This chapter beta'd by Undead Robot and broughtfromxp. Thanks, guys.

Tango: Interlude 1

Melanie Fitts was an observant person. She had to be, in her line of work.

Students were loitering outside the school, trickling into buses and cars. Girls chatted and hung off of boys; boys pushed each other around and laughed. A normal scene, one being mirrored across the entire city at this very moment.

Melanie could see past the veneer.

She saw the telltale signs of gang presence, painted brightly in red and black and green. It was evident in the way certain groups clustered, how one student adjusted her jeans and a glint of steel flashed momentarily. She saw the hard drug users, gaunt in appearance or jumpy in demeanor, surrounded by people who wanted what they had. A girl walked apart from the crowd, and Melanie noted how her stomach bulged ever so slightly with the first hints of a teenage pregnancy. She felt a pang of sympathy, but turned away.

Winslow was that kind of school. Everyone knew it.

She wasn't here to scope out the gangs, though. She had a more mundane task: she needed to ask a few questions, and check out a few things. She opened the car door, got out, shut it, locked it. No big loss if some wannabe gangster stole it: it was a junker, one of her spare vehicles. Brushing off her pants, and pulling out a pad of paper and a pencil, she picked out a target.

"Excuse me, may I have a moment?"

The teen, a blond boy of small stature who probably would be a target of Empire recruitment someday, turned to see who had spoken. "Sure, what's up?"

"Do you know anything about a girl named Taylor Hebert?"

The boy smiled. "Of course I know Taylor! How can I help?"

"I'm sorry, Ms. Noel, but I can't just hand over sensitive documents."

Melanie had banged her head against this wall enough times to know two things. One: Miss Blackwell wasn't going to budge. Two: The woman had to be hiding something. She wasn't being paid enough to care this much, that much was sure; her clothing was professional, but nowhere near the quality Blackwell's earrings and nails suggested she craved.

Melanie was playing the part of an aide to the Superintendent, here for files related to the four girls allegedly involved in the incident of January 3rd. A flustered aide, one who had accidentally left the proper forms at home. A simple disguise, and one that would easily be overturned if they made a call, but she hadn't expected this much resistance.

It was time to go.

"I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Principal Blackwell. I'll go fetch the paperwork, and come back. What are your office hours?"

She frowned. "We're open till six, but I have a busy schedule this afternoon. It would be best for you to come back another day."

Melanie nodded, stood, and thanked her for her time. Blackwell led her out of the office, and she left in the direction of the nearest door. Once she was out of sight, Melanie scowled.

Damn. She'd hoped to do things with at least a semblance of legality, especially considering her employer. It made things more difficult when you couldn't say exactly how you'd acquired evidence, even if the plan had involved impersonating a government employee. Still, Melanie had other ways of acquiring information; she just had to wait.

Winslow really was a dump. She'd expected security cameras to avoid, guards patrolling the halls to keep vandals out, or at the very least an alarm system to be careful around. Instead, she found a few busted camera domes, a single guard who had apparently fallen asleep, and an alarm system that had been systematically dismantled by gang members until the only doors left were the ones with nothing interesting behind them.

She hadn't even had to hide, really. It was a matter of waiting in the bathroom until everyone left.

First, the files. Breaking into the office took her a minute; she was unused to her lock picking set. It had been several months since she'd really needed such a discreet way of entering a locked room. The filing cabinets were massive, but fortunately well-sorted. She got down to business.

Emma Barnes; Madison Clements; Taylor Hebert; Sophia Hess. Hess' file was a thick as the other three combined, which made her raise an eyebrow. Still, it wasn't her job to read these, just to copy them. She pulled a pocket scanner out of her bag, and set it up. Sitting down at the desk, she started feeding papers with one hand, and searching through drawers with the other. She found what she was looking for: a string of numbers and letters, handwritten on a piece of paper. The password to the administrative computer system.

She removed a staple, then went back to feeding with her left hand, typing with the other. A moment later, she reached for her bag with the right hand, dug around in it a bit. A flash drive was produced, plugged in, and some files were copied over shortly thereafter.

Things would be so much easier if she had her team with her, but that would have drawn attention. One had to be discreet on some jobs, especially ones where your employer was a superhero and a lawyer.

She sighed as she was forced to remove yet another staple. It was going to be a long night.

She brushed her hair quickly, wanting to look professional. A bit of touch-ups on her makeup, one last bite of a protein bar to take the edge off her hunger in case the meeting went long, and she made her way inside.

It really was strange, working for Carol Dallon. The woman was a bit silly, to her. A hero, one she knew had a black-and-white mentality, was also openly a lawyer, someone who often dealt with gray areas. Case in point, her current employment. Melanie knew her name would have been known to only a few others in town as anything beyond a simple bar owner, and many of those who knew she took other work… weren't asking for Melanie, per se.

She knocked on the door.

"One moment," the lawyer's voice came from inside. She heard papers being pushed around, a drawer being opened. She adjusted her bag while she waited. Finally, the door opened, and there stood Carol Dallon.

"Ah, Miss Fitts. Please, come in," she said, holding the door open wide. Melanie made her way to a chair inside, and Carol locked the door behind her.

Melanie dug in her bag while Carol came back to the desk. Finding what she wanted, she pulled out the USB drive, and set it on the table.

Carol glanced at it as she sat down, then motioned for her to explain.

"Interviews, files, and other evidence. Some may be inadmissible, but there's enough there to get you started." Melanie paused as the lawyer quietly slid the flash drive across the desk, plugging it into her computer. "I'll be collecting more, as per our agreement, but I figured I should drop this off."

Carol's eyebrow rose after a few clicks. "This… How did you get these files?" she asked.

"No comment," Melanie replied.

Carol frowned. "Ms. Fitts, I would ask that in future, you stick to legal, or at the very least, morally correct methods of information gathering. I appreciate the effort you had to put in for these, but I cannot count these as evidence towards either a criminal or civil suit."

Melanie nodded. She should have expected as much; sometimes, you needed to compromise your methods for moral reasons, and she had failed to consider the consequences of not doing so in this situation. "I'll accept reduced pay for the information, and strive to do better in the future, Mrs. Dallon."

"That won't be necessary. If the information provided is as good as it seems to be, I may just drop some anonymous tips with the police, get a complimentary criminal case going. Hmm…" She clicked, opening another file. "Yes, this is a good start."

She read a bit more, then turned away from the screen, a frown returning to her face as she looked across the desk to Melanie. "Again, I must stress that I need hard, legally obtained evidence. As useful as 'leaked' documents can be for a case, they are not admissible. I was told you were one of the best for this kind of investigative work, and I expect better results next time."

Melanie accepted the rebuke. "Of course," she said, rising from her chair.

She stood, offering a hand. "Then I look forward to our continued cooperation."

A/N: One year. More than a year, for my readers. It's been far too long.

I don't really know what made it so hard for me to write last June. It wasn't a bad time in my life, so far as I know. I was (and am) still interested in Worm, and had plans set out for a fourth story. I just...stopped. No real updates, no communication.

I'm sorry.

I'm not going to make any promises; history has shown that an update schedule is not going to work. But I do hope to bring all of my work back, post when I can, and stick to a standard of quality that you deserve while I do so.

If you want to help that happen, or just find yourself willing to do light editing in exchange for spoilers, discussion, and memes, I have three beta positions open over on Spacebattles. Pm me for details.