone?" he said.

I scowled at him. Despite Sophia being dead, that joke wasn't funny.

"No," I replied. They're too slow."

He chuckled, then I chuckled.

"Don't take too long," he said. "We might go out for burgers later."

I went upstairs to change, then I went out to start my run.

On the way back I saw a dice lying in a divot in a cracked sidewalk and picked it up. It was a novelty dice I'd seen for sale at a couple of stands at Lord's Market. It showed snake's eyes on all six sides: the epidome of bad luck whichever way you tossed them. I grinned. I thought about dropping it and then moving on: the last thing I needed was a pile of junk. On the other hand, maybe just maybe, I could find a way to have fun with it at school. I put it in my pocket, then resumed my cool-down walk home.

I got home feeling pleased with myself, then walked into the kitchen. The phone rang just as I'd finished pouring myself a glass of water. My Dad walked over to pick up the phone.

"Hello, Alan," he said.

Why was Mr. Barnes calling, I wondered.

"No, I haven't talked to the cops or the PRT, said Dad. "Taylor has, but she told them that she wasn't saying anything to them without me and a lawyer present, then she hung up on them."

"No, Taylor hasn't talked to the cops or the PRT, and she hasn't complained to the PRT about Sophia and Emma. She's been cured of that. You know why."

"No, she hasn't shown them her notebook and besides, you told me herself that they weren't worth anything in court," he continued.

There was a pause.

"No, you may not," he said. "Not without a court order."

There was another pause.

"Alan, we haven't talked to the Cops or the PRT since we last spoke at Blackwell's office," said Dad.

My eyes widened as Dad talked with the man I'd once called Uncle Alan. Was he actually grinning?

"Alan, if Emma's friend Sophia had any dealings with the Bay's Capes, it's possible that the PRT's been going through Sophia's e-mails and text messages," he said. "No hints or nudges from our end, just the investigators doing their jobs on their end without so much as a peep from me or Taylor. And since Emma's as clean as a whistle, you shouldn't have anything to worry about Emma defending her snow-white honor."

Was that sarcasm? Dad's expression wasn't matching his words.

"I will sit back and let the wheels of justice roll forward, old friend. After all, we both want Sophia's killer brought to justice," he concluded, then hung up the phone. After he hung up, he took the receiver off the handle. Mr. Barnes couldn't call us back.

"Taylor, do you still those notebooks?" he said.

"Yes, upstairs," I said. "You aren't thinking of letting the cops or the PRT keep them, are you?"

"I wasn't born yesterday," Dad replied. "I might let them see them, but I don't intend to let them keep them."

"How do you feel about the cops copying them?"

I thought about it and decided that I liked the idea.

-XXX—XXX—XXX—

Author's Notes:

Certain critics have complained about my not following up with Julia's further adventures. I wasn't planning to do so, and I certainly don't intend to follow up with them now. Whatever is currently happening to Julia, whether she's met Prince Charming and is about to be crowned Queen of the World or whether she's been thrown back in time to the 1680's and is facing a panel of grim-faced New England Puritans (Grim-faced New England Puritans with body odor. They didn't have deodorant back then) asking her whether she should be tried, then hanged for witchcraft is irrelevant to the rest of the story and will not be depicted.

Critics should note that this story was written from Taylor Hebert's viewpoint. Whatever we see, whatever we hear (Except for my lapse with that Death Eater) will be what Taylor saw or heard, the exception being her own thoughts and feelings.