A/N: Busy, busy, busy. It's been a rough journey, getting this far. Thanks for putting up with the wait. Argh!
Here it is, the revised version. Yeesh, this took WAY too long.
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January 7, 2011
"Let me out!" Taylor screamed, the banging echoing faintly in the hall. It was pretty difficult to hear her, actually, considering she'd been pressed face-first into the trash. "Please god let me out it's all over me! They're all over me! Let me out! Oh God let me out!"
Emma laughed. Finally cracking the facade of indifference made it worth the effort. It was so much better when Taylor reacted. When she cried, or screamed, or sobbed, or broke down. Emma couldn't keep the grin off her face. "Don't worry Taylor. They'll keep you company for a while. You needed to make new friends anyway."
She shared laughs with Sophia as they walked away, Taylor's screams fading into coughs and hacks, retching echoing out of the confines of the locker. The screams weren't that loud, anyway. The pads and tampons were muffling things nicely.
Sophia's voice was smug. "Damn good idea, Ems. I'll let her out by next period. Maybe. This is just too funny."
Emma nodded, unable to keep the smile off her face. Totally worth the effort.
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"What do you mean she's dead!?"
Sophia's voice hissed at her, the alleyway filled with both snow and frozen garbage. "Hebert's fucking dead. I checked between periods. Nobody let her out, she's a stone cold corpse. I went through her bag, she had a notebook filled with all the shit we pulled on her. Don't worry, I took care of it."
Emma reeled. It was impossible, wasn't it? "She's still there?! We have to get her out! It's only been six hours, she could be..."
Sophia slapped her. "We don't do a goddamn thing! We keep away from that fucking school. I checked, she's a goddamn corpse. Going back there is only going to get us caught and hung by the cops. She's dead, we got to protect ourselves now. We're survivors, Ems. We ain't going to be dragged down by her. She's a weakling. We gotta think about us."
It was nearly impossible to breathe. Emma's mind was in a whirl. It couldn't be, it was just supposed to break through that shell. The facade of indifference that her former friend built up. It was supposed to just get Taylor to react. It wasn't supposed to end with...
Sophia stared at her, her voice intense. "They'll find her. Janitors are fuckin' lazy, but with that smell? They'll find her by tonight, maybe tomorrow morning at the latest. Give me your phone."
Emma blinked at the seeming jump in topic. "Wh-what? Why?"
Sophia growled. "Your phone. We need to wipe the texts, all of em. The cops might look into it, hell the PRT may look into it. We wipe the data. Everything. Wipe the texts now. You sent me the fuckin' idea for the whole locker shit over the texts, we need to erase it all."
Emma paled at the thought. Quickly, she dug out her phone, opening the texts and seeing her words stare back at her.
EB: Hey S! I've got this great idea on how to break through to Taylor! I swear, it'll make her cry!
SH: No shit? MESsing with Hebert's been boring lately. Whatcha got?
SH: Stupidcaps.
EB: Know the wastebin in the girl's bathroom? It's filled with used tampons and pads. Why don't we fill her locker with it?
SH: Awww, nasty! Yeah, I can do that. You know me, easy easy.
EB: Even better. If she opens it to look, we put her in there. She's skinny, she'll fit. Put the trash where it belongs.
SH: Damn girl. Where do you come up with this shit?
EB: It's a gift. We need to get Mads in on this.
EB: Not answering.
SH: Ah, yeah. She's sick with the flu. Probably playing games. She's not important to this anyway. We got this.
Numbly, Emma handed over the phone. Sophia fiddled with it, quickly wiping the texts away. Erasing everything Emma had done. Emma trusted Sophia with a lot. With everything. With her life.
Maybe it was best to trust her now.
Sophia handed the phone back. "The cops ask anything, don't ask for a lawyer. Only if you get arrested. That'll make em suspicious. Just play innocent airhead. You fuck this up, I'll fuck you up before they ever get close to me."
What?
The ground could have swallowed Emma at that moment and she wouldn't have noticed.
Sophia must have seen something in her eyes. "I fuckin' mean it, Ems. We keep quiet, this shit will blow over. Things will be fine, we forget Hebert like everything else. Nobody cares about her. We just keep quiet, I'll do what I can to make sure there's nothin' left for them to find. We kept erasing those email accounts as we went. Just one more wipe and we're clear. They won't suspect us, and Winslow's a hellhole anyway. All I gotta do is stir up the gangs and they'll do half our work for us." Sophia smiled. The smile of a hungry shark. A smile that had no concern for anyone else. "Trust me, Ems. We got this. You're my friend, I'll cover your back if you cover mine, but if you screw me on this..."
That expression on Sophia's face Emma had always enjoyed before. It meant that Sophia was about to do something. Usually something painful to someone. For the first time in a long time, when Emma looked into Sophia's eyes, she felt fear. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emma just nodded. There was simply no other response.
Anything else would only provoke Sophia.
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January 10, 2011
The park was empty. In the midst of winter, there weren't too many people out and about, braving the cold if they didn't have to. It made it simple enough to make things clear to the last loose end.
Madison's eyes were filled with fear, her voice rough and weak, not yet fully recovered from the sickness that had sapped her strength. "Oh god, oh god... she's fucking dead!? What the hell did you do!?"
Sophia stood right in front of the cringing, smaller girl. "Yeah, she's dead, Madison. And you're going to keep your damn mouth shut."
Emma stood silent. She could see Sophia's arm twitching, almost instinctively reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. Not that she'd need a weapon to deal with Madison. The other girl was shorter than they were, too small, too weak to manage anything. She'd break her fists on Sophia's face.
Madison cringed away from the taller girl, shaking like a leaf. Emma...couldn't bring herself to help. If she talked, they'd all go down. Let Sophia make the threat. It was just a show, and Madison needed to believe it. Emma needed her to believe it.
Sophia's voice was harsh. "If the cops so much as breathe in my direction, you'll get what Hebert got. And that's after I go through your family. Your mom, your dad, your brothers, your sisters, your fucking cat. I've handled enough that they won't look our way if none of us talk about it. Now all this shit'll go away if you just. Shut. Up."
Madison's lip trembled as she met Sophia's eyes. "We can't just cover this up! This is serious!"
Sophia growled as she pushed Madison off her feet, dumping the smaller girl into a snowdrift. "You say nothing. I ain't hanging for you, and I ain't hanging for Hebert. Hebert's dead. Nothing we can do to change that. Now we got to think about ourselves. If you fuck me, I'll fuck you worse and harder. I won't go down because of fucking Hebert. We got one corpse. It's not going to make things any worse if there's four or five more. And even if you're taken in before I get to you, I'll do everything I fucking can to make sure you hang too. Don't fucking push me. You got that!?"
The petite brunette coughed and spluttered, trying to scramble away from Sophia. She looked at Emma, seeking some help, some assistance from anywhere.
Emma kept her face impassive, unhelpful, uncaring. It was the only way. Though that was hard to convince herself of, with her heart pounding a mile a minute.
Finally, weakly, Madison spoke, her voice coming out in a racking cough. "G-got it."
Sophia's grin was feral. "Good. Glad we could make things clear. I'll be keeping an eye on you, Mads. Make sure you tread lightly."
Together, Sophia and Emma walked away, Madison's sobs echoing behind them.
Sophia's voice was filled with satisfaction as they walked out of earshot. "See, what I tell ya? Spin a story, and she'll fold."
Emma faintly nodded. It was the only thing she could do. She knew that tone that Sophia had used.
Sophia hadn't been bluffing. If she was caught, if she had the chance, she'd make sure she did as much damage as she could. They'd just be more bodies left in the wake, if Sophia thought it had to be done. She'd do it to cover up the death of Taylor, just as she'd do what she had to to cover up the death of that gangbanger.
Four or five more corpses. Just add them to the pile. Emma wouldn't say a word. She couldn't. It wasn't worth the risk. She just had to hope that her father's grumbling about moving the hell out of Brockton Bay would come to fruition.
And she wouldn't say a word. Sophia wasn't the only one who'd hang.
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January 23, 2011
The snow drifted down on Taylor's grave. Emma couldn't help but stare at the simple slab of stone, marking the place where her body lay. Mister Hebert stood there, before his daughter's grave like a living statue. He moved, he breathed, but he didn't react to her or her father's presence. He hadn't done anything but stare at the coffin, snowflakes slowly falling into the open grave.
She barely heard her father's words as he tried to comfort his friend, sincere, unknowing condolences.
Not knowing his daughter was a murderer.
"I'm so sorry, Mister Hebert. I'm sorry she's gone." Her words came out, thick with emotion. Self-loathing. Guilt. Grief. All for one simple little thought.
She could barely hear his reply, filled with grief and pain. "Thank you, Emma. You're..." He visibly struggled to speak, his entire body beginning to shake. "You're a good kid."
That hard-won sentence hit Emma like a bullet. She could barely listen as she heard her father talking about their plans to leave Brockton Bay. She felt so horrible about this. So afraid. So fake. So...so...
Weak.
I'm not good. I'm very much not good at all. I'm not good, I'm not strong. I'm...
Sophia's voice rang in her ears. Words she used to take comfort in.
"You ain't weak, are ya? A weakling would have gone along with those damn thugs. A weakling would have let them cut them up, just for the chance to breathe another minute. You fought."
Maybe leaving would be for the best. She reinvented herself once before. She could do it again. She could do it without Sophia. It would be hard, but there wasn't any other choice.
She could do it. She could fight. She would fight.
Even if the enemy was her own feelings.
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January 29, 2011
Emma shivered in the cold, watching the ice break against the shores of Brockton Bay's harbor.
She looked down at the object in her hands. Taylor's flute, covered in shit and rendered unusable, wrapped in a plastic garbage bag. Sophia had done exactly what Emma told her to do. Sophia stole it, probably would have simply kept it as a little trophy of what they were doing. Or maybe just threw it out. She wouldn't have had any care with someone else's property. It wouldn't have occurred to Sophia to damage it, to torment Taylor with it.
Sophia had destroyed it, but it was Emma who told her to. She had wanted to prove to herself that she left her old, weak self behind. To say goodbye to that friendship from childhood.
Emma opened the bag, peeling away the packing tape that had kept it sealed. The stench hit her, sealed inside for months. The foulness had long since dried, but that didn't help much. Emma was grateful for the gloves, protecting her hands from the disgusting mess that remained.
Thoughts whirled through her head. This was the last thing she had of Taylor. The last thing she had remaining of her former friend, her victim. The last thing that tied her to...what she'd done.
The police had investigated Winslow, but it was a slow, unenthusiastic investigation. They seemed almost lethargic, doing the bare minimum, and they hadn't looked the Trio's way. Instead, they were using the whole incident as an excuse to crack down on the gang recruitment, with a cop assigned to the school for at least six months. Either the angels were on their side or Sophia managed to pull off a miracle. Even Blackwell wasn't talking about it, citing the fact that Winslow was a hotbed of gang activity. It hadn't saved her job, but it had, it seemed, managed to ensure things quieted down.
Emma suspected Sophia was partially responsible for that, though how was beyond Emma. A few days of investigation, and then the cops just suddenly lost interest. It was Brockton Bay, there was always something new happening, something worse. But it all just...went away.
The fear remained, of course. But it slipped away, little by little, each day she still walked free. Tomorrow, Emma would be moving to New York City. Tomorrow, she could leave all this behind. Hopefully, she could say goodbye to all this. To hopefully stop being afraid, someday.
With her other hand, she pulled out her phone. She looked between them, the flute, and the phone. With a single call, a press of the button, she could call the police. Tell them everything. Tell them about Shadow Stalker, tell them about what they'd done. How they shut a girl in her locker until she died there. Maybe then she would feel a little better. Even if Sophia actually wanted to go through on her threat, she could probably get protection. Daddy, Mom, Zoe would be okay, the heroes could figure something out.
But then she'd lose, too. She'd have nothing left to look forward to. No modeling career. Hell, she'd be lucky if she could get any kind of work at all. They don't give good jobs to girls who killed their childhood friends, do they? How would her suffering help Taylor now?
The best thing to do was to forget it. Forget everything, make a new Emma for a new city. That was the only solution. Suffering in the future wouldn't make up for the mistakes of the past.
She pulled her hand back and threw the flute into the bay. From here, it wouldn't go that far out, but the water was deep enough. It wouldn't likely be found, and even if it was, it probably wouldn't be recognized. The bay had enough trash in it from the rusting metal hulks of the ships.
"Goodbye Taylor. I'm sorry."
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February 7, 2011
The New York apartment was small, and cold at first. Hastily-bought space heaters and blankets placed on the doors helped keep the heat in. She hadn't quite realized how much colder New York City could be over Brockton Bay. It wasn't that far away, but the difference was bone-chilling.
Still, as warm as her room was, Emma always woke up with a chill.
Every damn night, she had horrible dreams. Dreams, nightmares, about that day. If she was lucky. Sometimes it was worse.
Sometimes, she just dreamed of Taylor, staring accusingly at her, covered in blood. That, beyond half-formed nightmares and the feelings of crushing guilt, was the worst.
She took her time getting cleaned up for the morning. Feeling leaden as she looked at herself in the mirror, brushing her teeth. She didn't quite like what looked back, but...
Maybe school would be better. Maybe she wouldn't feel so terrified if she was able to spend some time with other people. Holing up in her room wasn't making her feel any better.
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Glensdale High School was a pretty big campus. It used to be an elementary school, but after Behemoth hit the city and it was reconstructed, there was room enough for the campus to grow. It was somewhat of a necessity, as the ground nearby would no longer support a tall building, so allowing the government to purchase the land for longer, shorter school buildings and a larger property. There were issues about it, notably some of the classrooms were small, but it worked out.
Emma had some trouble finding her way around at first. The cafeteria was huge, and it took a while for her to figure out how to order her food properly. She felt dejected as she sat down, alone.
She ate her sandwich slowly, not really tasting it as the fast bustle of students around her came and went. A flash of brown hair from the corner of her eye nearly made her heart stop, and she reflexively looked.
A pretty sophomore, wearing an all-black getup. Leather jacket and pants. This girl looked tough, like she gave no shits about anything, and she was busily laughing away at some joke a tall, dark, and handsome guy had just told her. On the other side of the guy was a redhead girl, wearing a thick winter coat and a pink, fuzzy sweater underneath.
Heart beginning to calm, Emma turned back to her lunch, her fingers shaking. Taylor's gone. She's gone and she's not coming back. Get a grip, Emma! You can survive this!
"Hey, you new here?" A cheerful voice broke into her thoughts.
Emma jerked in her seat, whirling around to the speaker. It was that same girl, looking at her with concern.
Emma faintly nodded. "Y-yeah. Just new here. First day."
The other girl grinned, flicking her hair back as it fell over her eyes. "Yeah, I can hear that. Ain't always easy to get settled in somewhere new." She held out her hand. "Name's Faith. If you want, I can show you the ropes around here."
"Hi!" An enthusiastic voice spoke, its owner wearing bottle-thick glasses. She waved at the fellow six year old. "I'm Taylor!"
Emma smiled as she waved back happily. "I'm Emma! Daddy says he's friends with your dad. Maybe we can be friends too?"
"Play nice together girls." The tall brunette lady said, a smile on her face. "We've got to get the barbecue ready."
Emma swallowed, then nodded, shaking the offered hand. "Emma. Good to meet you. I'd appreciate that."
Faith nodded with a smile. "You okay? You look like you're a million miles off." Her voice was filled with genuine concern.
Emma's voice was a bit faint, even to her own ears. "Just some old memories." At Faith's curious look, Emma quietly finished. "Just not used to being friendless and alone."
Faith grinned. "Well, we can fix that." The tall brunette, waved at her friends. The pair came over, wearing friendly smiles.
The redheaded girl smiled and waved shyly. "Hey."
The handsome guy stuck out his hand. "Nick. Good to see ya." He gently nudged the other redhead's shoulder. "Don't mind my best friend here. She's just a bit nervous around new people. And people she knows. And dogs. And cats. And..."
With an amused, but weak, smile, Emma shook the offered hand. "I get the idea. I'm Emma."
The other girl waved shyly. "Alyson. Hi. That's me. Um...hi?"
Faith laughed softly. "You said that three times already, Als."
It felt like a weight had lifted off of Emma's shoulders, and her smile grew.
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February 10, 2011
Faith, it turned out, liked to box.
There was a local gym, with the rather catchy name of 'Rocking Irons' about a block away from the school, and Faith was only too happy to show her. It would probably be nice to get a new hobby. And what better place to become strong than a gym?
Emma sat back on a bench and watched as the other girl smacked away at the punching bag, clearly enjoying herself as she trained.
Faith's voice was confident as she hammered at the bag, making it swing back and forth. "So, the whole thing is, New York's a bit rough and tumble. Since Behemoth came through, city's gone through hell. It's helpful to know a few things about defending yourself. Most people don't bug ya, but there's always an asshole or two who you might need to knock around. Better to know and be prepared."
Emma nodded. "So you can prove your strength against all comers. Show them you're the predator they don't want to fuck with. The lone wolf."
Faith stopped for a moment, looking at Emma, her face unreadable for a moment. She went back to hitting the bag. "Not about provin' nothing, girlie. Always going to be a bigger fish in the pond, you know? It don't matter how strong you are, someone's gonna have an advantage over you. Not sayin' you shouldn't be prepared. Just that you be smart. Make a fight your last resort, not your first, cause the guy who picks a fight, makes trouble, fucks over the other guys around? He's doin' it because he needs to prove somethin' and it's pathetic, but he thinks he's got an advantage, and once it comes to a fight, nobody wins. Weak people pick fights to prove they ain't weak. Strong people, really strong people, don't need to pick fights. They're secure. They don't gotta prove shit. It's the difference between the poseur wanna-be capes on the net who don't actually have any powers, and the actual veteran capes. The real deal don't give a shit. They're all outta fucks to give about the little shit."
Faith hit the bag especially hard. "Let's get somethin' straight. You strut around, pickin' fights, makin' shit for people? You ain't strong. You're an idiot, and sooner or later you bite someone who'll bite back and bite harder. You look around Glensdale, you see the guys hangin' in a gang? They ain't strong. They know it, which is why they're in a gang. It just makes em feel strong, lets them feel like they've broken their shortcomings when they're still little pathetic idiots. If they were strong, they wouldn't need their buddies there to get up to shit. You usually don't find one white dude pickin' on the gals from the Bronx. You gotta get at least three of em. Critical mass of bigotry and stupidity."
Emma blinked as she considered that, uncomfortable with how closely Faith was unintentionally digging into Emma's past. Emma took a breath, trying to see the other girl's point of view. "So if they're weak, who's strong?"
Faith snorted. "You're askin' the wrong question. Strong compared to who? You might have the strongest cat around on the street, but he's nothin' compared to a rottweiler. Lemme tell you, really strong people don't give a shit about comparison. They just get shit done. They don't waste time and energy posing, flexing, and proving themselves if they don't have to. I mean, shit, you think Legend spends any extra time posing and taunting badguys? No, he just comes in, gets the job done, hauls the assholes away and calls it a day. I'll bet he doesn't give a second thought to the guys he's stopped, he's got better things to worry about." Faith grinned crookedly. "Too bad the dude's gay. Ruined my first crush. Ah well." She shrugged as she went back to hitting the punching bag. "You ever watch a reality show? Like, say, Last One Standing?"
Emma shook her head. "Been a little busy for all that." Too busy trying to figure out a new way to torment...god, I still think about it. There's so much I never did because I was too busy thinking of things to do to Taylor. So many things I could have been doing otherwise, and I was just so busy trying to be strong. I could have been doing anything with that time. I could have...
Faith nodded, seemingly ignorant about Emma's inner thoughts. "You got the eight people on the show, jonesin' for the million dollar prize. You can divide them up into the strong contenders, the ones who're good at the tasks, and the weaker ones, who're good at politics. If they suck at both, they get kicked off fast. But the weaker ones know they don't bring as much to the table as the competent, secure ones. They can't fish or hunt, or build a shelter, or win any other challenge, so they wheedle and backstab their way to a more secure position, and vote off their stronger rivals. Hell, sometimes they even win the grand prize. Difference is, when someone strong wins it, someone who actually pulled their weight, most people don't mind it, they cheer that guy on. When the backstabbers win it, nobody likes em. Fuck, they nearly lost the rights to the show when one sneaky bitch won on season three. Usually though, they end up losin', cause they can't cope with somethin' they can't wheedle out of."
Faith hit the bag hard, making it swing back and forth on its chain. "They just break."
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March 5, 2011
Winter hadn't yet really broken from New York. The snow was going away as the days grew longer and warmer, but the transition from winter to spring was a slow one. The wind coming off the Atlantic brought with it the smell of salt, along with the less pleasant smells that came from the garbage that filled the water. Rebuilt or not, New York wasn't the most clean city around. Though apparently it had been worse, once. The city benefited from quite a few civil programs. It was important, not just as a symbol of American pride, but as a city that the Herokiller had attacked, and survived.
Emma sat, watching the water lap at the shore. A small little grassy patch by the water, letting her look out over the ocean without too much of an issue. She went there to think, because it was one of the few places where she could enjoy the ocean air with a small amount of solitude. Just another girl who wanted to enjoy the day, as much as she could.
Phone in one hand, flute in the other.
Since she found this spot in New York, she came as often as she could. Once every two or three days, considering her schedule. Every time, she held her phone in her hands, considering that choice. To preserve her life over that of Taylor's, even as a memory. It wasn't like turning herself in would have helped anything, would it?
It wouldn't bring her back. It wouldn't fix Emma's mistake. It wouldn't...it got a little easier every day to accept it, and move on.
Still, her phone felt like it weighed a million pounds.
"Sorry." She said softly. "I'm so sorry. I can't help you now. I can't fix it now. It wouldn't solve anything."
The wind whistled. Almost accusatory. She put her phone away. After all, she had to go see a movie with Faith, and Nick, and Alyson. She had a new life, now.
It was best to put the old one behind her.
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April 8, 2011
Emma's room was bustling with activity, as Faith and Nick had come over. For the first time in a long time... Emma felt happy.
"So I was sayin' 'you just need to get up on that high horse and try again!'" Faith said with an exaggerated wave, grinning crookedly.
"Oh god, Faith, please don't." Nick begged, his voice desperate.
Faith grinned, her voice teasing. "So Nick here jumps right back on the horse. Gets his feet right into the stirrups. He seems just fine, all ready to go...then a strap breaks and the whole saddle tilts right over. Wham! Right in the mud!"
Emma struggled to keep in her laughter, and failed miserably. Her laughter filled the room, added to by the giggling Faith.
Nick just sighed, shaking his head. "Give me a break. It was my first time trying to ride a horse. They're not exactly common around the city, you know. Now and again, maybe I see a cop on a horse. Going upstate for that was new!"
Faith nodded with a grin. "Sure. But you should have seen the look on your face as you struggled to get outta the mud. You looked like you were ready to choke out Behemoth with your bare hands."
He sighed, taking a drink from his bottle of Coke. "Well, it's not like I enjoyed the experience."
Faith's grin grew wider. "Yeah, well, just be glad Comet didn't take a step back and hit your junk. I'm kinda fond of your junk."
"Faith!" Emma exclaimed, forced into another round of laughter.
She gave an unrepentant grin. "What? He's my boytoy."
Nick just slumped on the couch, putting his face in his hands. "What did I ever do to deserve this?" He spoke, though his words were muffled.
Emma struggled to breathe, trying to rein herself in. Finally, she managed to calm herself down enough. She just...couldn't remember the last time she felt this happy. She had friends. A new life. A life without Sophia, but one where she felt.. content. It was a good feeling.
She quieted as she heard a commotion at the front door, her father's voice echoing slightly through the walls, though she couldn't hear what was being said.
Then the door opened, a severe-looking man standing there, wearing a black trenchcoat. He was flanked by two New York police.
Oh god.
The man held up a laminated ID, with a grim-looking photo of him on it. "Emma Barnes? I am Agent MacGregor of the FBI. I have a warrant for your arrest, and these gentlemen are here to confiscate your belongings for evidence." He looked at the other two teenagers in the room. "I'm afraid due to the situation, I'm going to have to ask you two to come with us for questioning."
Faith got to her feet, her face pale. She whirled on Emma. "Ems, what the hell is he talking about?"
Nick rose his hand, clearly nervous. "Uh... can we get some context, here?"
MacGregor frowned. "She's wanted for the murder of a classmate at her old school."
Faith had gone pale, looking at Emma with disbelief. "Ems? It ain't true, is it? Tell me it ain't true."
Emma didn't say anything. She couldn't. Her throat felt like it was filled with a stone. As the police clicked the handcuffs shut over her wrists, it took almost all of her composure to not just collapse on the floor, wailing hysterically.
She couldn't, however, keep herself from sobbing.
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April 18, 2011
Back in Brockton Bay. Not that Emma was allowed to actually see the sights, revisit the places she grew up. Not allowed to visit the Boardwalk and shop. Not allowed to walk around on Captain's Hill and enjoy the history. Not allowed to watch the sun rise over the city. She and her father were considered flight risks. No bail, no house arrest. No chance to get some fresh air. No chance for anything she wanted. All she was allowed to see was the conference room with her lawyer, and her cell. It was in the former she sat at the moment, her heart in her throat.
Alan gently squeezed Emma's hand, and she smiled faintly. Her father was the only steady thing in her life, now. It wasn't as if she had much better to look forward to. Who else would be friends with a murderer?
"Things will be okay, Emma." He spoke quietly. "We'll get through this. I'll fight as hard as I have to. You'll get your day in court."
She nodded, plastering a look of gratitude on her face. She felt hollow, trapped, stuck playing a role that dug deeper and deeper into a pit with no way out. Every time she tried to muster up the courage to tell her father the truth, the words died on her tongue. She could imagine the look in his eyes, the crushed expression of betrayal. The same look she used to enjoy seeing in Taylor's.
She couldn't bear seeing it in her father's eyes.
The door swung open, and Jonas Crick, the best lawyer her father could buy, looked at her severely. He was an older man, balding and grizzled. His voice was quiet as he spoke. "Well. This is a mess." With a sigh, he took a seat at the table, across from the pair. He set down the file folder in this hands and opened it.
"I understand this is a trying time for you both." He looked to Emma. "You've been accused of a long list of charges, young lady. Evidence is coming in as they investigate. I'll be blunt. Things are very, very bad on your end, and as the police and PRT analyse the evidence, more charges are likely to show up. At the moment, though, so far you're looking at thirty years, perhaps more, depending on what they can get to stick."
Her father swallowed. "What do they have right now?"
Jonas took a moment to rub his eyes, careful not to dislodge his glasses. "Frankly? A lot. The evidence linking the death of Taylor Hebert was uncovered by a newly-triggered parahuman. At the moment, their identity is classified, but they're not charging either of you just on their word. They're putting forth charges based on the evidence found by their testimony. The case was reopened and is being investigated by both the BBPD and the PRT, due to both the new parahuman's involvement and Madison Clements' confession and testimony about what happened. Here's what we know as what follows. Sophia Hess, also known as Shadow Stalker, is in custody, and she has claimed under interrogation that you, she and Madison conspired to kill Taylor."
Emma's breath caught, and she felt the blood drain from her face. "S-she's lying! We didn't!"
Jonas sighed. "We're fairly sure she is lying. Apparently Armsmaster has a lie detector with fairly good accuracy. Issue is, such devices and their results aren't reproducible, and they don't count as evidence in any court of law. That prevents people from being arrested and convicted just on a Tinker's say-so. They can, however, be used to help discover admissible evidence. At the moment, Madison's role in this is being worked through, but due to her confession and her repentant attitude, she's likely to get a reduced sentence. That may change if it's found she lied to the authorities, but that's how things stand as they are at the moment. Right now, the PRT is examining Sophia's phone, her laptop, as well as yours and Madison's. They've also exhumed Taylor's grave, verifying the identity of the victim, as well as reconstructed much of the events that led to her death."
Emma swallowed. "It was Sophia who did it. She pushed Taylor into the locker. She put the pads and tampons in there. I had no idea." If she hadn't done it, Taylor would still be alive. She was the hero, she should have known better than me what someone can go through before...before...
Jonas, thankfully, seemed to be ignorant of Emma's train of thought. His voice was quiet as he spoke. "I believe you. Things still don't look good, however. What's known at this point is enough for them to charge you with second-degree murder. They don't believe you intended to kill her, but with the long-running bullying campaign, the retrieved emails sent to the victim, the state of Taylor's body when she was discovered... it's turned a lot of opinion against you. Our best option is to request a judge to arbitrate for sentencing, even with a plea deal, rather than going to trial."
Alan frowned, his voice filled with a combination of anger and worry. "Not fighting this out? My daughter is innocent. There's no way she could do this to Taylor, they were friends for years!"
"The point is that you're a loser."
The words seemed to hit Taylor as surely as any physical blow, unable to keep the tears from welling up in her eyes. "...Even if it's just a flute and a memory, maybe I wanted to feel like I had some backup here. I thought you were better than that, screwing with me on that level."
"I guess you're wrong." Emma said, feeling...reassured, as she spoke the words that burned her old friendship away irrevocably. She didn't enjoy the moment, precisely... but as she cemented her path, things made sense. "Doesn't look like she's offering you any backup at all."
The memory made Emma feel sick. But she was still helpless. Trapped. She had to escape. She had to get free of here. Even her father couldn't help. He wouldn't help if he knew the truth. Nobody would. Who possibly could? It wouldn't help Taylor now...
Emma's voice was quiet as she spoke, her heart feeling like lead. "I... I broke off my friendship with Taylor because of Sophia. I followed her, she was a hero, she saved our lives... I didn't know that she was crazy. I didn't know that she'd do these things. I just... all I did was tease Taylor, I swear. I didn't hurt her. I didn't kill her. Sophia did. After Taylor was dead... she threatened me, she threatened Madison. She threatened our families. I kept quiet because of that."
Alan looked unhappy at that, his face turning angry as he looked at her. "What the hell happened, Emma?"
That expression seemed to sear into her very soul, and Emma could only duck her head. "I'm sorry. I'm not proud of the things I did. But I didn't kill Taylor. I didn't want her dead. I was just... I'm not sure what I was doing. I was just so scared. I... I'm sorry. I couldn't say anything about... what was happening."
Emma told everything about Sophia, about how they met. Sophia's philosophy, how it drove Emma to reject Taylor in order to be closer to the then-independent hero. She downplayed everything she did, every idea for the torment she inflicted on Taylor. It was stretching the truth, but what else could she do? They'd believe it, and there wasn't anything left to show that it wasn't true. Sophia had deleted her texts, and Emma had cleared out the emails sent from her computer. It came down to her word against Sophia's, and she simply had more to work with.
After she'd finished, Jonas sat there, thinking. Then he scowled. "Capes make everything much more complicated than they need to be. This case is just the worst instance I've had. Then there's the damned bureaucracy, it's like trying to squeeze water out of a stone while hiking up Everest without any equipment." He sighed, looking tired. "I won't lie. This is going to take a while, even if we simply arbitrate rather than fight it out in court. And it takes time to go through the evidence, sort through files, tally up reports... this is going to take months, at least. Right now, the prosecution considers you both flight risks."
Alan spoke, his voice hard. "We aren't runners. We fight."
Jonas shot him a look. "Mister Barnes, please. This is important. At the moment, I'm not cleared for all the classified information that the prosecution is bringing. I'm working on that. But when I brought up the possibility of bail for the both of you, I was shut down. Until the things are cleared, I won't even be allowed to set you two in a nice little motel room. They think there's a chance the both of you will cut and run. That, legally, is all they need."
Alan took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. "There's got to be avenues we haven't tried yet. I can't accept that we're denied even the possibility without explanation."
Jonas frowned, looking frustrated. "I'm not sure what else I can try."
Emma's voice was weak, faint as she spoke. "What if I agreed to stay? I mean, they're throwing the worst of things at me, right?" She looked at her father, feeling her lip tremble. "I'm the one they want. Just...let my dad go. I don't really care anymore. He didn't do anything."
Jonas looked at Emma for a long moment. Then he spoke softly. "I'll bring it up in the next meeting with the judge. In the meantime... think on what you want to do. Fight it out, plead guilty, or arbitrate and argue through the charges. We still have time while they tally the evidence up, and we need to do everything we can to refute what they have. Things are going to get worse before they get better. Regardless, I need to get through the paperwork. We need to compile everything we can before we can decide whether to go to trial or not."
Alan frowned, anger in his voice. "Wait, we might not even get to trial?"
Jonas glared at him. "Yes, that may very well be the best course of action. This isn't a television drama, Mister Barnes. Frankly, getting to trial is actually the worst-case scenario here. Dramatics and tricks may work in a courtroom. They don't work in an arbitration case, and the legal system as a whole does not like people trying to pull dramatic tricks to make their case. The more evidence we can shoot down before it reaches the point before we even think about going to trial, the better. As much as I may grumble about the speed of the bureaucracy, in this instance, we want it to take as much time as possible."
Alan nodded. "And if we do go to trial?"
A sigh from Jonas. "Then my suggestion for you is to go with a judge presiding, instead of judgement by jury. First of all, our best defense would be in airing as much classified information as we have. A jury trial won't go over very well, especially not here in Brockton Bay. If even one member of the jury has Empire leanings, they'll use that information to hunt down Miss Hess' family. As it is they're going to be taken into Witness Protection, but the fewer people who have to sign Non-Disclosure Agreements, the better. We're more likely to get some leniency, as well. Judges are more likely to get angry at the parahuman who's working the system than an ordinary girl." His lips tightened. "It could go bad, though. Trials are messy things, and avoiding it would be best. Still, I'll arbitrate with the judge and prosecution for as long as I need to. Depending on what they find, a plea may end up with a fairly short sentence. Minors don't tend to get charged for long sentences... but this is not a usual case. It's a serious list of charges, and I'm not sure how the judge will take things."
Emma nodded, feeling hollow. "I know. But I'm not spending more years behind bars for what Sophia did. She threatened my family, it's the only reason I kept quiet. I'm not going to suffer for her. I'll accept a few charges, but I am going to fight the big ones. I... I treated Taylor badly when we drifted apart, but I never wanted her dead."
Alan gently squeezed her hand.
The warmth of his skin on hers should have been reassuring. Instead, it felt leaden.
Two days later, Alan was allowed to stay with Zoe under house arrest.
-----------------
May 1, 2011
"Barnes? You've got a visitor."
Emma looked up. A visitor?
Her mind was in a whirl as she was brought over to the visiting booths. A pane of reinforced glass separated her from the other side of the room, and Emma gingerly took a seat on the stool that was bolted to the ground.
The door swung open, and Faith strode in. Emma's mouth dried at the sight of her. Of all the people, she hadn't expected her.
The other girl's face was expressionless as she sat down, picking up the phone on the side of the booth.
Emma blinked, then flushed a bit as she picked up her own. She hadn't noticed it.
"Hey," Faith spoke, sounding tired. "Figured I should come around. Took a while to get the bus fare, though." A twitch on Faith's lips. "How you holding up?"
Emma swallowed. "Okay, I guess. I'm feeling a bit claustrophobic."
A moment of silence passed. Emma shifted uncomfortably as she realized what she'd just said.
Faith dipped her head forward a little, her fingers tight around the phone. "So you really killed a girl, huh?"
Emma shut her eyes. It was better than seeing the other girl's eyes. Slowly, Emma nodded, her voice thick as she spoke. "It was stupid. A prank gone bad. I just... I don't know what I was thinking. It all seemed to make sense at the time."
Faith's chuckled slightly. "Lot of bad ideas sound like good ones at the time." She sighed. "Obviously, you never thought it through."
Emma nodded slowly, opening her eyes. "Yeah. I just... I've got no idea what to do."
Faith shrugged. "That's the bitch about prison. You don't have very many options." She gently tapped the glass. "You still have choices to make, though."
Emma furrowed her brow, shaking her head. "Like what? I can't do much from inside a cell."
Faith shook her head. "Yeah, you don't have many options. But you can still choose what kind of person you want to be. You killed a girl. It might have been dumb, you might not have meant it. But you did it. Accept it. Learn from it. Take your lumps, and while it's not going to be fun, own up to what you did."
Emma's lip trembled. "But I did."
Faith lifted an eyebrow. "Did you? Then why did the feds pull you out of your place, instead of you heading down to the cops to confess? Did you even try to give any closure to that girl's family? Or did you just run from what you did?"
The words struck like a physical blow.
Madison confessed. She was still in the city with Sophia, right there, and she stepped forward. What did I do? I just tried to forget it. I never tried. I was... I was too afraid because of what would happen to me. I never thought about what I was doing to Taylor.
Faith nodded slowly, looking satisfied. "Yeah, you got my point. Running don't fix any problems. Not like this. You fucked up. It can be hard as fuck facing that. Point is, even if you can't fix what you did, you owe it to that girl, and you owe it to yourself. Even if you spend the rest of your life being a jailbird, you still get to pick what kind of person you are. You can run, until everything drips away. Or you can confront what you did."
Emma nodded slowly. "You mean fight."
Faith laughed softly. "Yeah. Just you gotta fight your own dumbass self. Own up. Can't fix it, maybe, but if you try, maybe, just maybe, you'll be able to look at yourself in the mirror." She shrugged. "Or maybe you're a shameless bitch. Maybe you don't give a shit about who you are. Maybe the girl I got to know over the last couple months was a complete lie." She tapped the glass again. "You figure that out."
Faith hung up the phone. Emma could only sit there, until she was brought back to her cell.
-----------------
May 4, 2011
The three pages in front of Emma seemed to be so small, so frail, so insignificant.
She looked up at Jonas, her voice soft. "Fifteen years? That's..."
He folded his hands, looking angry. "That is the best I can do. I can't get anything less than that. And it's all because you lied to me and your father."
Emma swallowed. "W-what?"
His gaze was serious as he looked straight at her. "As a courtesy, I didn't tell your father about this just yet. He hired me to be your representative, and it is in that capacity I'm acting. I can't bargain any less than fifteen years because of evidence they found on your cell phone and your computer."
Emma's stomach dropped into the floor. Her mouth gaped as she tried to form words, and couldn't.
Jonas scowled, leaning forward slightly. "I'm quite aware that you're a teenager. You probably don't know the first thing about computers and data storage beyond the fact they let you do things. Data that gets deleted? It's not actually gone until the hard drive fills it. It isn't gone until it's overwritten. With the right Tinker, it's not even gone then. They recovered the details about your little text conversation with Sophia. They recovered every email you sent to Taylor, every taunt, every time you encouraged her to kill herself. Christ, kid, if you weren't a minor, the judge would have insisted on thirty years for this. It's only the fact you're a minor that I was able to bargain down to fifteen in a minimum security prison. Had you been three years older, there would have been nothing I could do. They'd have hit you with thirty years with all the charges."
It took a long moment for Emma to speak, her voice faint and weak. "What can I do?"
He looked at her seriously. "You take the punishment. Officially you won't be sentenced until we manage to straighten things out for your father. He's pleading ignorance about your actions, and the more we keep things separate, the better." With a tired sigh, he shook his head. "For what it's worth, kid? There's nothing more I can do for you. I suggest you talk to your father, come clean, before I have to."
Slowly, Emma's gaze dropped to the pages in front of her.
Leadenly, she picked up the pen.
-----------------
Alan stared at her.
Emma swallowed as she ducked her head, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry."
It took long minutes, but finally, he managed to say something. "I'm not the one you should be apologizing to, Emma."
She shuddered, the tone of his voice striking her to the core.
What hurt most was the look in his eyes. The disappointment. The pain. He'd lost his illusion of his good little girl. He looked uncertain, like the world made no sense anymore.
Emma ducked her head, unable to meet her father's eyes any longer. She barely noticed as he left.
-----------------
May 17, 2011
Emma stared at the screen.
It was impossible. Simply impossible. The Simurgh was dead.
For Emma's entire life, the Endbringers had been. They always attacked, always fought, always seemed unstoppable. And now, one of them was dead. Gone.
Even she, locked in her cell, had been allowed to watch the final ten minutes of the Simurgh's life, as the capes in Vancouver fought her. But it was two who killed her. One wasn't that much of a surprise, after all, it was Dragon, the world's most famous Tinker, and she probably had built some kind of system or gadget that finally managed the seemingly impossible.
It was the other that made Emma feel cold. Scarlet Knight, who turned into a massive red dragon. Twice as tall as the Simurgh, far more massive, dark, violent, and seemingly unstoppable. Despite how terrifying her power seemed to be, however, at first, Emma had been overjoyed. A hero, though dark and terrible, had managed to do, to deliver, what nobody had dared to dream about for well over a decade.
Hope.
Even Emma had felt that hope. Even if she had nothing to look forward to but a cold cell for... ever, for one, shining moment, she felt hope.
And then came the speech from Scarlet Knight, naming herself as Scarlet Dragon afterward. Helmet off, white hair shining under the lights, red eyes looking out into the crowd, crimson red skin.
"I'm saying this now. I was the Scarlet Knight, your protector. I am now the Scarlet Dragon, and I am still your protector. And I am not alone. I am here to stand between you and things like the Endbringers. My powers may be scary to you. I can't change that. But I am fighting for you. My powers were given to me for a reason, and I'm choosing to use them to help those of you who can't help yourselves.
"After all." A horribly, painfully familiar smile rose on the red, monstrous cape's face. "Just because someone is dark, doesn't mean they're the bad guy. There are beautiful things in the night as well as in the day, and I will be standing between those monsters in the dark and the light of our civilization."
"Taylor," Emma breathed.
One small part of her heart was filled with hope. The hope that she hadn't killed her former friend.
The rest was of sheer dread. The dread that she had, and the universe itself reared up in anger over her crime.
-----------------
Jonas was stone-faced as he listened to Emma's words. The theory she'd built. She didn't have much information, but she had enough. At least, if it was true.
Alan looked between them. "If this is true, then we're good, right? They can't charge my daughter with a murder when the victim is still alive. At the least it would mitigate things somewhat, shouldn't it?"
Slowly, Jonas took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Parahumans make everything a complete mess. I've been through more forms and pages in the last month trying to get everything straightened out than I'd ever hoped I'd ever see. Crossing state lines, the involvement of a Ward as a suspect, even with that suspect no longer in custody, the classified information I've had to sign dozens of Non-Disclosure Agreements for..." He peered, almost owlishly, at Emma. "You're sure about this? That Scarlet Knight is Taylor?"
Emma nodded. "I know her face. I know her voice. I don't know how, but it's her. She's red, and her hair's white, and she looks like she's been airbrushed, but... it's her. I know it."
Jonas' face was hard. "Christ. All right. I'll be back in about half an hour. I need to make some calls and get some papers copied."
Emma's heart raced with excitement as he left. She wasn't sure if it was the rush of possible freedom or dread that rushed over her, but her heart pounded all the same.
After a long moment of silence, Alan spoke softly. "How are they treating you here, Emma?"
She swallowed, licking her lips. "Okay. I'm given things to read, a small TV to watch. How's mom and Anne?"
His voice was quiet. "They're doing okay, given the circumstances. They miss you." His mouth opened and closed, looking uncertain before he finished. "Zoe has a hard time believing all this, Emma. That you did things to Taylor. That you did anything to Taylor."
Her father's words felt like they were scraping a knife over a fresh wound. Emma shivered as she spoke. "I'm not proud of it, dad. At the time, what I was doing felt like it made sense. After a while I just kept doing it because I was used to doing it. I..." Her tongue felt thick, as she swallowed the lump in her throat. "I didn't hurt her physically, but I hurt her a lot, dad. And I can't make up for it. Even if she's actually alive, I can't say I'm sorry. She wouldn't believe it." Emma slumped in her chair as she finished her thought, her voice quiet. "I wouldn't believe it, either."
The words hung in the air. Long minutes passed in silence before Jonas returned. He set down a stack of forms in front of father and daughter, at least six inches thick, and held out two pens.
"Start reading and signing." Jonas said with obvious annoyance. "This is going to take a while."
Alan stared at the stack as he took the offered pen, his voice faint. "The forms I signed for Shadow Stalker were a lot thinner."
Jonas' lip twitched upward. "Welcome to parahuman law. Everything should be clear on the next meeting with the judge. Until then, I can't say anything further."
-----------------
May 22, 2011
"All right. Let's lay it out." Judge Anderson spoke. The man was in his sixties, his dark skin contrasting with the off-white of the wall behind him. "This has been a bureaucratic wrangle ever since this whole thing started. It didn't help with Bakuda bombing the damn city." He rubbed the side of his face, a recent scar prominent in his skin.
Jonas' voice was firm as he spoke two words. "They know."
The judge, and the prosecutor, Laura Davis, shared a look. After a moment, Laura spoke, her voice carefully neutral. "I do believe you have our attention."
Jonas opened a file folder, placing it on the judge's desk. "I want to state for the record that I protest the issues with the laws concerning a parahuman's right to protect their identity when it comes up against an accused's right to confront their accuser."
Judge Anderson nodded. "So noted. Unfortunately without a Supreme Court ruling, it isn't going to get anywhere." He looked over Alan and Emma, his gaze cold and assessing. "Miss Davis, you may present the full briefing of information to our defendants."
Laura nodded with a frown on her lips. "Here is what we know. On the morning of January the Eighth, Taylor Hebert's corpse was discovered in her locker by the school janitor, who had arrived to clean up for the weekend. Her identity was confirmed by comparing her DNA with samples at her home. The measures were necessary, because the insects in the locker had eaten away at her. Her eyes were devoured, there was very little of her face left, and nearly thirty percent of her body was consumed by the insects inside."
Emma's heart leapt up into her throat.
"Don't worry Taylor. They'll keep you company for a while. You needed to make new friends anyway."
Laura's voice went on, unknowing about the train of Emma's thoughts. "After she was cleaned up, the coroner did an autopsy. It was difficult to determine the exact cause of death, but the high levels of stress hormones in her blood, the bacteria that had contaminated her wounds, and the venom from the various species of spiders all contributed. In the end, the stress was the final straw, and her heart failed. Unusual in a teenager, but considering the circumstances, not out of the realm of possibility." Laura opened a manilla folder in front of her, and Emma couldn't help but flinch at the sight of the skeletal, grisly photos she got a glimpse of.
If it wasn't for the curly, long brown hair, Emma could almost have believed it was of someone else. A nearly bare skull looked back at her through the photo. It was hard to see the photographs, the plain evidence of her crime lain out in front of her. "Th-then how?"
Laura glared at her, then continued. "On April fourth, early in the morning, one Daniel Hebert called the PRT. He claimed his daughter had returned from the dead. After a rather exciting misunderstanding, her identity was confirmed by two factors. Her DNA comparison, which matched both her father and the DNA still on file from the previous investigation, though that took a while longer. Her grave was exhumed, confirming that she was not a clone, dimensional analogue, or simply mistaken."
The next set of pictures made Emma pale. An open coffin, the lining torn, clear evidence of someone having punched and kicked at the interior from the inside.
Alan was pale as he spoke. "That...that's not possible. We were there, at her funeral. We couldn't have buried her alive. It was two weeks after she..."
A twitch on Laura's lips. "As far as we can tell, she wasn't buried alive. She was dead when she was pulled out of the locker. She was dead on the autopsy table. She was dead when she was put in the ground. We have a great deal of evidence supporting all these points. And then, after three months in the grave, she awakened and teleported out. The first power she showed. I'm fairly sure she's shown a lot more since. Especially since she, apparently, killed the damned Simurgh."
Judge Anderson spoke, his voice harsh. "Even before that happened, I was taking this case very seriously. Now, at this point, I'm getting pressure from up the chain to push things along." He stared at Emma, a frown on his face. "This crime is quite a terrible one, young lady. Most of the issues here have been about the minutiae of legal issues. I've been wrangling back and forth between your lawyer and the prosecution over hypothetical problems for weeks, as this is a case that may set precedent for future cases involving parahumans."
The ground swirled under Emma. She would have easily fallen over, if it weren't for the chair.
Alan looked back and forth between the judge, prosecution, and defense lawyer. "What's the issue, precisely? If she is alive, why are we still facing a wrongful death charge? It's ludicrous."
Laura looked at him, her tone serious. "This isn't a case where someone was missing and presumed dead, Mister Barnes. We had a corpse. She didn't get taken out, brought to the hospital in a coma. She was either dead, or close enough to dead to fool everyone, for the two weeks she was under the eye of medical professionals and forensics professionals. She had a death certificate. She didn't get up during examination the day she was found. She clawed at the interior of her coffin two and a half months after being put in it. That a death occurred is very clear, and that it was undone by parahuman power doesn't change the fact that we had her corpse."
Then Jonas spoke, sounding tired. "I've been wrangling over this the whole time. There's three reasons why I wasn't able to get less than a manslaughter charge. When the PRT was founded and parahuman law had to be written, the hypothetical was brought up about how we might deal with a situation like this. If a parahuman had, for example, a cloning power used to secure his civilian identity and an assailant killed the clone. Or if a parahuman turned up with the power to regenerate, however slowly, that they were out of commission for a long period. Charges would still apply to the assailant, concerning murder to the appropriate degree."
Judge Anderson nodded. "I'm reluctant to set the precedent here, but I find myself forced to, regardless." He looked at Emma seriously, his eyes narrow with consideration. "Did you or Sophia have any idea that Taylor was a parahuman before this? Before January?"
Emma couldn't help but feel confusion, laying on top of the feeling of fear. "No. No idea."
Laura spoke, her voice cold. "She has stated that the experience in the locker was her trigger event. That's the second reason I can't drop the charge. When she was pushed into that locker and eaten alive by those insects, she was not a parahuman. She had no powers. When the assailants did it, as far as they knew, they were doing it to an ordinary teenage girl, not someone who could simply endure the experience, or escape it, or break out of it. If Taylor had been an ordinary person, she would simply be dead, now. That her power revived her, and so spectactularly at that, is a simple stroke of luck. A crime was committed. That the worst part of that crime was undone by powers we don't understand doesn't change the crime."
Alan clenched his teeth. "You can't put my daughter away for fifteen years! I can fight you on this! I don't care what it takes. One phone call to the press and everyone knows who she is."
Laura looked at him with disapproval. "Mister Barnes. You don't have a legal or sane position to stand on, here. Scarlet Dragon is a powerful parahuman. One who was victimized by your daughter, and is only alive because of parahuman powers which we do not understand, only can deal with. Secondly, revealing the identity of a hero who wishes to keep their identity secret, even an independent, carries hefty jailtime as it opens up their families to retaliation. And she's made enemies. On her first day awake, she defeated Lung. A few weeks later, she broke Bakuda's siege of the city. And now she's killed the Simurgh. There are people who will want to harm or kill her, because of what she's done. If they can't kill her, they'd kill her family. Because of that, we are protecting her identity as seriously as any Protectorate cape. Third, we have a responsibility to keep all parties alive and healthy, as much as possible. The reason your daughter hasn't been allowed out on house arrest isn't because we have a grudge against her. It was for her protection. How do you think a parahuman who had gone through not one but two immensely traumatic experiences in short order at the hands of your daughter would react on seeing her out and free? Especially since we have had no way of knowing how stable she might be after such an experience?"
Alan took a deep breath, then shuddered, his face going pale.
Laura nodded. "And now she's amassing a great deal of political capital. Hell, public opinion is on her side, even though she looks like Satan's daughter. Releasing her civilian identity? Odds are pretty damn good her father will be killed by an Endbringer cultist or the Slaughterhouse Nine or kidnapped by someone, anyone, who would want to get control over her. I've no doubt the Protectorate's trying what they can to ensure she stays on their side. Hell, she's too powerful to force to do anything, and nobody sane would want to."
Alan clenched his hands. As he sucked in a deep breath, he was interrupted.
"Dad. It's okay." It was the hardest words Emma had ever spoken.
Alan looked at her, anger on his face. "You don't know what you're saying, Emma. This is your life we're talking about."
Emma nodded, her voice faint. "I know. I know it is, Dad. But I did these things...you didn't. I hurt Taylor. I... I didn't do the right thing. For all we knew, she was actually, really dead, and I... I didn't do anything. You pulled us out of the city, and all I could think about was that I got away with it." She swallowed, tears running down her cheeks. "I... I just don't care anymore. I don't deserve to be out and free after what I did. I don't want to see you go down for what I did, Dad."
Silence reigned in the room for a long moment. Then, finally, the anger drained away from Alan, leaving a tired, resigned man who looked ten years older than his actual age. "You're my daughter, Emma. I can't not try."
She smiled faintly, weakly. "I know." She looked at Judge Anderson. "I'll accept the plea bargain as it stands. I'm asking you to believe me... my Dad didn't know any of it. Sophia saved us once. He repaid that. She hurt Taylor, threatened Madison and I, and our families, but before all that... she helped us. He couldn't have known what she'd do."
Judge Anderson nodded slowly. "I'll take that into consideration."
-----------------
August 6, 2011
Well Emma, welcome to the second week of the next fifteen years. And you're lying here, staring at a book you don't care to remember, bored out of your mind.
She would serve three years in a juvenile hall facility. Then she would be transferred to a minimum security prison for the twelve after that. Considering everything, she got off lightly, and she knew it.
Her cell wasn't extravagant, but it was comfortable. She was allowed books, and a few hours of supervised internet access every day. She had never been a very big reader, that had been Taylor's thing, but she wasn't about to complain about it. She'd either learn to enjoy reading or learn to enjoy watching the walls or count dots in the ceiling.
Books didn't sound so bad, then.
A knock echoed on her cell door, and one of the guards was standing there. The big man looked at her, annoyance on his face. "Visitor for you, Barnes."
Emma blinked, then smiled as she figured that Faith or Mom or Anne might be visiting. It would be good to see them. Setting the book aside, she got to her feet, letting herself get escorted to the meeting room.
It was a simple enough room. Nothing extravagant, just a few uncomfortable chairs, a metal table bolted to the floor, the wallpaper designed to resemble wood, though it was just wallpaper. Brick was behind the thin wall of plaster. Nothing but the cheapest for the Johnson Correctional Facility For Youths.
Emma settled into the chair, closing her eyes as she settled in. It was difficult, looking forward to the next fifteen years here, or in places like this. But there wasn't anything else she could do.
The door clicked open, and Emma opened her eyes. Blood rushed away from her face as she took in the sight. Her heart hammered as she struggled to breathe.
Taylor settled into the chair opposite. She wore a red jacket, black shirt. She looked pale, but otherwise unchanged from the last time she'd seen her former friend. Not red-skinned, not beautiful, just...almost painfully ordinary. The lack of her glasses, the lack of faint squinting Emma had always known from Taylor, seemed to change her face.
"Hello, Emma." Taylor spoke, her voice cold.
Emma swallowed. "T-Taylor. I h-heard you came back."
"No thanks to you." Taylor took a moment to sweep her eyes up and down, examining Emma's orange prisoner suit. "Prison clothing suits you." Her lip twitched slightly. "Personally, I'd have put you in a sack. Preferably the itchiest one around, but I suppose that wouldn't actually solve anything."
Emma's hands trembled, struggling to gather her voice. Finally, she managed softly. "Why are you here?"
Taylor tilted her head slightly. "Lots of reasons. But here's the main one." She leaned forward, her voice dropping an octave, the iris of her eyes turning red. "Why did you kill me?"
Emma shuddered, pulling back onto her seat. "I didn't mean to. B-but you're okay, now, right?"
Her eyes went entirely red, glowing faintly with a hellish light. "Okay? I died because of you. You know what I remember? You laughing as you walked away, even as I begged for someone, anyone, to let me out. I remember the bugs that had colonized your little prank. They gnawed at me while I was still alive. Do you have any idea how it feels to feel thousands of tiny little jaws biting, feeding, feasting on your flesh? The pain, the sickness as that shit in that locker filled my wounds?"
Emma couldn't pull back any further, feeling like a rabbit with a broken leg staring into the eyes of a hungry wolf.
Taylor hissed lowly, while the room's temperature dropped rapidly. "There's some downsides to my state, you know. I will never have children, because of you. If it weren't for certain abilities and help from others, I would never have a chance of growing up properly. I'd be stuck at fifteen, forever, because of you. My father nearly starved himself to death, because of you. The only reason you have the luxury of oxygen right now is because he still lived when I reawoke." Her glare sharpened. "I asked you a question, Emma. Why did you turn on me? What was so damned important that you thought it was such a grand idea to keep on going until it left me a corpse?"
Emma trembled, struggling to breathe as she choked the words out. "W-when you were away, at summer camp, two years ago. The ABB set a trap for me and my Dad. They nearly..."
"Nose...Eye...Mouth...well, you can hide the ears with the hair. So maybe I'll take both. Which will it be?"
Emma licked her lips, trying to not stare right into the cold, expressionless face of her former victim. "They wanted to use me, use us, as an initiation. A way to prove themselves to the gang. I t-tried to fight back." She let out a bitter, helpless laugh. "They'd have killed me for it. Shadow Stalker stepped in, saved us... she taught me how to be strong. So I could fight, so I wouldn't be stuck and weak like that again."
Taylor was silent for a moment. Then she nodded slowly. "So you two became friends. And when I got back from summer camp..."
Emma's eyes dropped to the table, unable to meet Taylor's eyes anymore. "I could see Sophia didn't like you. I felt... I had to break away from you. The Emma who went into that alley was weak, and y-you were a part of that. Every time I tore at you, I was trying to tear away from who I had been. I had to become strong, strong so I wouldn't..."
Taylor's voice was quiet, still cold, but just slightly softer. "End up back there."
Emma nodded meekly, keeping her gaze downcast.
Taylor's fingers clinked on the table, then her voice spoke, cold and hard. "The sad part is, you were sold a lie. Sophia didn't show you how to be strong. She didn't teach you how to fight back or use your head. All she showed you was how fucked up she was, and you couldn't see it." There was a slight clink of metal on metal.
Emma's heart leapt up into her throat as she saw the familiar flute. It had been cleaned meticulously, perhaps by seawater or perhaps by simple care, but it still showed all the damage done to it. Battered, dented, unplayable, unusable. A defiled memory of a dead mother. She looked up into Taylor's still-glowing eyes, her heart racing with fear.
"I see you recognize it." Taylor spoke, her anger tightly restrained, though very visible. "I wondered whether it was you or Sophia that tossed it into the bay."
Somehow, the flute seemed to loom large. Beyond Taylor herself, it was the largest reminder of her crime, the biggest symbol of what she had thrown away in her efforts to be strong. Everything their friendship had been. Taylor took the flute back as Emma's fingers reached for it, almost instinctively.
Taylor's voice was filled with rage as she spoke. "No. You don't get to touch it. Not again, Emma. Never again. You've hurt me a thousand times over. You have no privileges. No leeway. When you get out of here, if you ever do, you'd best tread very, very carefully."
Emma could only cringe back, the fear nearly overpowering.
Taylor's eyes narrowed as she spoke, sharp fangs visible with her curled lips. "You know, when you started on your little campaign of torture on me, I'd hoped you had some good reason. Sophia twisting your head, maybe. Apparently she's a twisted little psycho. Or even maybe something I did. Not being with you during something, or maybe even saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. It would have angered me, but I could get it. But this? No. I understand completely now, Emma. It never was about me, was it? It was all about you. From the beginning. About everything. Even when we first met, it was about you."
The room darkened into shadow, despite the lights buzzing above them. Emma managed, barely, to strangle out." W-wait!"
Taylor got to her feet, shadows and darkness seeming to boil off her, burning with power. "I heard you accepted the plea bargain. Fifteen years for my life, for everything you put me through. In the world from which I gained my power, what you did would have had you burnt at the stake. You got off lightly for all this." Her eyes flared with red light, her anger seeming to rise to a peak. "But you only chose to admit what you did after you'd been caught. Had you not been arrested, would you have ever confessed to what you did? Or would you have just tried to forget me? Forget the blood on your hands? Just have a nice, long, happy life...ignoring the corpse you left behind?"
Emma's mouth gaped as she tried to speak, to utter a denial. Only...she couldn't. That...
Taylor let out a sound of satisfaction. "I thought so. I can never forgive you for what you have done. For everything you put me through. For the fact I am dead. For what you did to my father. For the fact you tried to hide and run." She growled, and the sound was only vaguely human. "There was a time when I would have named my daughter after you, if I ever had one. You were my sister in all but blood. Now? You broke that bond. It is only because of who I am that I am not just another corpse. I am now the Dragon. And from this moment forth, my former sister in all but blood... no matter what you accomplish, no matter what you do, no matter how much you might beg for it, I shall never forgive you. You are and forever will be beneath me."
In a pulse of shadow, Taylor was gone.
Emma could only sit there and sob.
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