A/N - We rewind the clock back to several hours previous, to check up on our resident detective and find out what path awaits her...
Juliet cannot take the silence anymore. Staring at the opposite wall and thinking of all manner of terrible futures was doing her no good—she needed to get out, to find a better place. Grabbing her keys, she steps out into the hall, locks her door, and makes her way to the exit.
She passes by a familiar dorm, and slows to a stop. She feels enticed to knock upon the door, and hope that Dana would open it and give her a great big smile and dissuade the torment she feels; let this be nothing but a terrible dream!
Nothing happens. Watson sighs, and shakes her head as she walks away, cursing herself all the while.
The courtyard to the girls' dorms was quiet. Fluffy grey clouds painted the late afternoon sky overhead, and dimmed the already intermittent sunlight. There was nobody outside with her, save for one person laid out across the bench placed in the middle of the courtyard. A stocky girl this was, clad in a moody black sweatshirt, black jeans, and black boots. In her hands was an untitled hardcover book that captivated her interest, so much that she did not react when Juliet walked up to her.
"…excuse me, may I join you?"
Sharp blue eyes glance from under bangs of raven-black hair, silently scrutinizing the reporter. Juliet felt the seconds pass slowly as she waited for the girl's judgement.
"…you may," the book in this girl's hands was shut, and she shifted over so that Watson had enough room, "There is trouble in your heart. What ails you?"
"Nothing," the reporter quickly defended, "I just…need some advice."
The girl raised a curious eyebrow, "What advice are you looking for? As a reporter, should you not be better informed than me?"
"I'm not…" but Watson backtracks, "Wait, how do you know I'm a reporter?"
"I've seen your face many times in the Blackwell News Club, and have heard your speeches about the fallacies of the administration. Your reputation precedes you, friend," the girl smiled, then offered a hand to her, "My name is Alyssa Anderson. It's nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too, Alyssa," Juliet obliged, "Look, I'm asking you because I'm kind of in a pinch. My friend, she—she was hurt, really bad. I know who's to blame for it, but I've got nothing to prove it was him."
"You speak of the tyrant, don't you?"
"Yes," she admitted, "Please, if you've got anything I can use against him—anything at all—then I'd appreciate it."
A pause. Anderson was pensive, but this pensiveness changed to sorrow.
"I'm sorry, reporter, but I don't have what you seek."
"And here I thought you might've known something," Juliet scoffed in disappointment.
"Well, pardon me, I was not aware that I was supposed to know something," Alyssa countered, "You think so highly of me despite us having never met before. Now, if you've come looking for a shoulder to cry on, then you would be better off with someone else, for that is not my forte."
"I don't need a shoulder to cry on," Watson stubbornly reminded, "I…I need to find a way through. I need something to pull myself from this…this place I'm stuck in."
"You ought to know, before anyone else, that one knows nothing better than they know something," Anderson imparted, "In much the same manner, one knows less of their strengths than they do of their shortcomings. Look first to your own capabilities, and you will be amazed at what potential you will find."
"…what are you, some kind of counselor?"
"No," she smiled solemnly, "I've…just seen a thing or two."
"What are you talking about?" Juliet questioned.
"I heard what happened out in the front quad," Alyssa replied, "I heard of your scuffle with the tyrant, and of what happened to your friend. Now, I don't claim to know what terrible fate your friend has suffered, but I'm not a stranger to the feelings you might have about it."
"…why, have you…?"
"Yes," came a sad whisper. Juliet knew better than to interrupt, and so the girl continued, "A couple years ago, I had moved back from a long stay at my grandparents' home in the suburbs of Seattle. My parents had to rent out our home here in Arcadia during the Depression of '08 to avoid slipping into poverty, and after many years, we were able to eventually recover and return."
"…I had a close friend of mine when I left," Alyssa noted somberly, "She was very outgoing, very energetic. She often pushed me out of my shell when it came to meeting people and being nice to them. She was good at lifting people's spirits up, and that was a great fortune to me since I was very shy and introverted. She was my best friend, through and through."
Juliet's curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "Did she have a name?"
A pause. Wind swept across the courtyard, and rustled the brittle autumn leaves. Mighty pine branches gently danced to nature's command.
"…her name was Megan. Megan Weaver."
The reporter nodded. She recognized that name, even if she couldn't put a face to it. Megan was among the small section of cheerleaders for Blackwell's football team, and was a name that Dana had brought up from time to time in juicy gossip.
"…Megan went to a party last semester," Alyssa resumed, "and she was taken advantage of. At least, that's what I've been led to believe. I don't know what truly happened to her, and I never got the chance to talk to her about it. In fact, the only reason I suspected something was because I ran into her parents whilst helping my father at his workplace—that auto shop down on Main Street. They were getting their car fixed up, and were preparing for a long journey out of town. They said they were leaving once again, and this time for good. I asked about Megan, and they told me that she had a sudden change of heart, and that she did not want to stay in Arcadia."
A pause.
"I remember the hurt I felt, once I was told this," a hand fidgets with strands of smooth, pitch-black hair, "I was confused, angered. I didn't know what to say, nor what to feel. I had known my friend for so long, and yet she left without saying goodbye to me. It was as if everything we did together, every memory of friendship that we had, was tossed away without a second thought."
Juliet ducked her gaze away.
"…and I suspected something malicious was the cause of her departure. Something wrong, something sinister," a frown was etched upon Alyssa's face, "I asked around about what happened at the party, and received my answer soon enough. I was visited by the tyrant and his entourage, and he demanded I stop asking about what happened; for the sake of the greater public good, he had said. Apparently, raising the alarm bells about a potential scandal was a danger to the public's wellbeing, and they could not have that."
"Which is why I commend you and your efforts," Alyssa nodded to Watson with respect, "Perhaps, you might have a chance against him. And if you are successful, you'll not only be saving everyone still here, you'll also be avenging those who were forced moved on."
"That's assuming I have a chance," Juliet muttered grimly, "You've been around the block, you know what that bastard is capable of. He's got the principal wrapped around his pinky, and the second he suspects me of doing something, is the second I'm done for."
"Then, perhaps it must not be you that he sees first."
Juliet pinched her brows in confusion, "What does that mean?"
"You'll figure it out in time," the book was opened, and Alyssa adjusted her spot on the bench to become more lax, "If I were you, I'd start making moves. Inaction is the precursor to failure."
"Wait a minute, hold on!" Juliet found herself nudged off the bench, "You can't just brush me off after all that!"
"I believe I just did," Anderson grinned mischievously, "Go on now, reporter. There are lives at stake."
"Oh come on—can't you at least join me?" Juliet practically begged, "You obviously got a bone to pick with Prescott, maybe we can work together, maybe we can avenge Megan—don't you wish for that chance?"
"Down to Gehenna, or up to the Throne," Alyssa warned, "He travels the fastest, who travels alone. You do not need me, reporter. I cannot help you any more than you can help yourself. Now, go."
Juliet reluctantly leaves. She is dismayed at the lack of interest that Alyssa shows, but knows that these words are the truth. Already, a plan begins to take shape as she steps back into the dorm building, and pulls out her phone to message those she needs.
A buzz sounds from her desk. A hand swipes the phone, checking it.
Warren – Hey, Kate and I are going to follow up on our lead from the Two Whales, figured I'd let you and Dana know. Ttyl :D
Juliet types a quick thanks, then checks the other group chat she's in. In it, there were three people: herself, along with Justin and Trevor. This group chat had only one message in it so far—
Juliet – Hey, I need your guys' help with something, when/where can we meet up?
No responses yet. She sets her phone down and waits.
And waits. And waits some more.
I'm getting nowhere at this rate.
A hand brushes through her locks of bronze hair, and she sighs. Her stomach rumbles, and she realizes she's not eaten since lunchtime. Her favorite comfort food from the vending machine comes to mind, and she figures it better than heading into the cafeteria at such a late hour. With a couple dollars in hand, she exits her room and heads down to the first floor where the vending machine is placed—
—and happens upon the Queen of Blackwell, who was also acquiring her preferred choice of snack. The bag of chips crinkled in her grip, for the Queen jumped in surprise at the sudden intrusion.
"Jesus—!"
"Ah, sorry," Juliet raised her hands defensively, "didn't mean to scare you, Victoria."
Victoria Chase huffed in silent frustration, "You better be."
The royal blonde steps aside, and lets Juliet pay for her choice of snack. The reporter catches the Queen about to leave the lounge and head back to her room, and takes her chance—
"So, how's life treating you?"
Emerald green eyes glare back at her, "…what the hell do you want?"
"I want to know if you've seen what your boyfriend is capable of," Watson inquired, a touch of smugness in her tone as she turns to the blonde, "Unless you've been hiding in your room for the better half of today."
"I know that you were trying to incite a riot in the front quad, but nothing much besides that," Chase snidely commented, "What were you thinking, by the way? That Nathan would just let you slander him like that? You ought to know better than that, Watson. Although, maybe you've lost your touch, since you should also know that Nathan and I are not seeing each other."
"Those parties he hosts tell a very different story, you know."
A royal eyebrow is raised, "What of them?"
"I've seen a thing or two," the reporter pointedly noted, "It may have been a long time since I've been behind the VIP curtains, but I can imagine you and Nathan haven't changed your patterns. A couple sodas to start, then a few with a bit of kick in them—then a quiet trip into the storage room, a lotta' macking on each other, maybe a five minute quickie if you're both in the mood."
The Queen, despite her cold exterior, was marred with blush on her cheeks. It seems that Juliet's assumptions were correct, "I don't get why you hide it, Victoria. Everyone already sees you as Nathan's bejeweled princess, there's no shame in admitting it."
"You know why I cannot."
"I do?"
"Yes, you do," Chase snarked, "assuming you still have some sense in you left. I knew that your exclusion from the Vortex Club would bring some trifles between us, but really? Nathan and I, together?"
"I figured you wanted me to talk about something else, instead of that," the reporter dangerously hinted. The Queen bristled at the suggestion, crossing her arms and standing proudly against the reporter's words.
"I don't have to explain myself to you," Victoria snipped, "You know what you did was wrong. You know why I did what I had to."
"Because you can't afford to take sides against him—"
"Because you pinned it on us!" Chase growled over the reporter, "You pointed the finger at all of us, and were more-than-happy to absolve yourself of accountability! The worst part was, some of us weren't even there when the party happened. I didn't even know Rachel was going to be there, and yet, you were so quick to blame the rest of us for being close to Nathan, as if that was crime enough! The amount of legal bullshit you put us through, claiming we had something to do with her disappearance, only to be proven wrong!"
Juliet frowned, "Then whose fault was it, hm? Mine? Was it my fault that Nathan's parties don't have safety precautions, or did he think his money was good enough to avoid the lawsuit from the District Attorney about his missing daughter?"
"This is why you only got so far, Watson," Victoria deflected, "You're too damn headstrong. Too full of yourself. Your friend, Dana, was probably the only one who could pull you back every time you went off on your little escapades, thinking you, alone, can uncover the truth. Here's the breaking news: you can't. Even a fool knows better than to never second-guess themselves…"
"…I was thinking of being merciful to you and letting you into the VIP section this time around, but after the stunt you pulled on Nathan, I'm glad I decided otherwise. You want to be with the rest of Blackwell, then you may—but do not be surprised when you cannot cross bridges that you've burned."
"I never had the torch in my hand to begin with," Watson bitterly retorted, "So, go ahead. But I'm warning you, Victoria—there is something dangerous happening with Nathan, and if you won't let me expose it, then be prepared to do so yourself."
"Again, what the hell are you talking about?" the Queen barbed, frustrated at the insistence.
"Nathan didn't tell you about the brass knuckles, did he?"
"Brass knuckles?" she scoffed, disbelieving. But there was something in her tone, something dreadful, and Juliet picked up on that dread and seized it with her words, "Yes, brass knuckles. When he confronted me out there, he had brass knuckles on his fists. He wanted to hurt me, and he tried to…"
"…but Dana stopped him," Watson remembered, "She took the punches for me. And now she's stuck in the infirmary, and I've been given the ultimatum by Nathan's lapdog, Principal Wells, to never give another story talking about what happened, lest I get kicked out. Nathan can tell you all about the kind words he said to me when I left the principal's office, since he was there when it happened."
Victoria said nothing. There was a distrusting frown etched upon her face, her posture gestured that Juliet should leave. Watson recognized it, and did just that. She was halfway through the threshold of the exit when she gave one last word, "Congrats, Vic. You've won. I hope you're happy."
The door closed behind her. The frown remained on Victoria's face, even when she was alone.
Stella – so, whats up.
Juliet – I need my name on the VIP section for thursday's party. Can you get me in?
Stella – look, u know i cant just give you access. Guards patrol the computer lab during afterhours, theyll trace it back to me if they know who was in there.
A pause. She checks her wallet once, then begins typing.
Juliet - $100. 50 up front, 50 after.
Another pause. Stella would type, then stop, then start typing again. Watson's heart was beating anxiously in her chest, her hands shivering nervously at the inevitable reply.
Stella – 150. 80 up front, 70 after. take it or leave it.
She ground at her teeth. Hissed in figurative agony. It was going to be difficult to explain to her parents how she blew through so much money so quickly, but she'd cross that road when she reached it.
Juliet – Fine. Name a time and place, I'll be there.
She doesn't bother checking for Stella's reply, she only needed to make sure the girl would follow through. Instead, she checks the message she sent to Kate—
Juliet – Hey, let me know when you and Warren get back to Blackwell, I think we might have a new lead on Rachel.
No response. As she ponders why Kate's not answering, a peal of thunder sounds overhead. Nighttime surrounds the meetup location that she, Justin, and Trevor agreed upon. They might have to choose someplace other than the corridor between the girls' dorms and Blackwell Main, but for now it seems to be their best choice.
And thoughts come to Juliet about her plan of action. Already she had thought of some means to get under the figurative shield wall that was the Prescott heir. She thought it long, and constant—and found very few opportunities. But, like every human that has ever tread upon the Earth, there was always an imperfection, some slight weakness to exploit.
Nathan had to be at the parties he hosts. Whether for the sake of his vain-glory, or for reasons not yet explained to her, he would not miss this coming party. The same goes for his cronies, along with Victoria and everyone in the Vortex Club. By that same measure, there should be nobody except the few uninvited commoners left in the boys' dorms once the party kicks off. Nobody that would speak about a potential break-in to Nathan's dorm. Nobody to object to someone carrying off any juicy evidence that might be inside the room. The best part: the culprits would not even have to travel far to get away with it; last Juliet remembered, Justin and Trevor were next-door neighbors on the second floor of the boys' dorms, and Nathan's room was on the first floor. From there, it was just a matter of finding decent hiding spots once they passed what they got to her, and then it was onto the nearest police station not corrupted by Prescott money.
But, she would not endanger the lives of her friends so easily. She owed it to Dana, and swore a silent oath; from whichever path she chose, she would follow through to the end, and would dare to forfeit her own life for the sake of justice. There came memories of her father, crushed by political pressures she couldn't imagine, sulking in his study in the late hours of the night. Mountains of evidence to stories that could not see the light of day, moments begging, pleading for some wayfaring messenger to cradle them with gentle hands and carry them forward, from the darkness of obscurity into the light. How she remembered the troubled wrinkles of his brow, and his knowing smile, of the soft platitudes he whispered to her to ease her concerns for his wellbeing.
One day, you will uncover the truth, his voice called, and it will cost you everything. But to the true journalist, the truth is worth the life which carries it.
The truth is worth even the heaviest price. For truth is not bought nor sold—it is not bartered nor discounted; it is what is! No quivering tyrant perched upon his ivory pedestal can impede the truth, even if it carries his death sentence! No thief nor lawyer can absolve himself of truth's bitter judgement! No man nor woman is left unburdened by the weight of their petty actions and ill-spoken words; for every slight made against the truth, a weight be chained to their hearts, until such weight crushes them with righteous guilt—and so be it!
Let he with truth bound to his word be weightless like a feather, swept with joy and borne of light, that his soul should journey once more heaven-bound. And let he with treachery laid rotten upon his tongue be judged for his sins, and be burdened not with the mere condemnation of his fellow men, but by the betrayal of his very soul, God-fearing and starved of honor!
She would get access into the party, and make sure that Nathan was where he ought to be. She was not sure if she wanted to confront him yet, but she needed to keep Prescott in place while her teammates made their move. Perhaps, she would need only to give him an excuse so that he would do all the damage to his reputation, even if it meant receiving a black eye and a busted lip.
Two figures, clad in hoodies and loose jeans, approach from the direction of the boys' dorms. She identifies them immediately, and eases her nervous posture. She nods once, and they reciprocate.
"What's good, Doc?"
"I've got a plan. I need your guys' help for it to work."
"Does it got anything to do with avenging Dana?" Trevor bluntly asked. There was a flame in his eyes, subtle yet intense. Justin was more the same, "Yeah, c'mon, tell me it's got us hitting Prescott right where it hurts."
She smiles, "More or less."
Their conversation is brief, yet conclusive. They part ways as the storm clouds roll in, and lightning splits the sky with bellowing cracks of thunder.