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Parahumans Series - Wildbow

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Taylor/BrianAmy Dallon | Panacea | Red Queen/Lily | Flechette | FoilEidolon/OC

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Published:2024-11-28Completed:2024-11-28Words:151,707Chapters:20/20Comments:70Kudos:361Bookmarks:192Hits:14,065

It Gets Worse

Ack13

Summary:

When Taylor Hebert ends up with the power of extreme luck, things are going to get bizarre in Brockton Bay ...

Chapter 1: Introduction

Summary:

Jan 3-10 2011

Chapter Text

January 3, 2011

Taylor huddled, shivering, holding the blanket around her shoulders. Nearby, the janitor was talking animatedly to a pair of police officers, but she wasn't really listening.

"- dunno how long she was in there. She was just lucky that I was going that way and heard her calling out -"

"Miss, can you hear me?" It was the same paramedic who had given her the blanket. "Miss?"

"Uh?" She jerked her head up. "Yeah? W-what?"

"Miss, can you tell me your name?"

Taylor twitched, pulling the blanket more tightly around herself. "T-taylor. Taylor He-hebert."

"Taylor Hebert. Is that correct?"

"Y-yeah. Why am I sh-shivering? Not cold."

The paramedic's voice was warm, soothing. "You've just been through a very traumatic experience, Taylor. You're in shock right now. This is perfectly natural. You'll get through it. Now, can you look into this light for me?"

She didn't protest as the woman shone the tiny flashlight first into one eye and then the other; it seemed easier just to let her do it.

"Okay then, that's excellent. Pupil response is normal. Taylor, can you tell me today's date?"

Taylor blinked. "Uh, January. January third. Two thousand eleven. First day of school."

"Good, good. And where are you?"

"Sitting in the back of an ambulance." The response came out without her even thinking about it. "Outside Winslow High School."

"Well, you're tracking just fine, Taylor." The paramedic nodded to herself in satisfaction. "Do you feel up to talking to the police?"

Taylor twitched again. "Uh, can I have my Dad with me?" She looked down at the horrible stains on her jeans and sneakers – the things that had been sharing the locker with her had been scrubbed away, but the marks remained – and added, "And can I have a shower too?"

The paramedic smiled, looking rather motherly. "I think that can be arranged, yes."

<><>

Showered, dried and dressed, head to toe in fresh clothing, Taylor felt much more human. More able to face the world. She guessed that she was still in shock; occasionally she shivered and her hands twitched once in a while. There were clean white dressings on them, where she had beaten them bloody on the interior of the locker. A kindly policewoman had replaced the dressings after the shower.

Now she sat beside her father, facing another police officer. The man's uniform was neat, tidy, almost painfully so. He had a notebook, in which he wrote down what Taylor was telling him. It was no great hardship for him to keep up with her; she kept stumbling, losing track, going back over what had already been said, but he showed no impatience, no irritation. She got the impression that his entire life's purpose was to sit in this room and listen to what she had to say.

"Well then," he stated, after she had mumbled herself to a halt. "We will be investigating matters. The fact that you can't state with certainty who shoved you into the locker is unfortunate, but the fact remains that a crime has been committed and we will be looking into it."

He stood; Taylor's father took the hint and followed suit. Taylor realised what was going on a few seconds later and stood up as well. "So what happens now?" she asked, surprising herself with her boldness.

"Well, if I were you," suggested the officer, "I'd take a week off school. Rest, relax, recuperate. You've had a huge shock to the system. You don't need to be going back into that environment for a little while yet."

Danny nodded. "I think that's a damn good idea. I'll let the school know, just after I give them a piece of my mind for letting this happen to Taylor in the first place."

"That's your business, sir," the police officer told him. "If we have any more questions to ask your daughter, we'll be in touch."

"Sure," Danny agreed. "I'm just surprised that there's going to be an investigation at all. I mean, I know how overworked you guys are and this sort of thing has to be small potatoes compared to your normal run of things."

"Normally we wouldn't," agreed the officer, opening the office door. "But as luck would have it, one of our major cases fell through this morning and your case popped at just the right time. Besides, I've got a girl about your daughter's age and I'd hate to have something like that happen to her."

"Well, however it works, I hope you catch those little shits." Danny held out his hand.

"That's what we're here for." The officer shook it. "You go get better, miss."

"Thank you." Taylor turned and walked from the police station with her father beside her.

"Well, that went better than I expected," he commented as he led the way to the car. "What do you want to do now?"

"I want to go home," she told him firmly. "And have about three more showers. I can still feel those bugs on my skin."

"Home it is," he agreed.

<><>

January 10, 2011

"Holy shit. I don't believe it."

"What?" Madison looked around at Emma's startled exclamation. Her eyes widened. "Crap, I don't either. She's back."

"Who's back?" Sophia looked up from the drinking fountain. Taller than most, she scanned the crowd in the direction that the other two were looking. It only took a few seconds. "Well, shit. She obviously didn't get the message the first time."

"What do we do about it?" Madison looked at the two of them.

Emma frowned. "You gotta admit, that's pretty ballsy of her, coming back so soon after, uh, after what happened."

"Yeah," chimed in Madison. "It was terrible, wasn't it?"

Puzzled for just a moment, Sophia looked around to see one of the new substitute teachers loitering nearby. Mr Grant wasn't a bad teacher, but he seemed unusually interested in what the students had to say. Sophia had pegged him as an undercover cop on about the second day, so the three girls had become a little more discreet about what they discussed and where they discussed it.

Turning, she looked pointedly at him; after a few seconds, he moved off, apparently finding business elsewhere. Smiling slightly, Sophia turned back to Emma. "So, shall we organise a welcome back party for her?"

"Nothing too blatant," Emma cautioned her. "Might be more of them around."

"Oh, please," Sophia retorted. "Like they could catch me on their best day."

"So what do we do?" asked Madison again.

Sophia smiled slowly, her teeth very white. "We let everyone know that it's business as usual, of course."

<><>

Taylor ducked; the dodge-ball went flying over her head as she moved on. Behind her, she heard a muffled cry of pain and looked around; Julia, a friend of Madison's, was on the ground, blood flowing freely from her nose. I didn't even know she was there.

Turning away, she saw the ball coming straight at her once more and recognised the thrower as one of Emma's friends. She moved aside just in time for it to whistle past her shoulder. That would've left a bruise.

A grunt of pain and a solid thud made her look over her shoulder. Two girls had collided and fallen together. One of them was Sophia Hess; from the way she was holding her ribs, she must have taken a hit there.

Shit, they've really got it in for me. She saw the ball bounce into the hands of Emma's friend again and moved behind someone else. Sure enough, the girl held the throw, looking for a clear shot. Taylor kept moving, stepping behind people and the girl kept waiting, until Mr Sorensen yelled at her to just throw the damn ball, already! So then she threw it, without nearly as much force as before, at someone else.

<><>

Taylor ducked her head under the shower stream and ran water through her hair. They're not going to let up. It was a dismal certainty. Although it had been a good gym class; she had no bruises from the dodge-ball this time around. That was a rare enough event that she considered it reason for minor celebration. They'll get me some other way.

A thud and a grunt of pain made her turn around. She couldn't see that well without her glasses, but it looked like someone was lying on the floor just outside the shower. Turning off the water, she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself. Stepping into the outer part of the cubicle, she looked down at the supine girl. Upon closer investigation, she realised that it was Sophia, holding a bunch of familiar-looking clothing. Above her, where Taylor's clothes should have been hanging on a hook, there was nothing. A piece of soap, lying nearby, appeared to be the architect of Sophia's downfall. I wondered where that got to.

"Hey, that's my stuff!" Taylor reached down and grabbed her clothes from Sophia; the other girl tried half-heartedly to hang on to them, but seemed to be in some amount of pain from her ribs. Hanging the clothes back on the hook, Taylor dried herself hurriedly – her hair would be damp, but that was no big deal – and got dressed before Sophia could do more than sit up. Under her were Taylor's sneakers; Sophia seemed to have landed on them, which couldn't have done her bruised ribs – or ego – any good.

Hurrying away, she worried over the incident as she went to hang her towel up. It was just a lucky break that she stepped on the soap. She'll be after me now ... and today was going so well, too.

<><>

"So, can anyone tell me what precipitated the downfall of the Namibian government? Anyone?"

Taylor raised her hand to answer Mr Gladly's question, while glancing around to keep an eye on Madison. The petite brunette was glaring daggers at her, thanks to the empty desk next to Madison, which was usually occupied by her friend Julia. Taylor had a good idea why – the dodge-ball must have hit her pretty hard. She's probably still in the infirmary – but she wasn't sure why Madison seemed to be blaming her for it. She probably thinks I shouldn't have ducked.

"Yes, Taylor?"

She turned back to the front; Mr Gladly was looking directly at her. "Uh, yes. That was due mainly to Moord Nag, wasn't it? The government was corrupt and wasn't protecting the people, so she came in and killed the militias that were oppressing them. After that, the people decided to support her instead of the government."

"Very good, Taylor. I see that you weren't idle while you were away." He beamed at her; she wanted to scowl back at him. He has to know why I've been 'away'; I still can't sleep with the light off and Dad's got to spray the bedroom for bugs on a daily basis. But at least I'm not waking up screaming any more.

And then Madison put her hand up; he turned to her. "Yes, Madison?"

"Uh, Mr G, can I go sharpen my pencil at the trash can? It broke."

Taylor was immediately suspicious – Madison always took the opportunity to pass by her desk and cause problems when she went to the trash can – but there wasn't much she could do about it.

She was right, of course; when Madison came past, she went to grab Taylor's books and pull them to the floor, but Taylor locked her arms down on them and glared at her. Undaunted, Madison smiled angelically and continued on to the trash can in the corner of the room.

Mr Gladly, as always, totally missed the byplay. "Okay, class, turn to page one hundred and five. I want you to read through the examples given of regime changes due to parahuman interference over the last ten years. Pay particular attention to those in Africa and see if you can't spot any common factors."

As Taylor complied, she saw Madison making her way back down the row of desks. There was a secret smile on her face that boded no good for Taylor. What's she going to do?

And then, at the desk ahead of Taylor's, the boy sitting there moved his elbow and his pencil fell on the floor. He didn't seem to notice and nor did Madison; her heel came down on it, it rolled and her foot flew out from underneath her. With a startled shriek, she landed on her butt, with what looked like brown snow drifting down around and on top of her.

Shavings, Taylor realised. She saved all the shavings and she was going to dump them on me.

"Madison, are you all right?" Mr Gladly came down the row of desks, but she was already getting to her feet.

"Mr G, Taylor tripped me!" Madison's finger was out straight, accusing.

"What? No!" Taylor pointed at the pencil, still on the floor. "John's pencil fell off his desk. Madison stepped on it."

Bending down, Mr Gladly picked up the pencil and examined it. "John, is this yours?"

Turning, the boy looked at it. "Uh, yeah, Mr G. Sorry about that. Sorry, Mads."

"Be more careful next time." Mr Gladly handed the pencil back to him. "Madison, I don't think Taylor tripped you. Just go back to your desk, all right? And clean yourself off."

Visibly fuming, Madison stomped past Taylor, brushing pencil shavings off of herself. Not even she would do something obvious while Mr Gladly was standing right there, but in no way did Taylor think she was going to give up.

I am so dead.

<><>

"Got the water balloons?" Madison's smile was more than a little anticipatory.

"Right here." Emma carefully lifted the cardboard box from her backpack; she'd padded it with wadded-up plastic bags for this purpose. From within, she handed out the gurgling rubber sacs of watery doom. There were two for each of them; even assuming each of them missed with one, the other three balloons would be sufficient to soak Taylor to the skin.

"Excellent." Sophia weighed hers in her hand. She'd been waiting all day to repay Hebert for the humiliation in gym class. This would do perfectly.

"So where is she?" asked Emma.

"Went upstairs a little while ago," Madison reported. "Maybe to the bathrooms?"

"Good." Sophia started up the stairs. "Maybe we can catch her in one of the stalls."

"No, wait, here she comes now. Quick, get out of sight!"

Emma's mistake was tugging on Sophia's sleeve. In doing so, she lost her grip on one of the water balloons; it slipped from her hand and splattered on the steps, spraying water far and wide. Sophia, in the process of turning, stepped into the puddle. Losing all grip on the step, her foot shot out to the side and she fell. As it happened, this was on top of Emma and Madison.

"Look out!"

"Argh!"

"Fuck!"

They went down in a tangle of flailing limbs. Flailing limbs which released water balloons upward, to fly in short arcs and then come down again. Five soggy splats sounded, one after the other.

Taylor came trotting down the steps; as she reached the landing above, she peered curiously at the scene below. Sophia was lying atop Emma, with Madison squashed beneath the two of them. All three were soaked from head to toe and brightly coloured rags of rubber were lying around them.

Edging around them, she spared them one last look, then headed off down the corridor.

Clambering out from under Sophia, Emma sat up, a distinctly disgruntled look on her face. "We have got to do better than this."

"Well, don't look at me," snapped Sophia. "You're the one who dropped your water balloon."

As the other two argued, all Madison could do was try to remember how to breathe.

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Archive of Our Own betaArchive of Our OwnLog In

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Actions

Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Comments Share Download

Work Header

Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

Categories:

F/MF/F

Fandom:

Parahumans Series - Wildbow

Relationships:

Taylor/BrianAmy Dallon | Panacea | Red Queen/Lily | Flechette | FoilEidolon/OC

Characters:

Language:

English

Stats:

Published:2024-11-28Completed:2024-11-28Words:151,707Chapters:20/20Comments:70Kudos:361Bookmarks:192Hits:14,065

It Gets Worse

Ack13

Chapter 2: Rebound

Summary:

Jan 10-11 2011

Chapter Text

I got off the bus and hefted my backpack. Even now, the memory of Emma, Sophia and Madison, piled at the bottom of the stairs, made me giggle spontaneously when I thought of it. I thought I might have an idea how that had happened; they'd obviously brought the water balloons to school in order to ambush me with them, but one of the balloons had maybe leaked, making a puddle on the stairs. And Sophia stepped on the soap earlier, so there was probably still some on her shoe.

However it had happened, it had been a very satisfying scene to come upon. They hadn't bothered me for the rest of the day. In fact, I hadn't seen them for the rest of the day. Being humiliated like that must kind of burn. Gee, I wouldn't know about that at all.

Strolling along the pavement with the pack slung over her shoulder, I felt unaccountably light-hearted for the first time in … months. I still hadn't totally recovered from the ordeal in the locker, but the money that Dad had squeezed out of the school would probably go toward therapy. Truth be told, I didn't know how I was going to deal with some stranger asking me probing questions about things I really didn't want to think about, but I guessed that it was probably a good idea. I don't want to end up with PTSD.

But today had been a good day, the ominous beginnings notwithstanding. Maybe I'm learning to dance between the raindrops. For sure, they'd tried, but they hadn't been able to tag me even once, not in gym class or after – though I had an errant bar of soap to thank for Sophia's downfall – not in World Affairs and not at the stairs. My mind slid irresistibly back to the look on Emma's face when I had descended the stairs and edged around them. That expression of total aggravation and humiliation had been so worth it. I just wish I'd had a camera.

Still giggling, I opened the chain-link gate and let myself into the back yard. The back door opened to my key and I strolled into the house.

"Afternoon, Taylor." Dad was sitting on the sofa.

Okay, I hadn't expected that.

<><>

"Um, Dad, why are you home so early?"

"Because I was worried about you." We sat across the kitchen table from each other. I'd fixed myself a ham sandwich. He was just sitting there.

"Oh. Well, I'm fine. Today was actually pretty good, to be honest." I took a bite from my sandwich.

"So nobody picked on you?"

For a split second, I considered telling him the unvarnished truth – they tried, but they just couldn't get it right. Oh, by the way, my ex best friend Emma is leading the pack – but I chickened out. Dad didn't need this sort of hassle; if he came home early every day because he was worrying about me, he might lose his position with the Dockworkers' Association.

"Seriously, Dad. I'm fine. Nothing happened. Nobody shoved me, called me names, picked on me or anything. Heck, I didn't even get hit playing dodge-ball." Though they surely tried.

"Oh." He looked obscurely disappointed, as though he'd wanted to be able to justify leaving work early. "So, no problems at all?"

"None. I promise." I reached across the table, captured his hand. "I'm fine. You worry about getting jobs for the dock workers."

Finally, he smiled and squeezed my hand. "Okay, kiddo. You win. But if there's a problem, let me know, okay?"

"Sure." I knew I was lying through my teeth. Even if I'd had problems, I wouldn't have admitted to them; Dad needed to be able to concentrate fully on his job. And even if today was just a fluke, it was a welcome fluke and I'd take it. That one good day was worth a lot of aggravation.

And what the hell, I might have another one soon.

<><>

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

"Okay, so shit happened. We move along. Taylor got lucky, but it's not gonna happen again. We're gonna show her who's boss." Sophia looked between Emma and Madison, her expression hard, as if challenging them to contradict her.

"Okay, so what do we do?" Emma looked unsure; Sophia wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled, to tell her you're tough, dammit, show a bit of spine! But she didn't. It was up to Emma to prove her toughness.

"The bathrooms." Madison's voice was bright. She still winced a little when she moved – her bruises had to be even more spectacular than Sophia's – but her heart was definitely in this.

"What about the bathrooms?" Sophia made her voice harsh.

It didn't seem to faze the petite brunette. "She'll be there again today. She goes there nearly every lunchtime. Third floor. You know, the one where the stall doors open outward."

"So what?" But Emma was looking interested now.

"So one of us holds the door shut, while the other two drop stuff on her from either side." Madison's voice held a do I have to explain everything? note, but Emma didn't mind. "Soda, pudding, juice. No witnesses, no way for her to get away from us."

"She might go to Blackwell." Sophia didn't really think this would happen, but she was throwing it out there to see what the others thought.

"What if she does?" Emma snorted. "She didn't get a good look at us last Monday, so even if she says anything, all we have to do is alibi out. Arrange it ahead of time and they'll never pin it on us. What the cops don't see, they can't prove."

"All right then." Sophia gave Madison an approving nod. "We'll do it."

"One more thing." Emma's voice held a note of caution.

"Yeah?" Sophia turned to look at her.

"We don't do anything till then. Make her think we're leaving her alone."

Madison nodded. "Yeah. Good idea."

<><>

I had to admit to a certain amount of wariness; as welcome as the lucky breaks had been for me on Monday, they couldn't last. But maybe they won't have to. Maybe I can get through this on my own.

It even seemed to be working. Math class had dragged on, certainly, but nobody from Emma's coterie had done anything to mess up my day. Next had been World Affairs, with Madison and Julia. The latter had a gorgeous black eye, albeit mostly concealed with makeup, along with a bandage across the bridge of her nose. I hadn't spoken to them, or even looked at them if I could help it. Madison hadn't tried any pranks, although she and Julia had given me the occasional poisonous glare when Mr Gladly's back was turned.

The third class of the day was Computers, which I shared with none of the regular bullies. I was good with computers, so I could settle down and think things through logically, while doing the work at the same time.

I wasn't quite sure how to process the situation; were they giving up? They had eased off once before, just prior to the Christmas break, which had culminated in the locker incident. But that had gotten the school some very unwelcome attention from the police; had this scared them off?

Part of me wanted to think that their run of bad luck might turn them off bullying me, but I didn't think so. They'd been getting away with it for more than a year. It was probably habit for them.

But yesterday had proven something to me as well; they weren't infallible. They could lose. Given just a little luck and perhaps some forethought, I might just be able to sidestep further attempts. Or at least force them out into the open enough that the teachers and staff were forced to pay attention.

At least, that was the general plan.

<><>

Habits cut both ways. Emma and her friends had 'torment Taylor' down to a fine art, whereas I had been eating my lunch away from the cafeteria – far too many opportunities for spilled food, spilled drinks, trips, shoves, pinches and other indignities and humiliations, thank you very much – for quite some time.

I didn't eat in the same place every time, for fear that they'd find out and stake the place out, but one of my favoured locations was the upstairs girls' bathroom. Lock myself in a cubicle, eat my lunch, read a book, do some homework, go back down to class. No muss, no fuss, no bother.

I didn't realise that they knew about this ploy until, well, they showed up.

The first I knew of it was when I was sitting on the toilet seat, halfway through my pita wrap, when the door of the bathroom banged open. I froze. I didn't want to rustle the bag and clue anyone into what I was doing, so I kept still and listened. There was a knock on the door, making me jump. I ignored it, but the person on the other side just repeated the knock.

"Occupied," I called out, hesitantly.

In response, I heard muffled giggling and whispering; most of the words were too soft for me to hear, but I thought I heard my name. And I definitely recognised the voices. Emma. Sophia. Madison. Shit, they found me.

This was most definitely not a good thing.

<><>

I stood up abruptly, letting the brown bag with the last mouthful of my lunch fall to the tiled floor. Rushing for the door, I popped the lock open and pushed. The door didn't budge.

As I pushed harder, I heard noises from the stalls on either side of me. What are they doing? I gathered myself to push even harder and then I heard a crash and a clatter from both sides, interspersed with startled shrieks. Overhead, a bottle of juice – I smelled cranberries – arced over the stall, the globules spilling from the neck just missing me as it vanished from my sight beyond the door. I heard the hollow plastic clatter as it struck the tiled floor while I heaved once more at the cubicle door.

From beyond the door, I heard a startled cry, followed by a heavy thud, as the obstruction gave way.

I pushed the door open all the way and looked down at Sophia Hess; she was lying, winded, in a most uncomfortable position, in what seemed to be a large pool of cranberry juice, which was now soaking into her top and skirt. From the mark on the floor, one of her feet had skidded in the pool, which had come from the bottle that was lying beside her … which I had seen seconds before, flying over the top of the stall. It must've landed just right to spill the juice so she'd step in it. Really?

Sophia, although she gave me a groggy glare of death, didn't seem about to get up and attack me, so I retrieved my bag lunch and backpack from the toilet stall. As I was doing so, I realised that Emma's face was glaring at me from under the divider.

"Emma?" I asked, jolted out of my bemusement. "What the fuck?"

She didn't answer, so I stepped out of the stall once more. I had to see what was going on here.

Looking into Emma's stall, I saw – and burst out laughing. Emma had, I gathered, been standing on the toilet seat in order to reach over the partition and – I presumed – pour juice on me. No, not juice, I corrected myself; soda. The half-empty bottle was floating in the toilet bowl itself, its missing contents all over Emma.

The cause of the mishap was clear. The toilet seat had come loose from the pedestal, going one way while she went the other. And somehow, through some miracle of comic timing, she'd ended up wedged upside-down beside the cistern, with her head almost under the divider between toilets. She was grunting and straining to free herself, her legs jerking spasmodically, but it looked as though she had come down at just the right angle – or wrong angle, from her point of view – for doing that; one of her arms was trapped and she had zero leverage with the other one. In short, she was stuck in a hugely embarrassing position and would require intensive assistance to extricate herself. And possibly the use of heavy machinery.

The story in the stall on the other side was perhaps even funnier. Madison's toilet seat had opted to come loose from its pedestal as well – wait, what? - but instead of going sideways, it had shot out of the stall and come to rest under the sink. She hadn't ended up covered in the contents of her bottle, as Emma had; that bottle was the one that had arced over my stall and contributed to Sophia's catastrophic mishap, but she had ended up stuck in the toilet, butt first, with a small container of chocolate pudding upended on her head, the contents trickling down her face. Her knees were quite literally up around her ears. And as petite as she was, she looked wedged.

I would have given my soul to own a camera, right at that moment. I would have settled for a phone with a camera in it. Heck, I would have accepted a reasonably good sketch artist.

By the time I managed to stumble from the bathroom, I was weeping with laughter. I would have stayed, to enjoy the absolute hilarious awesomeness of the situation even more, but Sophia was beginning to climb to her feet. She was still winded, holding her ribs, but that wouldn't last and I figured it was probably a good idea to absent myself from the situation.

Other girls were just arriving at the bathrooms as I staggered out. They looked at me curiously as I wiped tears of mirth from my eyes. I still couldn't talk, so I just pointed into the the bathrooms and made good my escape.

<><>

By the end of the next period, the news was all over tenth grade and starting to percolate into the rest of the school. Emergency services had been called in; Madison was eventually pried out of her porcelain prison, while they had to dismantle the toilet beside Emma to get her free. Both were taken away on stretchers; the paramedics didn't think they'd sustained spinal injuries, but it was better by far to get them X-rayed to make sure.

Sophia, who had merely been winded – again – went into a magnificent fit of the sulks. People asking her about what had happened got told to fuck off in no uncertain terms; people asking me, on the other hand, got chapter and verse in between fits of laughter. I knew that Sophia would probably kill me later, but it was still so very worth it.

Several people expressed disbelief that the whole thing had happened at all, but the the first girls in there had taken photos before Sophia chased them out again. Those photos were making their way around the school in a way that underlined the phrase 'going viral'. It turned out that the more popular someone was, the more glee people took from the situation when that person ended up with egg on their face. And boy, did they take some glee from it.

Others had trouble believing that all of this had happened by chance; the number of staggering coincidences required boggled the mind. But I had done nothing and I told them so. They seemed to accept this and went back to admiring the photos. I, on the other hand, was beginning to wonder.

Weird coincidences were starting to follow me around. My life wasn't getting any better – unless I counted in the sheer satisfaction at seeing Emma and company brought down, as well as the fact that they were out of my hair for the moment – but it was becoming clear to me that the bullies were being prevented from tormenting me by incidents that could only be described as crazy random happenstance. Any one of the events of the last two days, taken on its own, could easily be passed off as pure chance, but two separate toilet seats coming free of their moorings at exactly the same time, with a bottle of juice flying over and leaving a pool for Sophia to step in? What were the odds?

Yesterday, Sophia's attempt to steal my clothing had ended when she stepped on the soap; soap that had almost certainly contributed, later on, toward foiling the water balloon plot. Looking at it in a certain way, it could all be explained away logically. As Dad had once told me, dice have no memory. It was perfectly possible for a series of one-in-a-million chances to happen, one after the other, to the same person, for the same end. But plausible? Not so much.

I needed to think about that. In fact, I was strongly considering talking to Dad about it. He had to have seen weirdness happening in his life. If he could match my story with one of his own, then I'd accept it as just one amazingly awesome day. But if he couldn't …

<><>

I was still thinking about it when the last class ended and I joined the general exodus from the school. Just as I reached the bottom of the steps, I heard Sophia's voice. "There she is."

Turning, I saw Sophia, in the company of four boys. Each of them was eyeing me with intent and moving in my direction. I began edging away, not wanting to let her or them get too close to me. True, whatever guardian angel was watching over me hadn't let her touch me for the last two days, but I couldn't depend on that. I didn't dare.

I got to the edge of the crowd and took off running, along the pavement. Part of my mind told me that I was running away from potential witnesses, people who could even help me against Sophia. The rest of my mind, the more pragmatic part of it, reminded me of all the times that these same people had stood by while Sophia and her friends had bullied me, up to and including locking me in my own locker. I ran faster.

<><>

When Hebert started running, Sophia glanced around. She couldn't see any of the undercover cops. Perfect. As they started after their prey, she pulled a heavy roll of silver-grey duct tape from her bag and handed it off to Troy, the biggest of the boys she had recruited for this purpose.

Their continued failure to get to Hebert following the locker incident had shaken Sophia a little. She was a winner. She deserved to win. Hebert, by her very nature, was a loser. But she wasn't playing by the rules; she wasn't losing. Through no merit of her own, she was avoiding her very deserved comeuppance at their hands. Well, not today.

All four boys were from the track team; Sophia had gotten their agreement to help her out with this by vaguely suggesting that she might be willing to date one of them if they assisted her. They'd fallen all over themselves to sign up for it. Originally, the idea was for them to chase Hebert on their own while Sophia left them to it, but she wasn't certain that they had the will to continue the chase to its conclusion, so she had decided to go along with them.

The duct tape was her idea. Once they had Hebert, Sophia intended to repay all of the humiliations and embarrassments that had happened to her over the last two days, then leaving the boys to add what refinements they could dream up in order to impress her. She couldn't have Hebert free to run off while this was going on, so binding her with tape was the next best idea. This brand had particularly strong adhesive qualities; Hebert was going to lose some hair. And possibly some skin, if the person removing it wasn't gentle.

They rounded the corner. Hebert was up ahead, running hard. However, while she was skinny, she was in no way fit or athletic. All they had to do was run her down. Prey, meet predator.

Sophia took the lead, adding enough pace to catch up with Hebert in short order. The boys pounded alongside her, then a couple of them drew ahead. She gritted her teeth and pushed herself a little harder. I don't lose, not to Hebert, not to you.

Ahead of them, she saw Hebert look around; her eyes widened and she actually sped up a little. But it was going to be too little, too late. They were bearing down on her like an express train and she had no hope at all of getting away. Behind her, Sophia heard Troy whoop with exhilaration, as well as the zzzrrripppp noise as he pulled a length of duct tape free from the roll.

"Carefu-" she began, just as Ken began to put on a spurt, pulling ahead of her. She never got to finish the word, because Ken tripped and fell. Sophia was too close behind him and she went tumbling as well. The others crashed into her back. Something latched on to her.

Zzzrrripppp. They rolled over and over, cursing and swearing and trying to get loose from one another. But every motion seemed to have the opposite effect from what was intended and she kept hearing that duct tape pulling free of the reel. With each motion, she was less and less able to move freely.

<><>

I heard the shouting and swearing behind me, far too close behind me; I snatched a glance with my heart in my mouth. The image that I beheld was so compelling that I nearly ran into a telephone pole before I remembered to look where I was going. Slowing to a trot and then a walk, I turned and ventured back the way I had come, staring with absolute fascination at Sophia and her friends.

Sophia glared back up at me, but she couldn't speak, due to the strip of duct tape crossing her mouth, meshed in with the one going right across over the top of her head. She struggled, but it didn't affect her bonds in the slightest.

"Okay …" I let the word draw out, trying to quell the laughter once more welling up from within me. "I get the duct tape bit, Sophia, but could one of you please tell me how you all managed to tie yourselves up with it?"

Those boys whose faces I could see looked utterly mortified, while Sophia looked as though she wanted to kill them, herself, or me, whichever was easier. I looked down at the bunch of them, somehow entangled in yard after yard of tough silvery-grey duct tape, binding their limbs no less efficiently than if they'd intended this result.

I couldn't help it; I began to giggle. "Or," I gasped. "Or is this some kind of weird performance art? Because you should be on the Boardwalk."

I couldn't say any more because I was laughing so hard that my face turned red and my stomach hurt. Sophia was so pissed I thought I could almost hear the steam whistling from her ears, but due to that fortuitous strip of duct tape, she couldn't say a word. And that made it even funnier.

Eventually, I recovered enough to stagger back toward the bus stop. Sophia and the boys would work their way free eventually. I didn't want to be there when they did. I strongly suspected that they might hold it personally that I laughed at their misfortune.

Still, once I was on the bus, I laughed all the way home.

<><>

As I got into the yard, I checked this time to see if Dad had come home early again. Sure enough, the car was parked alongside the house. Damn it, Dad.

I opened the back door and called out. "Hi, I'm home!"

"Hi," he replied. "I'm in the living room."

"Twice in a row?" I asked as I headed for the door into the living room. "Dad, you're going to get in trouble."

"I got a phone call at work today," he told me as he got up from the sofa.

"What, the school called?" I was puzzled. "Nobody spoke to me about this." Well, I had been distracted in Mr Quinlan's math class, but then, the photos of Emma and Madison had been making the rounds. There hadn't been three students actually paying attention.

"It wasn't the school, Taylor." He looked at me soberly. "Alan Barnes called. He told me some weird story about you putting Emma in the hospital. He hinted at legal action."

I blinked. "Put her – Dad, I didn't touch Emma!"

"All right," he agreed promptly. "So what did happen?"

"Well, one of two things. The first is that Emma and her friends have been spontaneously suffering the worst case of bad luck ever … or …"

"Or?" He tilted his head, looking at me.

I took a deep breath. "Or … I'm a cape."

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Rating:

General Audiences

Archive Warnings:

Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death

Categories:

F/MF/F

Fandom:

Parahumans Series - Wildbow

Relationships:

Taylor/BrianAmy Dallon | Panacea | Red Queen/Lily | Flechette | FoilEidolon/OC

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Published:2024-11-28Completed:2024-11-28Words:151,707Chapters:20/20Comments:70Kudos:361Bookmarks:192Hits:14,065

It Gets Worse

Ack13

Chapter 3: Miscommunication Central

Summary:

Jan 11 2011

Chapter Text

The bus rolled past the group of struggling teens. Sophia could see the staring faces from within; worst of all was Hebert's face. She was still laughing. Laughing at me. Nobody laughs at me.

She wrenched against the binding duct tape, straining to form words past the strip which had fallen across her mouth and felt like it was permanently bound there. It didn't happen; all she managed was a faint mewing noise, which infuriated her even more. That makes me sound helpless. I'm not helpless.

She had, of course, a simple way to get out of this. I could go insubstantial, leave it behind. A pause. Unless this adhesive makes it part of me. She thought about it some more. Well, if nothing else, I can get away from these dopes, and pull my way free.

The big problem was, of course, the fact that she would be outing herself in front of four witnesses. Worse, these witnesses would be able to verify that she, a superhero, had talked them into attacking Hebert.

The boys were also struggling, which didn't help; every time she thought she'd achieved any sort of slack in the duct tape, one of them would pull it tight again. She growled behind the tape.

Fuck it, I'll take the chance. Swear them to secrecy. It worked with Emma.

Taking a deep breath through her nose, she prepared to push herself into the shadow-state – then held back, just in time, as a dozen kids trotted around the corner.

"Holy shit, I didn't believe it when Joey texted me."

"I'm seeing it and I still don't believe it."

"Are you seeing this?"

"Someone get a picture!"

"Oh god, this is classic."

"This is better than Emma Barnes."

"It's better than Madison."

"How do you even fucking do that?"

"Geez, get a room, will you?"

"I didn't know she was into bondage."

"Hey guys, can we get you anything? Pillows? Blankets? Lube?"

Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Sophia gritted her teeth behind the duct tape. Somebody is going to fucking die for this.

The crowd of kids gathered around them, chattering and laughing. She heard phones click as pictures were taken and, presumably, sent to other people. And then someone knelt beside her; she felt fumbling at the duct tape. Excellent. I'm getting out of this.

The fumbling moved to her belt, and she felt her phone being removed from her pocket. She tried to struggle, to wrench herself free, to turn to look at whoever was robbing her, but she couldn't do any of that. She couldn't even raise the alarm.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!

There was a slap on her ass – one final humiliation – and then the person was gone. With her phone. I've just been robbed. I've just been robbed. This does not happen to me.

But manifestly, it had. Sophia nearly ruptured herself trying to turn her head, to see who had taken them, but it was too late. Another phone clicked, capturing her expression.

Then – and only then – did she hear sirens approaching. The crowd began to disperse as the police car came into sight; it pulled up alongside Sophia and the boys. The officers got out and approached the group; one of them pushed his cap back and scratched his head.

"Well," he mused out loud. "Now I really have seen everything."

Sophia's list was really long by now, but she added him to it anyway.

<><>

She winced as the duct tape was pulled away from her mouth. She hadn't been wrong, before; the adhesive did feel as though it was removing skin as well as hair. "Fuck!" she screamed. "Fuck fuck fuuuuuccccckkkk!"

The police officers were restraining themselves from laughing, but only just, as they cut the five teens from the tangle of duct tape. For their part, the boys were a lot more subdued than Sophia, letting her take the lead.

Sophia subsided, glaring at everyone around her. The senior officer of the two pulled out his notebook. "Now that you've gotten that out of your system, miss, would you like to tell us how this happened?"

Sophia took a deep breath. "I -" She paused, riffling through options.

Fuck.

"It was an accident." She ground the words out.

"An accident." The other officer snorted with laughter. "Five of you get wound up with duct tape and it's an accident?"

"Yeah," supplied one of the boys. "Like she said. It was an accident." He peeled duct tape from his clothing; it really didn't want to let go.

Sophia rounded on him. "You had a pocket-knife! I could feel it digging into my butt! Why didn't you get that out and cut us free?"

"Uh …" He seemed to want to look anywhere but her.

"What?"

"Uh, that … wasn't a pocket-knife."

They had to tase her to get her off of him.

<><>

As she exited the police station, Sophia felt her 'social worker' take her arm. "Sophia, what happened? Why did you attack that boy?"

Sophia clenched her teeth. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why is there a big strip of missing hair over the top of your head?"

She clenched her teeth harder. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, is that where the duct tape -"

"Yes, that's where the duct tape was. Now can you just let it go?"

The woman looked at her directly. "I can't help you if you won't talk to me. What's happening here?"

Sophia felt a certainty unfolding in her mind. I know what happened. "What's happening here is that you're driving me to the PRT building, and not asking any more stupid fucking questions."

<><>

She rehearsed the speech in her mind as she rode the lift up in the PRT building.

There is a Master-class cape loose at Winslow High. Her name is Taylor Hebert. She forced me and my friends to harm ourselves for her enjoyment. She belongs in the Birdcage.

As the lift came to a halt on the appropriate floor, she allowed herself a long-awaited snarl of triumph. Suck on that, Hebert. I don't lose.

Stepping out of the elevator, she strode along the corridor toward Director Piggot's office.

<><>

Emily Piggot looked up at the knock on the door. A quick glance at her day planner indicated that she didn't have any appointments scheduled. This had better be good. "Enter!" she called.

The door opened and Shadow Stalker ... well, stalked in. Her fists were clenched and her whole posture bespoke anger; Emily could tell that much. Beyond that, however, there wasn't much of a clue as to what was going on. Shadow Stalker nearly always seemed to be angry or upset over something.

"I presume you're here for something important," stated Emily.

Shadow Stalker took a deep breath. "Yeah," she replied. "Got something you really need to hear about."

Emily tilted her head. "Is this anything to do with the incident today, where you were charged with several counts of assault and battery to a fellow student of Winslow?" Her tone, deceptively light, held a certain amount of weight behind it.

"I can explain that," Sophia gritted.

"Explain it? You broke his nose, fractured his cheekbone, and kicked him repeatedly in the testicles!" Emily exclaimed. "In front of two police officers! After you were found duct-taped to him and three other boys! Can you explain that, too?"

Shadow Stalker clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles had to be white under the gloves. "Yes. It's why I'm here to talk to you now."

"And you couldn't simply leave me a message, or send an email?"

The Ward shook her head. "My phone was stolen. And it's really too important to put into an email. So I came straight here."

Emily nodded. "Very well. I will receive your report now."

<><>

Finally. Sophia took a breath. "There's a -"

Piggot's phone rang. She held up a finger as she picked it up. "I have to get this."

Sophia ground to a halt, gritting her teeth. Impatiently, she watched Piggot on the phone.

"Yes … got it … yes … all right … okay … yes … okay … fine … done."

Piggot put the phone down and laced her fingers before her. "I'm sorry, you were saying?"

Sophia rolled her eyes. "I'm saying that there's a -"

Piggot's mobile rang, vibrating furiously on the desk. "Excuse me," muttered the Director, picking it up. She frowned at the number on the screen, then answered it. "Yes?"

Sophia clenched her fists inside her gloves. Oh, for fuck's sake. Come on. It shouldn't be so hard to simply tell her what the fuck is going on, and get Hebert put in her place forever. Fuck, I don't even care if she isn't a cape. She deserves this anyway.

On the phone, Piggot was still blathering on. "Pardon? No … no, I think you have the wrong number … no, this is the PRT building … Parahuman Response Teams … yes, yes, I'm sure. I'm the Director … no, I'm not Director Costa-Brown, I'm Director Piggot … no, I'm not joking … yes, I am serious … no, I advise you to check your number before you call again … goodbye."

Heaving a sigh of aggravation, she clicked the button to end the call, then put the mobile down again.

"Apologies," she told Sophia. "Now, you had something to say?"

"Yes," gritted Sophia. "I do have something to say."

Piggot cleared her throat warningly. "Tone," she warned Sophia.

Sophia pressed her lips together behind her mask, and took several deep breaths. "Okay," she muttered. "Okay."

"I'm waiting," prompted Piggot.

"Right," Sophia began yet again. "Director Piggot, there's a -"

A knock on the door interrupted her. She turned as it opened. The Deputy Director leaned in through the doorway.

"Yes, Mr Renick?" asked Piggot.

"I'm just going down to the canteen for a bite to eat," Renick offered. "Did you want me to get you anything?"

Piggot considered that. She wasn't feeling particularly hungry. "No thank you, Mr Renick. I appreciate the offer, though."

"Not a problem, Director." Renick withdrew, pulling the door closed behind him. The Director looked back at Sophia.

"You were saying, Shadow Stalker?" she asked.

Sophia drew a deep breath. Screaming at the Director would not help. "Right. There's a -"

The computer on Piggot's desk beeped loudly, drawing the Director's eyes to the screen. "One moment," she interrupted, holding up a finger.

"No, but there's a -"

"Miss Hess, this is important," Piggot warned her, eyes skimming the screen. "I'll be with you in a moment."

"But what I've got to tell you can't wait!" shouted Sophia, forgetting her decision not to scream at the Director.

Piggot turned to look at her, her gaze very cold indeed. "You will not use that tone of voice on me again," she snapped. "I have a very high priority email here that I have to look over."

"But this is important," insisted Sophia, trying not to shout again. "There's a -"

"No," snapped Piggot. "You will not interrupt me. You will listen. I'm a busy woman. I have work to do. I do not need you wasting my time like this. Now, you will wait till I have finished reading this email, and then you will say what needs to be said. Do you understand?"

Sophia's fists clenched again, and she ground her teeth together.

"I said, do you understand?" Piggot was in full-on bureaucrat mode now. There would be no talking to her.

Reluctantly, Sophia nodded. "Yes," she conceded. "I understand."

Piggot nodded curtly. "Good." She looked back at the email.

Sophia put her hands behind her back, twining her fingers together until they hurt. She had to tell Piggot about this. As much as Sophia wanted to put Hebert into her place personally, a Master-class like that had to be dealt with at a distance. And the best way to do that was by using the PRT as a blunt object. But to do that, she needed the PRT to cooperate and take her seriously. Lashing out was not the best way to get that done.

Eventually, Piggot finished reading the email. She nodded once, then looked up at Sophia. "Very well. What was the matter that you wished to speak to me about?"

Sophia took a deep breath. "There's a -"

And then the Endbringer sirens went off.

<><>

"Oh, come on!" screamed Shadow Stalker. "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

Emily was barely listening. She snatched up the phone and stabbed numbers on the keypad.

"Ops," a voice reported in her ear.

"Talk to me," she ordered. "Which one is it?"

"We don't know. We're not even sure if there is an Endbringer."

"Explain." From the corner of her eye, she spotted Shadow Stalker digging a pencil and pad from a pouch on her belt.

"About thirty seconds ago, our sensory equipment suffered a massive glitch. Some sort of power spike. It ended up profiling sort of like an Endbringer, so the computer set off the alarm just in case. We're double-checking all our readings right now."

Shadow Stalker placed the pad on the desk and began to write. She was two words in when the point broke. Throwing the pencil to the floor, she stamped on it.

"Triple-check them," Emily ordered curtly. Wordlessly, she pushed a mug full of pens across the desk to Shadow Stalker. The girl plucked one out and bent over the pad again.

"Will do, ma'am. Do you want to stay on the line, or should we call you back?"

The first pen refused to work at all. The second managed a bare squiggle of ink before it died. Emily watched, bemused to the point that she almost lost track of what the man in Ops was saying.

"Ah, no, I need you to give this your full attention. Call me back if this is something we really have to worry about."

Shadow Stalker tried another pen. The nib came off and deluged the pad in ink.

"Yes, ma'am. Will do."

"Good." Emily hung up, then took her gold-plated pen from her pocket. It was engraved with her unit's motto: Neque receptus, non deditio. Blandly, she offered it across the desk to Shadow Stalker.

Snatching it, the Ward ripped off the ink-covered page and clicked the pen. The click had authority behind it, as befitted a one hundred fifty dollar precision writing implement. However, what came next should not have happened; Emily watched in disbelief as the pen came apart in Shadow Stalker's hand, the powerful spring propelling bits and pieces of the mechanism in all directions.

With a howl of wordless rage, Shadow Stalker dropped the barrel of the pen, snatched a permanent marker from the cup, and spun around. She stomped over to the wall and began to write in large sweeping strokes.

Emily came to her feet, ignoring the familiar twinge from her legs. "Don't you dare write on my -"

A flicker out of the corner of her eyes warned her; old reflexes took over and she dived to the floor. Behind her, a shattering crash heralded the demise of her office window. She shielded her head with her arms as fragments of glass cascaded around her and something barrelled over her desk. Another crash resounded through the room, this one sounding more like drywall.

Cautiously, shedding bits and pieces of her window, she got up and looked over the desk. There was, within the settling dust, a large hole in her office wall. Outside, in the corridor, something was going on; due to the dust, she couldn't tell exactly what it was, but there seemed to be at least two people involved, plus a lot of squawking.

A white feather drifted to her desk. She stared at it.

<><>

"It was the seagulls." Aegis, at least, seemed to be relatively unhurt. Piggot watched as he pulled a long sliver of glass from his arm; the wound didn't even bleed. Such a minor injury would be closed by the end of the day and healed by the time the week was up. He wouldn't even need bandaging. For just a moment, she envied him.

"The seagulls." Emily's voice was flat. There were more feathers in here, all originating from one very live and very noisy seabird, which had since escaped out the window in the confusion. On the upside, the Endbringer sirens had ceased to wail. "How do seagulls come into this?"

"Well, when the sirens went off, I was on patrol," he explained. "I came back as fast as I could. I got a reflection the sun off the building in my eyes as I was just gaining altitude to land on the roof. Then a flock of seagulls must have gotten in the way. One got right in my face, squawking and flapping. I didn't pull up in time."

"You most certainly did not." She looked down the hall a little way, to where paramedics were loading Shadow Stalker on to a stretcher. "How is she?"

"She's stable," one of them reported. "A few broken ribs and a broken collarbone. We don't think there was a spinal injury but we've got her immobilised anyway until that can be checked out. But she's awake now."

"Good." Piggot walked over and knelt next to the injured girl. Her knees protested, but she ignored them. "Shadow Stalker. Can you hear me?"

Shadow-Stalker's head was in a brace, so it couldn't move, but the girl's eyes rolled toward her. "Unh?"

"What was it you were trying to tell me?"

"Uh." The Ward seemed to be trying to think. "Director." Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes?"

"It's not my fault."

"What's not your fault?"

"The bullshit magic space whale made me paint the eggs purple. I didn't mean to. It's in my brain."

Piggot looked accusingly at the paramedic. "I thought you said she was awake."

"She is," the man replied. "I didn't say she was lucid. She's got a huge bump on her head. There might be a concussion involved."

With an effort, Piggot stood again. "Take her away."

"Yes, ma'am."

She turned to Aegis. "Do you have any idea what she was talking about?"

He shook his head. "Sorry, ma'am. Not a clue."

She grimaced. "Well, the window and the wall will come out of your salary. Next time, be more careful."

His expression mirrored hers. "Yes, ma'am."

"Get out of my sight." She stumped back into her office.

I wonder what she wanted to tell me.

Letting out a sigh, she brushed glass from her chair. That was a serious string of bad luck. She paused. Wait a minute ...

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Chapter 815 - it gets worse 1 - 3