Alea Iacta Est - a Worm AU Fanfic

Alea Iacta Est

Part Two: Enlightenment

[A/N: Dinah's dialogue assisted by a friend of mine with teenage daughters.]

Dinah Alcott wished that her headache would go away. It lay across her brain like a malevolent kitten, digging in claws that felt like railroad spikes. Painkillers barely dented it; she could hardly eat, and she had to drag herself up the stairs to her room while the latest round of her parents' ongoing argument echoed from the living room.

Her parents had been fighting about stuff since Christmas, but she had only started getting the headaches since the yelling and slamming doors had begun happening. A couple of weeks ago, just after New Years', she had come downstairs to find her father sleeping – rather uncomfortably, it seemed – on the sofa. He had awakened at her startled gasp, and made a joke about 'camping out'. But she had gone to school terrified that when she got back, one of her parents would be gone forever.

I don't want that to happen.

The screaming downstairs was reaching a crescendo, and – wait for it – a door would be slammed, any moment SLAM now. She had heard these arguments so often that she could read the pattern, the flow, of them. It was as if she didn't even need to hear the words; she just knew what was coming next.

It's so stupid.

The thought bobbed up into her mind, and waited for her to notice it.

She frowned. Stupid how? Well, she knew it was stupid; she just didn't know how to fix it.

They're arguing about two different things, and they can't see it.

That revelation was enough to get her out of bed. Cautiously, she climbed out of bed and tottered out of her room, to the top of the stairs. Sitting down, she hugged the bannisters for support. Now, she could hear the words that were being shouted at each other.

She blinked; she could hear the words behind the words. The words that they weren't saying.

I know what's wrong.

I can fix this.

Carefully, she pulled herself to her feet, and stumbled downstairs. Her parents were in the living room, facing each other; they turned to look at her as she entered the room.

“Honey, what's up?” asked her mother. “Did we disturb you?”

“Of course you disturbed her, Anna,” her father muttered gruffly. “Screeching like a banshee -”

“Mom,” Dinah interrupted him. “Dad. I know why you're arguing. I know why you're mad at each other.”

That brought a few seconds of pause, as the two adults looked at one another, then back at her.

“Sweetie, it's really complicated -” her father began.

“No, Dad, it's actually not,” she interrupted him again. Looking at him, at her mother, she could see the network of what was going on. The stress patterns. The deep issues. The reasons. And she could see how to fix it. If only they would let her.

“Honey, it's late,” decided her mother. “You should be in bed.”

She stood her ground. “Why, so you two can keep arguing?” she asked, with a tremor in her voice. “Is this what you really want, that you get so mad that you can't stop?”

“We're pretty well there now,” her father muttered.

Her mother shot him an angry look, then knelt down before her. “No, of course we don't, honey. We love each other, we really do. It's just that there are some things -”

“It's gonna be all over between you two if this keeps going,” Dinah stated clearly. “You're not gonna be able to help yourselves. You'll start thinking about divorce. And that's the last thing I want.”

Her mother hugged her; Dinah hugged her back. “Oh honey, we're not going to go that far.”

“Oh, yes, you are,” Dinah insisted. “But I know what's wrong, and if you're willing to listen to me, I can fix it.”

Her father looked dubious, but said nothing. Her mother pulled back and looked at her carefully. “What do you mean, honey?”

“I mean that I can see what's happening to you,” Dinah told her simply. “And excuse my French, but it's crap.”

"You can ... see ... what's happening?"

Dinah nodded earnestly. "You think Dad's mad at you for spending your money, right?"

Anna Alcott nodded. "Well, that's part of it ... "

"Not even close." Dinah shook her head vigorously, her straight brown hair waving back and forth.

Her mother paused. "No?"

"Nope." Dinah pointed at her father. "He's mad because he thinks you like someone else."

Slowly, her mother turned to look at her father. " ... what?"

He shuffled his feet and looked a little embarrassed. "I don't really think that, but with all the new clothing you've been buying, and the new perfumes ..."

"You think I might be looking around?" Her mother's mouth opened in shock. "No. God, no. There's no-one but you. There's never been anyone but you."

"So why the new perfumes, the new hairstyles, the new clothes?"

She looked at him blankly, as if she were unable to figure out how he couldn't understand this.

Dinah went to her rescue. "For god's sake, it's for you, Dad. She wants to make herself look good for you."

"You look just fine as you are?" he ventured, frowning in puzzlement.

"So why haven't you been paying attention to me?" she burst out.

"What? Sure I've been paying attention." He looked almost indignant at that.

"No. You really haven't. You've been working late since mid December, and when you're home you're really distracted."

"No, I've been working extra hours to earn a bonus, so …" He trailed off.

His wife picked up on that immediately, of course. “So …?” she prompted.

Defeated, he slumped. "So I could take you away for a weekend on our anniversary."

"Which you missed," she snapped.

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I got too caught up in stuff, and it happened before I was able to make arrangements. Sorry.”

Her lips tightened. “That's not -” She stopped herself.

“That's not what?” he asked.

“Mom thinks that you're hiding something,” Dinah supplied. “And she's not wrong, is she?”

They both looked at her, then at each other.

“Are you hiding something?” she asked.

“Sort of,” he admitted. “But I didn't want it to come out like this.”

“Like what?” When he didn't answer, she compressed her lips together. “I found a receipt in your pants pocket when I put it in the wash. It was from a jeweller's. What did you buy … and who was it for?”

“Why didn't you ask me when you found it?” he demanded.

“Because I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt!” she shouted.

“Mom! Dad!” Dinah's high voice rose over both of theirs. Again, they looked at her. “Dad, please, will you just shut up and give it to her?”

He took in a deep breath. “Right. Okay. One second.” Turning, he vanished into his study. Moments later, he emerged with a box in his hand; a few inches wide by several inches long, it drew the attention by the fact that it lacked any sort of ostentation.

“I wanted to keep this for until we were doing better,” he explained in a vague tone of apology. “Didn't want it to seem like a bribe to make you be happy.” Running out of words, he handed the box over.

Carefully, she opened it; the first thing that came to her eye was a small card. Open, it read, To my dearest Anna. This is my apology for missing our anniversary. I promise that I'll do better next time.

Beneath it, glinting softly in the living room lights, was a necklace of intertwined gold and silver chains. Dinah's mother caught her breath as she stared at it. “Oh,” she murmured. “Oh my.”

He lifted it from the box. “Do you want me to put it on you?”

Her eyes lifted to his; they were soft, lacking the anger of moments before. Her lips slightly parted, she breathed, “Yes. Please.”

As Anna turned her back to her husband, carefully sweeping her hair out of the way, Dinah backed out of the room and crept up the stairs. The rift between her parents was almost closed; the hurt would heal in time. They were willing to listen to each other now. They're willing to listen to each other. My job is done. Now, who should I send the bill to, and how many zeroes should I put on it?

As she settled back into bed, hugging her pillow and listening to the gentle murmur of her parents conversing downstairs, she realised that her headache was gone; it had vanished without a trace.

Mom and Dad are talking again, and I think I've got super-powers.

Best. Day. Ever.

She fell asleep with a smile on her face.

<><>​

“I want to do that!”

“Carly, you're doing the gluing.”

“Because no-one else is gonna do it.”

“Dinah, are you okay?”

Dinah opened her eyes at that; she realised that she'd been sitting back with her eyes closed and her fingers pressed into her temples. Blonde-haired Briony was looking at her with some concern. Behind Briony, she could see Xavier doodling on the corner of the piece of paper he was supposed to be cutting shapes out of, and Hank whispering something to Kayla to make her giggle. Carly, with a glue pot in one hand and a mutinous expression on her face, was staring daggers at Briony's back.

“Got a headache,” she mumbled.

“Should I get Mrs Smith?”

Dinah shook her head. “Wouldn't help. But I think you might be doing it wrong.”

“That's what I said!” Carly broke in. Dinah winced at her tone.

“You mean I don't know what I'm doing?” Briony retorted, her tone hurt.

“No, I mean that you've got the right idea, but there's a better way to do it.” She waved her hand. “Everyone else is half done, and we're barely started.”

“That's because me and Carly are the only ones who are doing anything,” Briony retorted. “You've got a headache, Xavier's scribbling and Hank and Kayla are playing house over there.”

Dinah took a deep breath. “Carly, I'll take over gluing, okay?”

“All right!” crowed Carly. “Scissors please!”

“No,” Briony told her. “It's Xavier's job to do the cutting.”

It was all so clear to Dinah now. “No, Carly's got smaller hands. She'll do a neater job. Xavier, you're good at drawing. Can you trace some shapes for Carly, then draw decorative designs on the bits you've already cut out?”

“Uh, sure,” Xavier replied in surprise. “Briony?”

“Uh, yeah, that's a good idea,” Briony belatedly agreed. She turned to Dinah and hissed, “I'm in charge of this project!”

“I know,” Dinah told her at once. “My dad taught me about 'delegation'. It's how you get people to tell people to do stuff for you. You're just delegating me to do the job.”

“ … oh.” Briony thought about that. “Delegation. Yeah, that sounds about right. So, how do we delegate Hank and Kayla to do stuff?”

“Well,” Dinah replied, as if she hadn't already thought it through, “how about Kayla colours in the drawings that Xavier's making, and Hank sorts the pieces out, so that we know what goes where?”

Kayla had already perked up at the mention of colouring; Briony nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense. So is there anything I can do?”

Dinah shrugged. “Uh … hold the pieces together so that I can glue it more easily?”

Briony smiled. “I can do that.”

When Mrs Smith passed by their table a few moments later, everyone was busy; Carly was cutting out the shapes drawn for her by Xavier, who was busily decorating the pieces already cut out. Kayla was carefully shading in crayon work to enhance Xavier's line drawings of dragons and castles. Briony was helping Dinah attach the finished shapes, put in order by Hank, to each string in turn.

“Well, I am impressed, Briony,” she murmured to the blonde. “I hadn't thought you were this organised before, but here you are.”

“Thank you, ma'am,” the girl replied. “It's all about delegation. Dinah told me about it.”

“Well done, Dinah,” praised Mrs Smith. “And you too, Briony. And the rest of you, too. It looks like you're really working together. I can't wait to see your finished piece.”

As she walked off, Briony punched Dinah lightly on the shoulder; surprised, Dinah looked around to see the other girl grinning at her. “What?”

“She's right. We're all really working together. And it's all because you saw how we should do it.”

Dinah ducked her head to hide a slight flush. “Dad says that a good boss knows when to delegate.”

“Well, when I'm running the world, I know who I want working for me.”

Dinah giggled. “Well, how about we finish making this mobile first?”

Briony rolled her eyes. “Details, details.” But she picked up the next two pieces and held them together for Dinah to glue. “Say, isn't your headache bothering you?”

“Uh, no.” Dinah blinked, a little surprised herself. “No, it's gone away.”

“Good. I was wondering if you were faking it so you wouldn't have to play sports this afternoon.”

“Faking it?” Dinah shook her head. “Uh, no. No, I'm fine.”

“Good.” Briony smiled. “I want you on my team. I like the way you think.”

“Oh.” Dinah looked at her, then nodded. “Okay.”

And they went back to building the mobile.

<><>​

Briony was not happy, Dinah decided. It wasn't hard to figure out why; she had been counting on being picked as a team captain, but this hadn't happened. Instead, Samantha and Gretel had ended up as captains, and had commenced picking out their teams for the upcoming soccer game.

“Same team,” murmured Briony from beside her. “Same team.”

Dinah shrugged. “If I can,” she agreed. It didn't really matter to her; she wasn't good at the game. Half the time, when she went to kick the ball, it just wasn't there.

Briony, being tall and reasonably athletic, was an early pick for Samantha's side. She trudged to her captain's group, and was handed the red cloth that she was supposed to tie around her arm to mark her as part of that team. Other girls were picked for each team; once she had the cloth tied properly, Briony began to talk insistently to Samantha, gesturing in Dinah's direction. Samantha, however, had other ideas, and picked out Kayla instead.

Gretel picked Carly, who grinned at Dinah as she departed for the team sporting the blue cloths.

Samantha picked Francine; Briony looked unhappy as Gretel cast her eye over the remainder of the girls. The ones who were actually good at sports had been taken; of the remainder, Jasmine was painfully thin and used an inhaler, Ingrid wore Coke-bottle glasses, Helen was more than a little overweight, and Dinah was … Dinah. Ordinary, average, everyday.

As Gretel opened her mouth, Dinah started coughing heavily, finishing off with a hawking sound that didn't actually bring anything up but sounded positively disgusting. Gretel closed her mouth and switched her gaze. “Helen,” she called.

“Okay,” Helen agreed, and trundled over. “I can't run much.”

“That's all right,” Gretel told her. “You can be the goalie.”

“Okay.”

Briony prodded Samantha and gestured toward Dinah again. Samantha looked her over dubiously; Dinah smiled slightly and nodded back. She needs to see confidence. After a long pause, Samantha called out, “Dinah.”

Over she trotted; Briony slapped her on the shoulder, but she barely noticed. The team was standing around, some bored, some alert. She could, more than ever before, see the potential there. Each of them had strengths and weaknesses, some more obvious than others. She could see how to get them to work together, how to weld them into a cohesive whole.

If only they would let her.

<><>​

A few minutes before half-time, it wasn't going well. Jasmine and Ingrid, by general agreement, had been tapped to keep track of the score; Ms Hendricks was watching to ensure that the rules were adhered to, and that no fights broke out.

Samantha had a lot of enthusiasm, and was a fair soccer player herself, but she had trouble accepting that the others in her team lacked her skill and capabilities. Briony was good, and a few of the others also knew what they were doing, but for the most part, they seemed to be just blundering around the field, looking around for the ball.

Dinah's headache had returned in full force; as she watched the players run around the field, she could see how it could be made to work. Each player's capabilities were mapped out in full to her eye, both Samantha's side and Gretel's. She could see how Gretel was organising her players, the strengths and weaknesses in the opposing side's strategy. She knew how to break it; all she needed was the chance to do so. But each time she saw how it could be done, and didn't do anything about it, the pain increased yet again.

Talking to Samantha wouldn't help; she could see that. Their side was down four goals to nil already, and the bigger girl was not going to listen to guidance from her. Briony, however ...

"Briony," she gasped, finally catching up to the girl. "I can fix this. But I need your help."

Briony eyed her, then at where the ball was heading for their goal again. Samantha was urgently screaming and gesturing for her to intercept it. "Talk to Samantha," she told Dinah, then ran off. Dinah watched as she was body-blocked by two of Gretel's bigger players, allowing the ball to get past. By the time Dinah caught up with her, she was picking herself up off of the ground, and a yell from the opposing side signalled yet another goal. At the same time, Ms Hendricks blew her whistle to signal half-time.

"I can't," Dinah responded. "Samantha won't listen to me. But she'll listen to you."

"She didn't before," Briony stated flatly, as they started back toward their goal line.

"Try it now," Dinah urged her. "But say this to her ... "

She spoke, and Briony listened.

<><>​

"Okay, guys, we're being murdered out there," Samantha pointed out, pushing sweaty strands of hair back from her face. "Seriously, we need to stop slacking off and get into position, and kick the damn ball. Not just wave your feet in its general direction."

"We're doing our best," Francine protested. "Gretel's got her people all over us."

"Well, you're obviously not doing your best," Samantha shot back, "or we'd be winning."

"Uh, Samantha," Briony ventured before an argument could start. "I've been watching them, and I think I've got them figured out."

Samantha turned to her. “Okay, let's hear it. How do we beat them?”

“Okay, first off, we put Dinah in as goalie.” Briony nodded to Dinah. “We all know she isn't that great out on the field.”

Dinah shrugged. “It's true.”

“Okay,” Samantha agreed. “Dinah, you're goalie. It's not like you can do a worse job than Francine.”

“Hey, I never asked to be goalie,” Francine objected.

Dinah said nothing. To speak up now would do more harm than good, especially if she revealed that Francine had not tried at all to stop any of the goals. That Francine was deliberately letting the side down because of her friendship with some of the girls on Gretel's side. No-one would believe me. Better to just get her out of the goalie position, where she can do a lot less harm.

“So, you got any other ideas?” asked Samantha.

“Yeah, I got ideas for plays,” Briony told her. She pointed at those girls who were best at handling the ball; this did not include Francine. “Come on, I'll fill you in.”

“Hey, what do the rest of us do?” asked Francine.

“Get in the way of their players,” Briony suggested.

“I'm still team captain,” Samantha warned Briony as they walked off a little way with the picked players.

“Well, yeah,” Briony agreed. “You're just delegating strategy to me.”

Dinah waited with the others; she had explained it clearly enough to Briony that the other girl was able to impress on each of the others what her role was to be. It would be a rough and ready system, but she should be able to make a difference if she played it right.

“What's that all about?” complained Francine, gesturing to the group with Samantha and Briony. “What are they talking about?”

“Don't know, don't care,” lied Dinah. She knew full well that if Francine was in that group, that she'd do her best to disrupt the instructions with questions and chatter. Which is why she's here, rather than there. She's a blue cloth in the red team. We're just gonna have to play around her.

All too soon, Ms Hendricks' whistle blew, and the team gathered together once more.

“Okay, team,” Samantha addressed everyone. “You're clear on what we're gonna do?”

Serious nods greeted her; predictably, Francine spoke up. “What are you gonna do?”

Briony answered her, grinning broadly. “We're gonna win this game, that's what we're gonna do.”

<><>​

With the kickoff, given that the blue team had scored the most recent goal, Samantha's team had the ball. She passed it immediately to Briony, then fell in before her, moving forward to prevent anyone from marking her. Just as a player slipped past Samantha toward Briony, the ball was passed sideways to where a flying wedge of three of the other players was waiting toward the edge of the field. They started moving fast up toward the blue goal, kicking the ball between them.

The players designated as cover started moving among the blue players, getting in their way and making it hard to get to the ones who had the ball. But Gretel saw what they were up to, and had a phalanx of her heftiest girls ready to come in hard.

Just as they were about to hit, one of the girls dropped back; Briony glanced back, Dinah gave her the hand signal, and Briony nodded to Samantha. Samantha called out, one of the girls kicked the ball backward just before they were overwhelmed by weight of numbers, and the third one out booted it sideways through the air. Samantha, waiting midfield, headed it forwards, to where Briony had run to; Briony trapped it, then kicked hard, lofting it into the blue team goal net, inches away from Helen's reaching fingers.

There was an instant of surprise, then shock, before the red team erupted with cheering. One goal to five wasn't a great score by any stretch, but it was a start. As the red team came walking back toward the midline, Gretel went over to her goalkeeper, and appeared to be having words with her. Briony sought out Dinah with her eyes and gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

Okay, they'll be looking for that one now. Let's hope the next one works as well as that did.

As the teams set up for the kick-off, Dinah read the blue team's intent, and figured out which play was best needed. When Briony looked around at her, she made a great show of scratching her right ear; Briony nodded, then turned to Samantha. Samantha gave orders, and some of the team members started fading backward toward the goal line.

The play worked almost perfectly, with red team players frustrating the blue team's attempts to come downfield. It would have worked perfectly, except that Francine, running right instead of left, 'accidentally' blundered in front of Samantha, just before the team captain would have booted the ball back upfield. Dinah pursed her lips as the ball got through the red defence at last and came blasting downfield, with the blue team thundering after it. Again, she read their intent, and figured out a play to beat it. Fortunately, it was one of a few simple patterns that she had communicated to Briony. She rubbed her nose vigorously as the ball came closer and closer; then, she had no time at all.

Gretel was coming in for the kick; it looked to be a smash into the slightly larger section of net to Dinah's right. But Dinah's power read the deception loud and clear; Gretel was going to double-step and kick with her other foot. She held until Gretel was committed, then moved left; the ball left the toe of the blue captain's boot, and flew straight into her hands. She threw it back again, over the heads of the closest blue players, to where Briony was waiting. Samantha, alerted by her friend, took it from there; between her and Briony, they shepherded it most of the way up the field before the blue team even caught up with them. Even without Dinah's direction, they pulled off a feint-and-kick that put another goal on the scoreboard for the red team. Dinah found herself yelling shrilly, pumping her fists in the air. They scored that time, and I didn't even have to help them!

<><>​

The red team were grinning like maniacs as they came back to the midline for the kickoff once more; Gretel's teammates were looking somewhat more grim. Two goals to five was a little more substantial than one goal to five. They still didn't consider that they were going to lose, but it looked like they were in for a fight.

This time, Gretel had a different strategy in mind, and Dinah alerted Briony accordingly. Samantha had severe words with Francine about getting in her way; the girl slunk off to her allotted place with more than one glare back at the red captain.

With the kickoff, Gretel's team came blasting through in a bull-rush, intended to overwhelm the defences of the red team. But Dinah had planned for that; she barely had to give Briony any direction at all, as she and Samantha coordinated a response that saw the ball taken away from the blue team when it was barely five yards from the red goal. Back upfield it went, back and forth between the red players, who were really starting to hit their stride now. It nearly fell prey to an interception near the blue goal, but Samantha bulled her way through and nailed another goal that bounced off the top bar and ended up in the rear net.

Back to the midline they went once more; as the blue team was assembling, and Dinah was studying them to figure out their next play, she was startled when Francine planted herself directly in front of the goal area. Directly in front of Dinah, to be more precise.

Dinah read her intent immediately; she wanted to block Dinah's view of where the ball was, under the pretext of 'covering the goal area'. Which also blocked her view of what was going to happen, so she couldn't clue Briony in on what play to use.

“Francine, get out of the way. I need to see what's going on.”

“No, I'm good right here.” Francine threw her a snarky grin. “Just think of me as a second goalie.”

Dinah moved to the right; Francine moved that way as well. “Francine, I need to see.”

“Give it a rest,” Francine told her. “Just because you fluked a catch doesn't make you Goalie of the Year.”

Dinah was getting desperate. The kickoff had gone, and the mob was stampeding toward the goal line, and she couldn't see, couldn't formulate a play. Taking a chance, she darted forward, past Francine and out of the goal area, so that she could see what was happening.

It was bad, but it wasn't totally lost. Gretel was being strategic, but Briony was thinking on her feet and coordinating with Samantha. The ball was getting close, but -

“For crap's sake, if you're gonna be the goalie, get in the goal area!” Francine grabbed Dinah and almost threw her backward; Dinah stumbled and caught herself on the rear net.

At that moment, Samantha yelled out, “Francine! Stop that ball!”

Francine looked around at the sound of her name, and Dinah lurched to the side; the ball was in free flight, heading for the goal area. Francine ran toward it, intending to kick it not away from the goal area, but into it. And kick it she did; right into Dinah's arms once more.

She threw it back out again, right to the point where Samantha's boot was ready and waiting. Briony barely needed the signal for the play, and the ball was heading up-field once more. Gretel's team was all out of place, and once again, the red team romped in a win. As they came back once more for the kickoff, Dinah took a chance; she pointed at Francine, who hadn't strayed much away from the goal line. Catching Briony's eye, she drew her finger briefly across her throat.

As the team got ready for the kickoff, Briony spoke to Samantha. Samantha listened, shook her head. Briony spoke again, more urgently. Eventually, Samantha nodded, and spoke to Francine. The girl wanted to argue, but Samantha pointed firmly at the side of the field. Reluctantly, Francine trudged off, and the underweight team prepared once more for the kickoff.

<><>​

Even down a player, the game result was no longer in doubt. Red team scored two more goals in style; a last-ditch effort by Gretel's team to force a tie was foiled at the last moment by a concerted play by both Samantha and Briony. Just as it looked like the blue team was going to try again, the whistle blew for full time.

“Well, that was some inspired play,” Ms Hendricks announced as she strolled on to the field. “Samantha, your first half was pretty lacklustre, but you certainly pulled it together in the second. What changed?”

Samantha scratched her head. “I think it was Dinah,” she announced. Dinah froze; she hadn't thought anyone had realised what she was doing, apart from Briony. She studied the girl; no, she didn't know either. So what does she mean?

“What do you mean? The way she saved those goals?” Ms Hendricks studied Dinah. “I have to admit, you were pretty good there.”

“Well, it certainly helped,” Samantha noted. “If she'd let them through, we'd still be behind.”

“See, I told you she was good luck,” Briony told her team captain, putting her arm around Dinah's shoulders and squeezing.

“Yeah well, I should've listened earlier,” Samantha agreed. She put her hand on Dinah's shoulder. “You did good out there. Briony did the right thing, putting you in as goalie.”

Dinah ducked her head and shrugged. “It was easier than it looked.”

“Yeah well.” Samantha mussed Dinah's hair playfully. “You can play on my team any time.”

“Come on!” Briony grabbed Dinah's hand. “Race you to the showers!”

As they pounded up the path toward the school buildings, Dinah felt a warm glow of pride. My power helped win that game.

I wonder what else it can do?


End of Part Two

[A/N 2: Dinah has the QA shard. Once she has a goal in mind, she can assess the motivations and capabilities of people, as regards the goal at hand, and she knows how to integrate them into a team best suited for reaching that goal.]

Part Three

 

Alea Iacta Est

Part Three: Random Encounter Table


“So, you ready for your first day at Arcadia, kiddo?”

“Eh,” Taylor murmured. “It's no big deal.” This was a blatant lie; she was trying to lean back casually in her chair, but one of her feet kept kicking the chair leg repeatedly. Danny noted that she'd hardly touched her breakfast.

“You do realise that it's still school.” His tone was gently teasing.

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Dad, I know. But it won't have Emma or Madison or Sophia there. I'll have half a chance to get my schoolwork done, and my homework finished on time.”

“Do you foresee any problems?”

“Nope.” Sitting up and digging into her inside jacket pocket, she produced a small cloth drawstring bag. She'd sat up for more than an hour, carefully hand-sewing it to a design she had found online. Pulling the drawstring open, she poured several dice out on to her hand. “I ran the numbers, and there's less than five percent chance of anything happening before lunch, and less than ten percent for the whole day.”

“Were you going to take them to school with you?” he asked, amused, nodding toward the dice.

“Uh, sure?” she replied. “I mean, it's okay, isn't it?”

“Well, you don't want to lose them,” he pointed out, “and in my day only gamer geeks took dice to school.”

“What, like Über and L33t?” she asked, puzzled. “Why would they carry dice?”

He chuckled. “No, I mean gamers as in the roleplaying games that I had in the box. We used to bring our character sheets to school so we could play during recess.”

“Huh. Okay. Well, I don't know anyone like that.”

“Going to a new school, kiddo. There might actually be people who play the dice games there; you never know.”

“I wonder if they'd let me sit in?” she mused.

He snorted. “Right up until you rolled your sixth natural twenty in a row, sure.”

“But I wouldn't cheat like that!” She must have seen his amused expression, because hers became indignant. “Well, I wouldn't!”

“Kiddo, when you get right into a game, the morality of 'do I cheat or not' becomes more about 'can I roll high enough to hit that werebear or not'. There's people who would cheat straight off the bat without even thinking about it; I'm pleased that you're at least understanding how bad it is. But don't underestimate the temptation of rolling your dice just a little higher in the middle of a pitched battle.”

She was frowning at him now. “Werebears? Really?”

“Yeah, you know how I found out what they were in the game?” Time for the oldest joke in the book.

“How?”

“Oh, well, we were walking along and we ran into a bunch of them. So we asked them what they were. And they said, 'we're bears'.”

It took her a second or so to get it, then she rolled her eyes and groaned. “Dad. That's worse than your usual jokes.”

“Trust me, you'll run into worse than that.” He shrugged. “Mind you, there might not be anyone who plays those sorts of games at Arcadia. And they might not even allow that sort of thing at the school.”

“Let's find out.” She sorted the dice out, dropping most of them back into the bag. Three were left sitting on her palm, all ten-siders. “Okay, chances that I'll encounter someone there who plays these sorts of games.” The dice rolled off of her palm, and clattered on to the table.

“Taylor, I really don't think -”

“And that's a seventy-eight point three percent chance.”

He blinked. The dice were indeed showing a seven, an eight and a three. “You sure it's in that order?”

“When you get in the car, are you sure you know which is the brake and which is the accelerator?”

“I … okay, you're sure. But it might still be against the rules.”

She scooped the dice up. “Chances that we'd get in trouble for playing games like that in school?”

Once more, the plastic polyhedrons rattled across the tabletop. One, seven and five.

“I can't even guess at that one,” he admitted.

“Five point one seven percent chance,” she clarified.

“Oh. Right. I'm guessing that's for if you keep playing once lunch break is over, or try to sneak in a bit of gaming in class.”

“I'd never do that!” She managed to look even more shocked than at the suggestion that she might cheat.

He was inclined to believe her; after all, she was smart and conscientious. But he'd known others like that too. “Don't assume that the temptation wouldn't be there. Playing RPGs is fun, a lot of fun. You've got a whole peer group who's enjoying it along with you. And the temptation to push the boundaries just a little bit would indeed be there.” He pointed at her dice-bag. “Just remember what you've got to lose. For anyone else, those are just dice. For you, they're quite a bit more.”

Soberly, she nodded. “Okay, Dad. I'll remember.”

“Good.” He glanced at the clock. “It's just about time to go. I'll take you in today; once we've got the bus schedule worked out, you can go in yourself.”

“Okay, thanks, Dad.” She stood and slung her backpack over her shoulder. It was about half-full; most of the books she needed would be waiting for her when she got to Arcadia.

“Oh, and check the mailbox on the way out, will you? I'm waiting on some progress reports.”

“Okay, Dad.” She trotted out through the front door, pulling it closed behind her. Skipping over the rotten step, she headed down to the mailbox. A few letters, and a card from the post office. She was puzzling over the latter when she got into the car.

“What have you got there, kiddo?”

“Not sure.” She handed it over. “Were we waiting on a parcel?”

“Oh, right.” He looked it over, then tucked it into his pocket. “I know what this is. I'll pick it up this afternoon.”

“So what is it?”

He grinned. “You'll see.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “You're no fun.”

“Hey, even if you're able to tell the future with dice, there should still be some surprises left, right?”

“So it's something for me?”

He started the car and pulled it out of the driveway. “Mayyybe.”

“It's something for me, isn't it?”

“Refer to previous answer.” He was grinning broadly now.

“Come on, tell me.”

“Mmmmnope.”

“You're mean and horrible and I hate you.”

“And I'm still not going to tell you.”

“I'll use puppy-dog eyes on you.”

“Those haven't worked since you were eight.”

“I'll roll the dice and find out.”

“Good luck with that.” By now he was chuckling.

“I'll report you to my union rep.”

He laughed so hard that he nearly missed the next turn.

<><>​

They bantered back and forth all the way to Arcadia; by the time they got there, she wasn't even really trying to find out any more. It was just a fun way to pass the time, which they were both rather enjoying. He pulled up outside the front gates of the school, and turned to her. “You okay to find your way home, kiddo?”

“I should be, Dad,” she agreed. “Don't forget to pick up that parcel.”

“Eh.” He gestured carelessly. “I might leave it a few days. It can't be that important.”

“Da-ad. Seriously?”

“Nope, not seriously.” He chuckled. “But the look on your face.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, and climbed out of the car. “See you this afternoon.”

“See you then.” She closed the door; he drove off. Re-settling her backpack on her shoulders, she turned and walked in through the gates of Arcadia.

It was a large school, for all that it held less students than Winslow. From the map she had gotten, it was shaped roughly like the letter 'H', with four wings extending from a central bar. She wasn't quite sure what was between the wings on the other end of the 'H', but on this end there were trees, lunch tables, a couple of basketball hoops and the staff parking lot. She recalled the administration area as being in the middle bar between the wings; hopefully if she went there, someone could tell her where she was supposed to be.

Other students were already wandering around, despite the fact that she was supposed to be early. Don't want to make a bad impression on my first day. She got the odd curious look, but there wasn't the hostility that she was used to; given that it was part way through the school year, a new face would be a source of interest rather than dislike. Also, Emma doesn't attend here. Which makes it a thousand percent better already.

“Hey, get that, would you?”

Jerked abruptly out of her reverie by the shout, she became aware that she had been walking past a group where several guys – plus a couple of girls – had been shooting hoops. They were all looking at her now, as their ball bounced in her direction. Instinctively, she caught it, and walked back toward the group with it. Bouncing it experimentally on the ground a few times, she got a feel for it.

“Hey,” greeted one of the guys. “Thanks. You're new around here?” He was a little taller than her, with dark-blond tousled hair. Almost immediately, she picked him as a jock; he was wearing a singlet and shorts, which did little to disguise the sheen of sweat over his muscular torso.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied after a moment, jerking her eyes away from his chest. A couple of the guys, and one of the girls, chuckled. Oh god, and here I was worried about making a bad impression. “Taylor. Taylor's my name. I'm new here.” She bounced the ball on the ground again, just to draw attention from the blush that she could feel creeping over her cheeks.

“Well, it's nice to meet you, Taylor,” the guy replied cheerfully. He probably gets that all the time. “I'm Rob. That's Nick, Carlos, Kelly, Dean, Sasha and Bernice.” He gestured at the ball. “You play much? You've got the height for it.”

“No, uh, I've never been much for sports.” Her face heated even more. Stop it! “I'm not all that fit.”

“Well, you want to have a shot?” He pointed at the hoop. “If you want, you can come a bit closer.”

I wonder. “I, uh, okay. But I've never done this before.”

Hefting the ball, she threw it. It flew through the air on the arc that she had designated, bounced off the backboard, ran around the hoop once, then fell through. In the silence that followed, punctuated only by the sound of the ball bouncing on the ground, she fancied that she could hear jaws dropping in the entire group.

Rob was the first to speak. “Holy crap. That's the best case of beginner's luck I ever saw.”

“Wow, that was pretty good.”

“Good, hell, that was awesome!”

“Come on, see if you can do it again!”

The others were now crowding around her, offering their congratulations and patting her on the shoulders. She felt nervous; every other time she had been surrounded like this, it had turned out badly for her. “I, uh, I've got to get to the office. It's my first day.”

“That's probably a good idea,” Carlos noted; he was a solidly-built Hispanic boy. “So, Taylor, what year are you in? Junior?”

“Sophomore,” she corrected him.

“Huh. You're tall for it. Well, nice meeting you.” He offered his hand; she shook it.

“Thanks,” she replied. “I'd stick around, but I've really got to get going.”

“Feel free to join in any time we're shooting hoops,” Kelly offered. “Even if that was beginner's luck, you've got an eye for it. I can tell.”

“Yeah, okay, I'll think about it,” she temporised, and made her escape. As she headed for the office, she heard the sound of the ball rebounding off of the backboard once more. An eye for it, hah. I've got a whole power for it.

But it had felt good, really good, to make the ball go where she wanted it. She had an idea what Dad had meant now, the temptation to make herself look just a little better in the eyes of others.

That she could shoot hoops with the best of them, she had no doubt now. She wasn't fit enough to play a full game yet, but she was pretty certain that she could put the ball through the hoop from anywhere she could reach it. Of course, she couldn't join a basketball team; she could imagine her father's reaction if she did that. They'd both know that every time she scored a hoop, she would be cheating with her power.

No. I'd better just pass it off as a fluke. Next time I do that, I need to miss.

<><>​

“Hello, Taylor,” the principal greeted her. “It's always good to meet a new face. But can you tell me something?”

“Uh, what's that, sir?”

“I've seen your scholastic aptitude marks from middle school.” He tilted his head slightly. “You were good enough to get a place here when you began your freshman year. What made you go to Winslow instead?”

Taylor ducked her head. “My best friend was going there, so I went there to be with her.”

“Hmm. And she's not there any more?”

“She's not my best friend any more,” Taylor replied. “She's friends with the girl who tried to shove me into the locker.”

“Ah,” he noted, in tones of enlightenment. “That. Well, I've been filled in on what was going on at Winslow, and I will repeat what I told your father; we do not condone that sort of thing at all here.”

“Uh, thank you,” she replied awkwardly. “I've already met some of the students here. They were nice.”

“That's good, that's good,” he told her heartily. “Now, is there anything you wanted to know? Any questions?”

“Not really. I just came here to get my final class schedule and my locker number, stuff like that.”

“Ah, for that sort of thing, I'll have to pass you on to my overworked and under-appreciated vice principal.” He stood up and offered his hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Taylor. I have a feeling you'll get along here.”

She shook it. “Well, so far? It's looking pretty good.”

He was still chuckling when she left his office.

<><>​

Vice Principal Howell wasn't all that impressive looking, but she was certainly competent. Taylor had her class schedule in one hand, and a map of the school with the pertinent classrooms shown in coloured marker in the other, as the vice principal led the way to the locker that she would be using.

“We've got half an hour before the bell rings for the first period,” Ms Howell informed her briskly. “Bathrooms are marked out on your map. I've taken the liberty of placing the books we're supplying you with into your locker. Your locker combination, as well as your school email address and password, are on this piece of paper.”

Taylor accepted it. “Uh, thank you, ma'am.”

Howell, a mildly unattractive woman with bleached blonde hair, wearing a floral blouse and colourful scarf, offered an austere smile which seemed to pass for humour with her. “You're welcome, Miss Hebert. Now, I'll leave you to settle in.”

Taylor watched her walk away, then turned to the locker. Entering the combination, she opened it up; it was of a different pattern to the Winslow model, with multiple shelves that would prevent anyone from being shoved into it. As the vice principal had indicated, a few of these shelves were already laden with books. She unloaded the books she already had, as well as her lunch box, placing the latter on a shelf on its own. Then, consulting her class schedule, she located the books for her first three classes and put those back into her bag, along with the papers she had been given. Finally, she pulled off her jacket and stuffed it into the bottom shelf, that being the only empty one left.

“Oh, hey,” someone commented from beside her. “Just transferred?”

Looking around and up, she saw a red-haired girl eyeing her with a certain amount of curiosity. Her first impression was Emma? What's she doing here? But then she looked again, and saw that it wasn't Emma; the girl's features were pleasant rather than striking, and she wasn't nearly as well-developed as Taylor's ex-best friend.

“Uh, yeah,” she agreed, standing up once more and pushing her locker closed. It didn't want to go, so she opened it, and saw that her dice-bag had fallen out of her jacket pocket and was getting in the way of the door. Bending down again, she retrieved it and closed the door properly this time. Turning to the redhead, she went on, “Is this place always so clean?”

The other girl looked around. “I guess. We have a roving janitor. He doesn't miss much. Where'd you come in from?” She leaned more closely, and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Are you a Ward?” Her eyes sparkled with mischief and interest.

Taylor had to smile. “Uh, sorry, no. Not a Ward. And I'm here from Winslow. It was a case of them transferring me, or suffering a massive lawsuit. Bullying.”

“Well, that explains the cleanliness comment then,” the redheaded girl observed. “I thought that there might be ninja cleaners, polishing the corridor behind me, and I never knew about it.”

Taylor snorted. “Ninja cleaners? Really?”

“Well, it could happen. So, what's your first – ooh. Is that a dice bag?”

Taken aback, Taylor glanced down at the bag she still held. “I, uh, yes?”

“So what do you play? Do you have glitter dice? I love glitter dice. Do you prefer meat shields or rogue types? Or wait, I bet you prefer clerics. Back, foul creature!” she proclaimed, striking a stance. “Or hey, it's fine if you like casters instead. Casters are cool, too.”

“Wow, no, I don't actually play, or rather, I've never played,” Taylor protested, trying not to laugh at the other girl's rapid-fire delivery.

The redhead frowned. “So what are you doing with the dice?” Before Taylor could react, the girl had plucked the bag from her hand and poured out the contents into her own palm. “Yup, that's gaming dice, all right. And not brand new either. These babies have seen some use.”

“Yeah, they're my dad's,” Taylor admitted, retrieving the dice and putting them back into the bag. “He's showed me the games he used to play, but I have no idea how to play them. I just like carrying the dice around. It's fun to roll them.”

The girl tilted her head. “Well, I have to admit, that's different. But hey, I've got a few different systems. They're not hard to learn. Would you be interested in playing? I'm trying to get a group together, and it's so hard to get people to commit. Say yes, please please please.”

Taylor had to admit that she had a very effective line in puppy-dog eyes. “I … suppose,” she agreed, somewhat dubiously.

“Yay!” Taylor found herself being spontaneously hugged. It wasn't something she was exactly prepared for. “This is so awesome!”

She was quite literally saved by the bell; at that moment, the chiming sounded through the halls of Arcadia, and the redhead let her go. “Aw darn.”

Taylor took pity on her. “Look, I've got to get to home room, but I'll see you at lunch, right?”

“Sure thing.” The other girl lit up all over again. “Say, what's your name, anyway?”

“Taylor. Taylor Hebert.”

“Cool. I'm Annette Campbell. See you at lunch.” And off she dashed, leaving Taylor to shake her head and pull out the map to find her home room.

Well, it's certainly not going to be boring around here.

<><>​

Sophia Hess leaned back in her chair at the Wards monitor station; part of her attention was on the screens before her, but mainly she was intent on her phone.

• can't believe they let us have our phones back. That was Madison.
• Yeah, I know, right? But whats with Emma?
• Dunno. She hasnt talked to me either.

Sophia frowned. Better clear your phone. Wipe all those texts about Hebert.

• Wipe everything? She thought she detected a tone of doubt in the letters on the screen.
• Fuck yes everything. If they get her phone but ours are clear, they cant prove shit. All we have to do is say we dont know anything about it.
• Crap. I got some good pics too.
• Wipe them as well. She shook her head. Dumbass, she thought but did not type. Everything.
• Okay ill do it now.

“Sophia.”

The voice behind her was mild, but she still whirled around, screening her phone with her hand. “Christ, Aegis. Did you want to give me a heart attack?”

“Sorry.” He didn't look sorry. He looked like he was secretly pleased with himself for making her jump. She suspected that he'd flown up behind her so as not to make any noise. “The Director wants to see you.”

She made a rude noise. “What's Miss Piggy want now?”

He frowned. “You're on shaky ground as it is, Sophia. I wouldn't get in the habit of saying things like that. It's disrespectful to a woman who's put her all into leading the PRT here for the last ten years.”

“Can't have been,” she snarked. “If she'd put her all into it, the Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB'd be all behind bars, and the Merchants would be selling souvenirs down on the Boardwalk.”

“Sophia.” There was a warning tone in his voice now. “I know you're going through a difficult time. That's why I asked you to not disparage Director Piggot. Now I'm telling you.”

“Or what?” she challenged him. “You'll report me?”

He met her gaze steadily. “Yes. I will. If you keep going the way you are.”

She glared back at him for a long moment. “Fine. What does Her Highness Madame Piggot the Director want from me?”

“For you to go to Conference Room Six, up on -”

“I know where ConSix is,” she interrupted him. “I've been here six months, not six days.”

<><>​

“Well, Corporal McKenzie's waiting outside to escort you there anyway,” Aegis told her.

Predictably, she grimaced. “I just told you, I know my way around. I don't need a nursemaid. For fuck's sake, I was on my own for more than a year before I joined the Wards!”

“Not my call.” He took refuge in bluntness. “But you are currently in the shit, so I'd suggest that you don't kick up too much trouble. Just let the corporal escort you to where you need to be, and make it at least look like you're cooperating. Okay?”

Again, she glared at him. “Fine.” Turning back to the monitor console, she picked up her mask and put it on. “Someone better take over from me. Wouldn't want the console to be unmanned.”

“I'll take care of it,” Aegis assured her. He watched her head over to the doors and slap the contact panel. They hummed open, then shut solidly behind her.

“Wow, what's going on?” asked Vista; she was sitting at one of the tables, playing cards with Clockblocker.

“I'll explain on the way; you're coming with me.” He headed for the doors.

“What?” exclaimed Clockblocker, as she got up from the table. “I had a killer hand, too.”

“Which reminds me,” Aegis noted, turning back toward Clockblocker. “You're on monitor duty till I get back.”

“Aw, man,” complained the white-clad teen. “I just got off monitor duty when Sophia got here.” But he got up anyway and headed over to the console.

“I'll make it up to you,” Aegis promised, slapping the contact panel. “Come on, Vista. We haven't got much time.”

“But where are we going?”

He grinned. “You'll see.”

<><>​

Corporal McKenzie seemed to be a typical stolid PRT guard; he escorted her into the lift then stood, watching the doors as it ascended. I haven't got much time. Behind his back, Sophia slid her phone out, and scrolled through the options until she reached 'factory reset'.

The lift came to a halt, and the corporal turned to her. “Shadow Stalker, down this way please.”

“Coming, coming.” She pressed the button to go ahead with the factory reset, then shut the phone down and replaced it in her belt pouch. Now read anything off of it.

With a lighter step – a weight taken off of her shoulders, if not a lighter conscience – she strode along the corridor, ignoring Corporal McKenzie's directions, until she came to the door in question. He went to open it for her; she darted forward and grabbed the handle first, turning it and pushing the door open.

Conference Room Six was on a corner of the building; floor to ceiling windows dominated two walls. She entered, then stopped short when she saw who was waiting for her. Behind her, Corporal McKenzie stopped at the door.

"What's going on here?" she demanded. "I've been on monitor duty for the last week, with no-one telling me nothing, and now this?" She turned to Director Piggot, sitting next to Deputy Director Renick at the head of the table. "You brought my mother in on this?"

"I contacted her, Shadow Stalker," Renick informed her firmly. "She chose to attend. Come in and sit down, please."

She didn't really have much of a choice; the guard behind her was blocking the doorway, and she was pretty sure that the repercussions would be a little more stringent than a week of monitor duty if she cut and ran, now. Bluff and deny. They can't prove anything really bad against me. And I just wiped my phone, so that's off my back as well.

"Fine." She walked down the length of the table, her mother watching her with worried eyes, past the PRT twit who was supposed to be her minder, past Triumph. There was a chair set up between her mother and the PRT drone, with her back to the windows, but she grabbed another one from where it sat against the wall, and pulled it into position at the far end of the table from Pig-oh. Pulling her cloak into position, she seated herself, then rested her elbows on the table and stared up its length at the Director. "So let's talk," she invited.

The Pigmeister looked as though she'd been sucking on a lemon, which didn't change matters very much, in Sophia's opinion. "Shadow Stalker," she began. "Last week, you were caught attempting to force a girl into her locker, said locker containing a significant amount of biohazard waste. Caught by the victim's father, and the principal. What do you say to that?"

"It was a prank," Sophia explained, her voice earnest. "You know, pranks? Funny stuff?" Sense of humour? Oh wait, you had yours surgically removed. To make way for all the fat.

"It was anything but a prank," Renick declared, tapping a sheaf of papers in front of him. "The material in her locker was tested, and found to be highly toxic. Had she gotten it into any cuts, there would have been a significant chance of infection. Serious infection."

Sophia gestured airily. "Hey. Not my problem what Hebert chooses to keep in her locker."

"So this is your contention, that the Hebert girl had somehow emptied the contents of no less than three biohazard containers into her locker, sometime over the Christmas break." This was Piggot again, putting her oar in.

"Well, how else would it have gotten in there?" asked Sophia. "And before you ask me why she would've done it, who knows? She's a loner weirdo freak."

"Well, here's the thing," Renick stated. "We have a large amount of material from Taylor Hebert, dating from before this incident, accusing you, one Emma Barnes, and a Madison Clements, of many more bullying activities. Now, we know that you have a connection with Ms Barnes through her father, and anecdotal evidence has you being friends with both girls at Winslow. Do you deny that you know both of them well?"

"Oh, I know 'em," Sophia agreed. "But any accusations are bullshit. She probably wrote that shit up over Christmas after filling her locker full of shit, just so that she could point the finger at us and say that we did it."

"True," Piggot agreed. "She could have. This is a valid point." She paused, just long enough for Sophia to begin to relax. "Shadow Stalker, please pass me your phone."

"What?"

"Your cell phone. You carry it in costume. Pass it to me. Now."

All of a sudden, Pig-oh didn't seem so useless and flabby any more. Her eyes bored into Sophia's. Sophia pulled out the work phone and skidded it down the table. "Here you go."

Piggot captured it with her hand without looking. "Now your other one."

"What?" Apprehension washed through Sophia, despite the fact that she'd just cleared it. Can't be seen to be giving up too easily. "No way. That's my private, personal phone. You can't touch that."

Piggot slapped a sheet of paper on to the table. "This outlines my duties and capabilities as Director of this branch of the PRT. You will find that I most certainly can confiscate and examine any item that you carry as part of your costume. If you have that phone on you right now, pass it down to me." Her voice took on a harsher note. "Or I can have you searched. Whichever you prefer."

Sophia's doubts that Piggot would do such a thing were rapidly fading. "Okay, fine."

Piggot didn't let up on her. “I will give you fair warning. We will be searching both phones for any evidence of bullying activity regarding the Hebert girl.”

Carelessly, Sophia shrugged, as she got the phone out. “Won't find anything.”

“I wouldn't be so sure.” Piggot indicated Armsmaster and Kid Win. “Our resident Tinkers seem to think that they can dig out the most buried data on a phone, even information that's supposedly been wiped.”

Oh shit. Chris is a dweeb, but he's a smart dweeb. And Armsmaster's been doing this as long as I've been alive. Fuck, I should have lost the phone. Destroyed it. At least removed the SIM.

She paused, juggling the phone as she thought rapidly. “Look, can I just -”

"No." The word was final. "You can't just anything. Interfere with that phone in any way, and I will be forced to presume that you are destroying evidence."

She tried to force an embarrassed expression; it didn't seem to be working. "Look, there's stuff I've got on there. Delicate stuff. Selfies and stuff like that. Pics of me pretending to make out with other girls. Stuff I don't want anyone seeing. I've just got to delete that stuff, all right?"

"No, it is not all right. Triumph, confiscate Shadow Stalker's phone and bring it to me. Immediately."

Rory got up and moved down toward her. "Sophia, hand it over. Don't make this hard on yourself."

Jumping up, Sophia backed off, her cell-phone behind her back. "Get away from me. They're trying to railroad me, can't you see that?"

"Sophia, I just want to sort this out." Triumph came closer, his hand out. "This doesn't have to get any worse. Give me the phone."

Sophia brought the phone around in front of her, made as if to hand it over, but pulled it back at the last moment. Triumph advanced on her; she jumped back, going to shadow for a moment, and reforming in the corner of the room, where two windows met.

"You realise, the more we dance around like this, the worse it looks for you," Triumph pointed out. "You really want Kid Win and Armsmaster looking at your selfies?"

"Well, fuck you, and fuck Kid Win," she spat. Turning to the window, she went to shadow and stuck her hand through the glass, then let the phone go. Pulling her hand back again, she resumed normal form. "Whoops, I accidentally dropped it. Sorry about that." It was a long way to the pavement; she wasn't quite sure if the phone would turn solid first, and shatter into a million pieces, or if it would carry on into the concrete and be lost forever. Either way, there's no way they'll find the SIM.

Triumph advanced on her, what little she could see of his face was set in grim lines. "Sophia, that was monumentally stupid. Hold out your arms. I want to check your pouches."

"Sure. Want me to bend and spread 'em, too?" She knew that she was still in trouble, but without the phone, they had no real evidence against her. I'll just have to keep my nose clean for a while …

"No. Just the pouches." He delved into each of the pouches, then turned to the Director. "She dropped it all right, ma'am."

"Very well," the Director responded. "Be seated, the both of you." She seemed remarkably calm, considering that Sophia had just put one over on her. "Shadow Stalker, you've just proven that you can't be trusted in this matter."

"So I texted Emma and Madison a few times. So what?" Sophia shrugged. "Doesn't mean we conspired against Hebert."

Renick leaned forward. "The information we've been given indicates otherwise."

"But it's her word against mine. Mine, Emma's and Madison's. Plus any number of other people. Or don't eyewitness accounts matter here?"

"Given that several people just saw you throw your phone away to avoid it being examined for evidence, I would say that they do," Piggot noted.

"There was nothing on that phone that was illegal, and you can't prove that there was," Sophia stated flatly. "Burden of proof is on you, not me."

"So, about that," Aegis announced, opening the door and entering. "One phone, in good condition, Director." He strolled over to where Piggot sat, and handed her a phone; Sophia identified it, to her growing consternation, as the one that she had just dropped out the window.

"Well done, Aegis," Renick praised him. "You had no trouble catching it?"

"A little," admitted the Ward. "Needed some tricky work by Vista to make sure it didn't fall through the pavement, but I managed to catch it without breaking it. Screen's cracked a little, but it seems to be working fine otherwise."

"What the fuck?" blurted Shadow Stalker. "What the actual fuck? You fucking set me up?"

"No, you set yourself up," Triumph snapped. "We just let you do it. If you'd handed your phone over to start with … "

"No!" screamed Sophia. "No fucking way! You don't beat me! I don't lose!" She launched herself forward along the length of the table, going to shadow, reaching for the phone …

… and the Director lifted a taser from under the table, and shot her with it, at point-blank range. The charge from the batteries grounded through her immaterial form, and she turned solid, juddering with the shock. Vaguely she was aware of being bundled from the table, and her arms being secured together.

<><>​

When she came back to herself, she was seated between her mother and the PRT twit. The PRT guard was standing behind her chair. Aegis was sitting where she had been. Her mother was looking at her with a mixture of pity and resignation on her face. Sophia hated that look. Her phone was still sitting on the table; Armsmaster and Kid Win were no longer in the room. Her wrists were fastened together in front of her, with high-tech cuffs; they were humming slightly. She didn't need to guess what they did.

“What …?” she mumbled, gesturing at the phone.

“Oh, are you wondering why we aren't opening up your phone and having a good look at all your dirty secrets?” asked the Director. “It's because we already have.”

Sophia blinked. “... uh?”

Piggot sighed. “We looked into your phone, and the other two girls', when they were first confiscated, a week ago. We got all the text messages.”

This wasn't adding up. “Madison -”

“- never got her phone back. We've had a police officer answering your texts. This has all been a sting with a single, solitary aim in mind.”

Her head was clearing; when she spoke, her voice was bitter. “To entrap me.”

“No.” Renick's tone was firm. “To give you a chance to give yourself up. To see if you were salvageable. I talked the Director into it -”

“ - against my better judgement, I must say,” muttered Piggot.

“- but between us, we chose to allow you a week to come to your senses, to confess what you'd done, to accept your punishment.”

Sophia shook her head. “So wait, you've sharpened the axe, and you were waiting on me to put my head under it? Fuck that.”

“Well, it was either administrative punishment, if you had confessed before we faced you with it, or back to juvenile detention,” Renick stated. “This little charade today was intended to make you jump, one way or the other.” His tone was regretful. “It looks like you made your choice, sorry to say.”

Director Piggot raised her head. “Wards do not act in this way, not on my watch. Your probation has been violated, and you will be going back to juvenile detention."

Sophia shook her head. "No."

Renick raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I think the word is 'yes'. Because we can."

"No," repeated Sophia. "I didn't do it as Shadow Stalker. I did it as Sophia Hess. You can't violate my probation on that."

"A legal fiction," Renick stated. "You did it; whether you did it as Shadow Stalker or as Sophia Hess is beyond the point."

"No, actually, there is a legal separation," the Director corrected him. "I wanted to be sure about this, so I looked it up. The only way we can prove that she did this as Shadow Stalker would be if she used her powers to do it. It's to do with the 'use of powers in the commission of a crime' clause."

"Well then, I didn't," Sophia declared. "Easy, done."

"Indeed?" queried Piggot. "So how exactly did you get all that toxic waste into her locker?"

Sophia saw the trap coming, and thought fast. "Opened her locker. Put the stuff in. Closed the locker."

"That would've been difficult at the best of times," Renick objected. "To leave nothing lying around … "

"We cleaned up, after. It's how we did it."

"So, you opened the locker. Not Ms Barnes, not Ms Clements. You." Piggot's voice was intent.

Sophia nodded. "Yeah. Me."

"Very well, what was the combination?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question. What was the combination?"

Sophia felt herself trapped. "I … uh, I don't remember."

"Well, you obviously went to the lengths to find it out, so that you could remember it at the time," Piggot pointed out, almost reasonably for her. "And now you're going to tell me that you've forgotten it in the meantime? If I had Ms Barnes or Ms Clements questioned over this, would they also say that you opened the locker, using the combination? Would they be likely to remember the combination that you used?" Her voice rose to a shout at the end. "Or would they simply state that you used your powers?"

She glared at Shadow Stalker. "Your life is going to be investigated. Every last bit of it. We will be prosecuting you. You will be going to juvenile detention." A gesture. "Take her away."

The last thing she saw as Corporal McKenzie lifted her from her chair and marched her from the room was her mother's look of pity.

She hated that.

<><>​

Lunch break at Arcadia was a more pleasant affair than at Winslow. Taylor had retrieved her box lunch, gotten a bottle of fruit juice from a vending machine, and met up with Annette. The redhead had promptly decided that they'd eat outside, so they found a free table. Despite the time of year, the sun was pleasantly warm. While Taylor started on her lunch, Annette began searching through her backpack.

"Annette's an interesting name," Taylor commented idly. "How did you end up with it?"

"Oh, that's simple," the redhead told her, still rummaging. "I got named after Mom's BFF in college. They were really close for years, then she got married and they drifted apart."

"What, your mom?"

"No, the bestie. Mom's a free spirit. She does what she wants. Marriage isn't her thing."

"Oh, uh … " Taylor felt awkward. "Sorry, I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry about it," Annette assured her. "I never do. Oh, hey, here we go." She plopped a stack of paper on the table between them. "Character sheets."

Taylor eyed them; they bore a certain amount of resemblance to the sheets that her father had stored in his 'gaming box' as he called it. These ones, however, hadn't been filled out. "They're all different."

"Because they're from different games, duh. I've got the rules for 'em all. We can play any one you like."

This was beginning to look daunting. "Uh, I don't know anything about any of them."

"Okay, we can work with that." Annette singled a sheet out. "This one's from Earth Aleph. It's pretty good. It's derived from this one, but they've sorted out some of the problems."

"Okay, if you say it's all right, we can do that one." Taylor picked up the sheet and looked at it. "What's a, uh, 'bab'?"

"That's an acronym. It stands for 'Base Attack Bonus'. It's basically how good you are at hitting things. Depending on what your character's class and level are, that sort of thing."

"Uh, class?" Taylor had a mental image of a fantasy warrior, complete with ridiculously oversized sword, hunched over a desk in a schoolroom, learning … what? How to fight dragons?

"Her occupation, that sort of thing. Fighter, paladin, ninja, whatever. Fighter types get a high BAB, while squishy classes like spellcasters get a lower BAB." She actually spelled it out, and Taylor felt a little silly for pronouncing it like a name.

"Oh." Taylor thought about that. "So if you're playing a Brute type class, you get a higher BAB, is that it?"

Annette considered that. "Yeah, pretty much. But this isn't about capes. Though I have to admit, some of the stuff they get up to in the higher levels is pretty cape-worthy."

"Okay, sounds interesting," Taylor conceded. "I'll want to read the rules, of course."

"All right." Annette pumped her fist in the air. "We'll have you kickin' ass and takin' names in no time."

Taylor had to grin; the redhead's enthusiasm was infectious. "We'll see."

<><>​

Annette's friends were just as geeky as she was, and just as fun. As soon as the redhead introduced her as “Taylor, who's interested in gaming,” she was more or less instantly included in the group. A lot of the terminology went over her head, but her dice bag was mentioned, so she brought it out and the dice were examined carefully. She even got a few admiring comments when she admitted to making it herself.

They strolled out through the school gates, chattering animatedly; not only about gaming, but also about books, comics, TV shows and movies that they were interested in. Taylor could hold her own on the book side of things, and a few of the TV shows and movies were ones she'd seen, but by the time they got outside, she had a dozen or more titles that she 'just had' to see.

To her surprise, she saw her father waiting for her in the parking lot. “Oh, wow,” she blurted.

“What? What's the matter?” asked Annette.

“Nothing. Just that Dad's here to pick me up,” Taylor replied, waving to get his attention.

“Aww, I was looking forward to riding on the bus with you,” the redhead replied with a mock pout.

“It's only for today,” Taylor hastened to explain. “After this, I'll be using the bus.”

“Excellent,” Annette declared. “More gaming time for all.”

“Well, I'll see you later, guys,” Taylor told them.

“Yeah, I'll bring the rulebook tomorrow,” Annette promised. “It's pretty solid. You'll be a couple of days reading it.”

“My mom was an English professor,” Taylor informed her. “Reading is not something I have a problem with.”

“Sounds good. See you tomorrow.” Annette surprised her with another hug; Taylor awkwardly hugged her back.

“See you then. Bye, guys.”

In the midst of a chorus of 'bye, Taylor', she jogged over to where her father was waiting.

“Well,” he commented. “It looks like you haven't wasted any time making new friends.”

“It's more like I got ambushed,” she confessed. “Annette – the redhead girl there – kind of grabbed me and wouldn't let me get away.”

“Annette, huh?” Dad asked as she got into the car.

“Yeah, she's pretty hard to stop once she gets going. A lot of fun, though. She introduced me to all of her friends, and they're all a bit nerdy like me, so we've got stuff in common.”

“Well, that sounds really nice.” He started the car and began wending his way out of the parking lot. “School fees are going to be a little higher for Arcadia, but I think it'll be well worth it.”

“Yeah, I've got a good bit of homework, but I think it'll be cool.” Taylor leaned back and sighed. “Wow, it's been a tiring day. Tiring but good.”

Dad's voice was teasing. “So, too tired to swing by the post office?”

She sat up immediately. “No, god no. Post office, now, please.”

He grinned at her; she wrinkled her nose at him.

<><>​

“Hi.”

Taylor opened her eyes and looked up from where she was leaning against the wall outside the post office. Dad had gone inside to pick up the parcel, but she had chosen to enjoy the sunlight some more. A girl of about twelve or thirteen was looking at her intently.

“Uh, hi?” she replied. “Can I help you?”

“Sure you can,” the girl replied, then glanced around. “We can help each other. You've got super-powers, and so have I. I'm looking at forming a team; with our abilities, we can do a lot to help this city and the people in it. I'd like you on the team. Are you interested?”


End of Part Three

Part Four