Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern [Worm Fanfic]

[barenhart]

I was hoping people would pick up on that.

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Ooh, nice! I like the touch of using the same cast from Slippery Slope in this context, so we can see them from the other side, so to speak. I certainly don't envy this particular iteration of Peter or Fergusson Senior; having both Hookwolf and Kaiser personally peeved with them is a decidedly uncomfortable place to be.

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Totally agree, it was great to see the reflection and how just a little twist from Slippery to Intern can utterly change the situation.

I am more looking forward to the upcoming escalation based on Taylor's newfound determination to protect Medhall's reputation from those racist E88ers. Heh.

 

[Enochi]

Enjoyed this but still hope we get some more Slippery Slope soon.... I forget Ack do you do commissions cause I have one that I'm shopping around that has Empire Taylor (Though she is mind controlling them into 50s American Pie Stereotypes)

 

[Crazael]

"Bradley … Fieldmark?" Mr Ferguson seemed about to ask more questions, then stopped.

"Yeah." Greg nodded. "He's the head of security at Medhall. Him and Ms Jurist have been showing me a few moves since the Shadow Stalker thing."

"Hmm. I see." Edward Ferguson rubbed his chin between forefinger and thumb.

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Greg: Hookwolf and Cricket personally taught me the moves I used to give your son the beatdown.

I began to wonder exactly how good Medhall's vetting process was. The last thing Mr Anders would want was for white supremacists to infiltrate his company.

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Oh man, the accidental comedy of this line is fantastic.

 

[NavigatorNobilis]

Oh man, the accidental comedy of this line is fantastic.

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This, so much this. I barely kept from laughing out loud.

Also, damn it, stop making the Nazis (the leadership, at least, but they're also Parahumans, which makes it doubly ridiculous!) seem somewhat sane and competent - I want them as the puppy-killing morons we all know and love to hate!

 

[Ack]

Enjoyed this but still hope we get some more Slippery Slope soon.... I forget Ack do you do commissions cause I have one that I'm shopping around that has Empire Taylor (Though she is mind controlling them into 50s American Pie Stereotypes)

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Sorry. Not at the moment.

Slippery Slope will be coming around the voting pool sooner or later.

 

[Zackarix]

It's hilarious to see the Empire 88 trying to court Greg Vedar.

And hello there, Peter. Interesting to see what you're like when you're not laying the lovebombing on thick.

 

[Sto Odin]

Over in Slippery Slope, I noticed that one of Peter's first go-to strategies is threatening people's families: when he's not being deliberately charming, he's a nasty piece of work. One of the things that makes him a good character.

Here, I'm not sure how much trouble they'll actually get into. It's kind of looking like Ferguson pere will open by apologizing to his brother-in-law for failing due diligence, and he can legitimately claim to have done a pretty good job of damage control once he shifted modes. And the shorter that conversation, the less likely it is to occur to Max that Taylor might start actively looking for E88 'infiltration' of Medhall.

As a slice of life, this story remains delightful, even if I had been hoping we'd reach Saturday training. But hey, now we have the additional question: is Taylor or Greg going to mention the Empire around Rune, and how will she take it?

 

[Crazael]

But hey, now we have the additional question: is Taylor or Greg going to mention the Empire around Rune, and how will she take it?

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Probably not. They seemed pretty reluctant to talk about it to Brad, who they both trust fairly well, until he assured them he would keep the secret.

 

[Robert Stadler]

The three-way conversation between the junior E88 squad, Taylor/Greg, and the E88 capes reminds me of the classic Batman episode where Adam West uses 2 phones to conduct a three-way conversation between Bruce Wayne, Commissioner Gordon, and Batman. In both cases, everyone is playing it straight, and it's hilarious.

 

[Death by Chains]

"Well, it went a lot better than most every other time I complained to the principal," Taylor murmured. "At least this time, the other guys copped it on the chin too."

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Divergent Dialects strike again! AFAIK, Ack, 'copped it' is an expression peculiar to Commonwealth English — I think an American like Taylor is more likely to say something like 'took it on the chin'.

That correction aside, awesome as always! I could almost hear the record-scratch when Ferguson Senior realised exactly who had been instructing Greg in combat techniques and tactics.

 

[Ack]

Divergent Dialects strike again! AFAIK, Ack, 'copped it' is an expression peculiar to Commonwealth English — I think an American like Taylor is more likely to say something like 'took it on the chin'.

That correction aside, awesome as always! I could almost hear the record-scratch when Ferguson Senior realised exactly who had been instructing Greg in combat techniques and tactics.

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Thanks. I will address that.

 

[SamueLewis]

I began to wonder exactly how good Medhall's vetting process was. The last thing Mr Anders would want was for white supremacists to infiltrate his company. The damage they could do to the good name of the business would be catastrophic.

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Good, now she has a reason to clean up the company

 

[Crazael]

Good, now she has a reason to clean up the company

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And I'm now picturing her nervously requesting a private meeting with Mr. Anders so she can present him with all the evidence she has that Medhall's upper management has been thoroughly infiltrated by Nazis, including proof of the identities of most of the Empire's capes, the only exceptions being Kaiser himself and Rune.

 

[Ack]

Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern

Part Sixteen: Training Day

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Friday Night, October 1, 2010
Medhall Building

Kaiser

The sun had long since set, the lights of Brockton Bay competing with the pearlescent glow of the force field over the Protectorate headquarters in the bay, when the discreet tap sounded on Max's office door. "Enter," he called out, at the same time pressing the button under his desk that electronically unlocked the door.

As he'd expected, Ed Ferguson entered first, followed by young Peter. Bradley followed behind them, firmly closing the door.

"Edward," Max said. "Peter. Sit." The two chairs in front of his desk were the least comfortable ones in the building. Uncushioned, they had straight backs and were just low enough that he was looking down at Ed and Peter once they took a seat. Bradley stepped in behind them and just loomed there, out of their peripheral vision but close enough that they'd be constantly aware of his presence. "Tell me why you're here."

His brother-in-law was almost succeeding in not looking nervous, but Peter was sweating bullets. That was something the boy would have to learn to control, if he wanted to be successful either as a cape (once he got his powers) or in business.

Neither one spoke. Max let the silence stretch out, not giving them any reprieves.

Finally, Ed got the hint and nudged his son. Peter started slightly, then cleared his throat. "I, uh, we're here because I fu-, uh, I screwed up."

"Yes. You did." Max let his gaze bore into Peter's. "What did you do to screw up?"

Peter drew a deep breath. He was sweating more than ever, now. This was entirely understandable—nobody enjoyed being held to account for their actions—but Max's gaze never shifted. It was imperative that the boy learn from his mistakes. If he could.

Looking like he wanted to close his eyes—that would be a mistake, too—Peter visibly mustered the courage to speak. "I pressured the Hebert girl and the Veder boy too hard at school."

Max nodded once, curtly. "Details."

By now, Peter looked as though he were strongly considering death as a viable alternative to this interrogation. Again, this was unsurprising; quite aside from his elevated social stature within the Empire set, he was tall, good-looking and intelligent. He'd grown used to never having to answer for his actions—aside from the narrowly-avoided scandal involving his ex-girlfriend's pregnancy hoax, of course—to the point that he'd evidently decided that he didn't have to answer for anything.

It was Max's intention to impress upon him that such an attitude required a decade or two more of preparation before it would be appropriate. The boy was a blood relation and had potential, and he was of course a true believer, just the way Max liked his subordinates. But it remained to be seen whether he could learn this most important of lessons in a timely manner.

Peter took another deep breath, this one somewhat more ragged. "When they said no the first time, I should've backed off. Instead, I tried to frighten them into signing up. I, uh …" He winced at the expected rebuke as he spoke the next few words. "I told them that they needed the Empire Eighty-Eight's protection."

Max didn't react, though that was only because Bradley had already filled him in. From the way Ed looked at his boy he'd probably been hoping that it wouldn't come up.

"I see." Max made a slight go-on gesture with his hand. "Continue." Unspoken was the absolute certainty that Peter's fuckups hadn't stopped there.

By now, Peter was performing one continuous wince. "After they turned us down that time, I had Jenna and the others follow the Hebert girl to the bathrooms, while I cornered Veder with some of the guys outside. The idea was to divide and conquer, and stampede them into our ranks. Jenna bad-mouthed Veder to Hebert, and I bad-mouthed Hebert to Veder. It, uh, it didn't go well."

Max didn't bother to speak. He merely waited.

Peter didn't leave things hanging nearly as long, this time. "Uh, Jenna didn't get any kind of rise out of Hebert, except to ask Jenna where she'd been when Hess had been bullying her. But when I called Hebert a, uh, skanky nobody, Veder grabbed my arm and did a hip-throw on me, then shoulder-charged Bronson into the wall. George, uh, grabbed him around the arms from behind …" He trailed off.

"To restrain him without hurting him any further, no doubt?" Max's voice was sharp. He knew what came next, and the way Peter presented it would strongly influence the boy's future in the Empire Eighty-Eight.

To his credit, Peter shook his head. "No, uh, no, sir. Bronson and me … we started hitting him. Then the Hebert girl came up and hit George from behind with her backpack, and he let Veder go. I, uh, I punched Hebert then, because she'd hit George. Veder charged me into the wall, and that's when the gym teacher showed up and stopped it."

"Which was extremely fortunate for you," Max observed, keeping his voice light. "Had either Ms Hebert or Mr Veder been significantly injured, I would have been taking direct reparations out of your sorry hide." He sat forward. "In fact, there were several fortunate instances over the last few days, including your decision to tell the complete truth. You see, building security spotted the marks your people left on Hebert and Veder. Because we have a vested interest in them not being bullied, they were directed on to Bradley. They told him about everything, including your claim to being in the Empire Eighty-Eight. This allowed him to advise them to tell nobody about it, thus avoiding yet another potential sticky situation."

Bradley lifted his chin, silently asking permission to speak. Max nodded, interested in what he had to say. "Young Taylor's a smart kid," the big man said. "She'd already decided not to spread it around, in case it wasn't true. I just reinforced that."

Max couldn't have gotten a better opening if he'd set it up in advance. "That's right. Taylor Hebert is a very smart young lady. In the short time she's been working for us, she's not only performed exemplary work, but she's also spotted and forestalled more than one potential problem ahead of time. On the business side of things, she's saved us at least a million dollars just from spotting things nobody else did. She's personally responsible for preventing the entire Empire Eighty-Eight from being outed. She also saved Victor's life, and alerted us to the fact that it was Shadow Stalker invading the building, not so long ago. And when Stalker murdered Crusader, Taylor was the one who went into the car and saved his girlfriend."

"The Veder kid's no slouch either," Bradley said, smoothly taking up the narrative. "He was a hot mess when he first got here, but between her and the janitorial crew, he soon straightened up. Saved Taylor's life at school when those little cocksuckers were gonna shove her in a locker and empty a pepper spray canister in there with her. Hess cleaned his clock, but he got up and came back for more. Then he saved Ms Harcourt and some of her girls, and took out Stalker solo. Kid's got real potential."

"They both do," Max agreed. "And all of this they did without knowing who they were working for. If they're opposed to being members of the Empire Eighty-Eight, then I say we need never let them know. Their work is exemplary either way." The message was plain. Back off.

"Uh … if I may say something?" ventured Ed Ferguson.

Max nodded. "Proceed."

"This is partly my fault too. I'd heard about some of what they'd done, and I mused aloud that their talents were wasted outside the Empire Eighty-Eight. Peter was just doing what he thought I wanted him to do. Also, once the facts were made plain to me, I ensured that Peter apologised to both of them and gave his assurances that he wouldn't bother them anymore."

"I know." Max sat forward for the first time. "That's the only thing saving you, right now. But you also both screwed up massively, and it's only by pure luck that the fallout isn't worse. Edward, you should be careful in what you say, and how you say it. Peter, you need to learn to separate wishful thinking from intent." He left unspoken the phrase and for fuck's sake learn how to handle a reluctant recruitment. It was well understood by all parties. "And so, a penalty must be incurred." He looked from one to the other, considering. Judging.

"I … I can pay—" ventured Ed, then cut off with a grunt of pain as Bradley's hand descended on his shoulder and squeezed.

"Not money," Max decided. "Peter, your choice is to face Bradley in the cage for five minutes, no holds barred, or your father in the boxing ring for three timed rounds." He knew that Ferguson already used boxing as a way to physically discipline his son, and was quite adept at the sport.

Peter let out a strangled gulp, eyes flicking from side to side in an unconscious attempt to escape the situation. He was screwed either way, and they all knew it. Bradley would play cat-and-mouse, battering him around the cage but never quite putting him down and out until the last ten seconds. Going into the ring, though, meant that his father would have to do the job himself.

"Well?" Max raised his eyebrows. "You have ten seconds before I make the decision for you."

"D-Dad!" blurted Peter. "I choose Dad. Boxing." His eyes cut sideways to his father, and he whispered, "Sorry," just loudly enough for Max to hear.

Ed's expression collapsed in on itself. Max knew what he'd realised with Peter's choice. He would now be obliged to give his son the beating of his life, just to placate Max going forward.

"Your father, it is." Max looked at Ed, his gaze narrowing. "I expect to see the footage of the bout on my desk by tomorrow."

It wasn't that he didn't trust Ed—the man did his job competently and well—but the temptation to hold back just a little and spare his son would've definitely been there. Now, even that loophole had been removed.

Ed would follow through, of course. Max knew him too well to consider otherwise. But both he and Peter would learn a valuable lesson from this.

And maybe next time they won't mess with the golden goose.

<><>​

Hebert Household
Saturday Morning

Taylor

I was settling down on the sofa to watch some TV when someone climbed the front steps and knocked on the door. Frowning, I got up and headed toward the entrance hall. "Were we expecting someone?" I called over my shoulder to Dad.

"Not that I know of." He came out of the kitchen as I reached the front door and opened it.

Greg stood there, grinning broadly; behind him was his mother, whom I'd met on Thursday at Winslow. We hadn't done much more than swap introductions, but I'd gotten a good vibe off her.

"Hi!" He stepped forward and hugged me. I returned the hug, as a matter of course.

"Hi, yourself," I replied at my wittiest, disengaging from the hug. "Hi, Mrs Veder. Good to meet you again."

"Hello, Taylor." Mrs Veder shook my hand (fortuitously, Greg had grabbed my left hand). "It's nice to meet you without other things going on. Greg has told me so much about you."

"About three-quarters of that is probably exaggeration," I said defensively. "I'm just normal."

"Uh huh," he said, raising his eyebrows. "Normal. Right. Sure. I bet if I told Bradley or Mr Grayson that you said you were 'just normal' they'd have a different opinion."

I felt my face get hot. "They're biased."

Dad joined us at this point. "Hi. Pleased to meet you again. Call me Danny."

"Likewise. Nina." She reached past me to shake his hand as well.

It was getting a little crowded in the entrance hall, so we moved back into the living room. I smiled at Greg and he beamed back at me, until I broke the silence with the obvious question. "Don't think I'm not pleased to see you, because I totally am … but why are you here? I thought we were going to be meeting up at Medhall around noon or so."

Mrs Veder raised her eyebrows at her son. "Greg, seriously? I thought you were going to call ahead."

He stared back. "I thought you were going to call ahead!"

Dad chuckled. "And so, nobody called ahead. I've definitely been there before. Okay, why are you here?"

Greg broke the staring contest with his mother to look at me. "I was thinking we could go over the material we covered in class on Thursday—you know, before we were kicked out of school—and read ahead a bit so when we start again on Monday, we know what's going on."

I blinked. "That's … actually a really good idea. But you know, we've got all Sunday to do that."

He flushed slightly at my praise, then held up a finger. "You know we're going to have bruises on Sunday, probably in places that'll make it uncomfortable to sit down for long periods, right? So, I figured we could do it today. Got Mom to give me a lift, and here we are."

"Ah. Good point." From what he'd told me about the physical training Bradley and the other guard—I couldn't remember her name—were putting him through, the big guy wouldn't even consider going easy on us. Not that I'd want him to. If I was going to be doing self-defense training, I wanted to be able to defend myself.

"So, you think we should?" He looked at me anxiously, as though I was about to shoot down his idea.

"Oh, totally." I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I should've thought of that myself."

He shrugged modestly. "I basically asked myself what would Taylor do? and that's what I came up with."

I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. "Keep that up, buster, and see what you get."

"Why, what will I get?" he asked innocently.

"This." I let go his hand and put my arms around him. In deference to the fact that Dad and Mrs Veder were right there, I kissed him on the cheek instead of the lips (I still was pretty shy about that sort of thing, to be honest) but I made it a pretty solid kiss anyway.

"So how long have you two been dating, anyway?" asked Greg's mom as I let him go.

Greg and I glanced at each other. "Friday, last week?" I hazarded. "We hung out at Fugly's, after work?"

He nodded. "But we only realised that we were actually dating on Tuesday, when you asked me if we were."

"Of course, I liked you before that," I finished. "When you tackled Sophia, that was a massive plus in my book."

His blush should've lit up the room. "Well, I couldn't not do something. You've been helping me get my head on straight ever since we started at Medhall. Nobody else even cared enough to try."

It was my turn to shrug awkwardly. "I just gave you a few pointers, that's all."

Dad chuckled. "They've been an item longer than that, but they just didn't realise it." He turned to me. "Remember when I asked you how the boyfriend was, and you blew up at me?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Tracey asked me the same question, the next day. So I'm clueless when it comes to that sort of thing. Sue me."

"If you're clueless, then I'm double clueless," Greg chimed in loyally. "You had to point out that we were dating before I even realised it."

"Well, all I know is that he's been tidying up his own room and doing his own laundry since shortly after he started at Medhall," Mrs Veder announced. "Up until now, I'd thought it was the responsibility of whatever they've got him doing there, but it seems like you've got something to do with it too." She gave me an approving look.

"That doesn't surprise me," agreed Dad. "They've been doing group projects for school together, and getting some very impressive marks. What did you get for that last one? Ninety-five percent?"

"Ninety-seven," I corrected him, realising too late that he damn well knew the right figure but was giving me the chance to say it. "But that was mainly the Book."

"Which you got through the people at Medhall," he pointed out with a grin. "Just another thing we can thank that place for."

"One of the many things, yeah," Greg agreed. "So anyway, I brought my textbooks in the car. Want me to grab them, so we can get started?"

"Sure." I gave him a smile. "I'll just duck upstairs and get mine. Is it okay if we take up the sofa, Dad?"

"I've got no problem with that." Dad turned to Mrs Veder as Greg headed for the door. "Would you like a cup of tea, or did you have to go straight away?"

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." She followed him into the kitchen. "I suspect there's a lot of gossip I need to catch up on, about my son and your daughter."

I heard the clink as he put the kettle on the stove, and the soft whoosh as the burner ignited. "Gossip? Hardly. We're merely sharing information." The amusement was plain in his voice.

She chuckled. "As I said. Gossip."

<><>​

Medhall Building, a Little After Noon

Greg

"Just around the back here, Mr Hebert." Greg pointed at the entrance sign he'd been looking for. "That's the guest parking lot through there."

"Huh." Mr Hebert slowed to negotiate the turn. "I don't think I would've spotted that. Nicely done."

Greg shrugged. "That's the way Bradley told me to come in. No big deal."

"Still pretty cool," Taylor said. "I only talk to Bradley every now and again. You get to work with him."

"Hardly." Greg snorted. "He's security. I'm maintenance. He's only humouring me because I got lucky and took down Shadow Stalker. Now, someone like Brian? He's a lot better suited to doing security work than me." It was an incontestable truth. Brian had something like six inches and a hundred pounds on Greg (maybe not that much, but close to it) and had muscles on his muscles.

The car trundled down the narrow side-street, then pulled around into a small parking lot. Entirely hidden from the street, it boasted twenty or thirty painted parking spots, of which three were filled. Mr Hebert picked one apparently at random, and pulled the car to a halt in it. "Okay," he said. "Now what?"

Greg was once more glad Bradley had gone over this with him in detail. "Now we take our workout gear and go over to that security door, and get buzzed in." He pointed to the solid metal door in the side of the building, which was covered by a security camera. "Bradley said he'd meet us there."

Mr Hebert nodded. "Well, then. It looks like this is where I leave you. What time do you think you'll need to be picked up?"

"Oh, we've got that figured out," Taylor assured him. "We'll be finishing up in time to catch the last bus. If we miss it, we'll give you a call and chill in the lobby until you show up."

He chuckled. "Well, aren't we organised? Okay, it sounds like a plan. Have fun and kick ass."

"Get our asses kicked, more like." Greg wasn't complaining, merely making a prediction. Besides, he'd been beaten up before. This time, at least, he was going to learn from the experience.

They got out of the car with their backpacks slung over their shoulders. Greg had originally figured he'd carry his workout clothing rolled up, but Taylor had reminded him that it was a good idea to not leave their other clothing lying around loose. They didn't want Bradley and whoever else was doing the training to think they were total slobs or whatever. At her suggestion, they'd also each packed a towel (he'd borrowed one for the duration) in case they needed a shower before getting ready to go home.

He honestly had no idea how he'd gotten along before he met Taylor.

As they headed for the door, Taylor looked across at him. "I like your mom. She's nice."

Now, what was a guy supposed to say to that? "Thanks." That didn't seem to be enough, so he kept talking. "My dad died before I was born, so she sometimes gets really overprotective and stuff. I'm glad she's fine with me coming to Medhall and learning how to defend myself."

She looked at him with sympathy. "Wow, that's got to suck." Putting an arm around his shoulders, she gave him a firm side-hug. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Nah, it's okay." He gave her a smile that was part grimace. "Stupid accident. They were getting ready to get married, but his brakes failed coming home from work one day. So she raised me on her own. I'm pretty sure she won't let me get my driving license until I'm fifty."

"Yeah, I know how that goes." And from the tone of her voice, he knew she did.

The reached the door, and he glanced up at the security camera. It had a good solid view of them, so he pressed the red call button. A couple of seconds passed, then the speaker crackled. "Veder and Hebert, yes?"

Greg nodded. "That's us."

"Good. Right on time. Come on in." The electronic lock clicked, and the tiny light over it turned from red to green.

Greg grasped the door handle and pulled; it opened easily. "Ready to get your ass kicked for a good cause?"

Taylor grinned tightly. "Let's do this."

She stepped inside; he followed along.

<><>​

Rune

The sweatpants and sports top were itchy, and felt weird. Tammi couldn't wait to get back into regular clothes, or her costume. It didn't matter which one. The sooner Kaiser and Hookwolf figured out that she wasn't going to learn anything from this bullshit self-defense thing, the better.

So what if those ABB assholes had nearly gotten her backpack? She would've called the troops together and gone after them, and smeared them into the pavement for their fucking arrogance. By the time their cretinous minds even figured out what they had their grubby little hands on (if they ever did, which was nowhere near certain) they would've been roadkill. Figuratively, if not literally.

But for now she had to suffer through this utter waste of a good Saturday afternoon. At least she wasn't the only one; coming out of the other side of the changing room was Theo, looking at least as uncomfortable as she felt. Now he was definitely someone who could stand to do some exercise and lose a few pounds. As it was, none of the girls were ever going to give him a second look, even with the cachet of being the son of Max Anders. A suave millionaire playboy, he wasn't.

"Hey," he said miserably. "You're here, too?"

She didn't hate him so much as she simply wasn't interested in him—the one time the idea of her pairing up with him was floated, she'd shot it down hard enough to ensure it never came up again—so she nodded curtly. "What'd you do?"

"Nothing." His eyes immediately drifted away from her, and his entire body language shouted at once, I'm lying! "What makes you think I did anything?"

She snorted. "Because your dad says I fucked up, and that's why I'm here. You're usually the invisible guy, so you being here means you must've done something."

He scuffed at the carpet with his soft, pink toes. Even his feet were fat. "Got drunk at Justin's wake. Then I told my father I didn't want anything to do with Medhall."

Her eyebrows rose and she snorted with amusement. "Well, damn. I am impressed. Were you hoping he'd disinherit you or something?" It would never happen, she knew. Max Anders … well, she didn't like to use the phrase 'control freak' about her boss, but he was absolutely a control freak.

"Not hoping. Wishing." He scuffed harder at the carpet. "Why can't he understand I don't want any of this? I don't like what you do, and I don't want to be a part of it."

She easily translated 'what you do' as everything to do with the cape side of the Empire Eighty-Eight. It really wasn't her problem, so she shrugged. "Maybe when you get yours, you'll think differently." She could tell he knew she meant when he triggered with powers. As a third-generation on one side and second-gen on the other, he was almost guaranteed to end up with them at some point. That he hadn't already must have been a constant source of frustration for Kaiser.

"Hey!" Bradley's voice, carrying a sharp edge of command, echoed down the corridor toward them. "You two! We're not starting until you show up, and everyone else is waiting on you!"

Biting back a sarcastic retort—she knew antagonising her self-defense coach when he was already pissed at her would be a spectacularly stupid move, on several levels—she turned away from Theo and headed in Bradley's direction. "Coming!" she called back. You can start without us if you're really that keen, she added in her own head.

When they emerged into the training room—a conference room with padded mats laid down across the floor—Tammi saw the other two students for the first time. She also saw the big black security guy was there as well, just like Bradley had said he would be. Melody was standing back with her arms folded while the black guy coached the boy and the girl through stretching exercises.

"Took you long enough," growled Bradley. "Theo, you haven't met Brian yet. He's gonna be one of your instructors today. You do what he says, just like with me or Melody. Got it?"

"Uh huh." Theo nodded, though Tammi caught the flicker of side-eye he sent her way. He didn't know what was important, so he wouldn't have a problem with one of them giving him orders, but he knew she thought differently. "I can do that."

"Good." Bradley raised his voice slightly. "Okay, Taylor, Greg, that's enough. Get your butts over here. Tammi, Theo, get over to Brian and do stretches with him. Go!"

Tammi eyed the girl—Taylor—as they passed each other by, and received an equally searching scrutiny in return. Taller than both Tammi and Melody by a few inches, Taylor looked skinny even in the baggy workout clothes she was wearing. She had long curly black hair, tied back in a ponytail for the moment, and glasses that made her eyes look huge. Tammi's first impression was that Taylor didn't look like someone who was all that, but then she recalled Othala's description of her deeds. Her cousin wasn't someone who was easily impressed.

She didn't get as good a look at Greg, but he was just a boy anyway. Not all that good looking, or muscular, or anything else that would draw her attention. Sure, he'd taken down Shadow Stalker, but anyone could get lucky once.

"Tammi and Theo, right?" The black guy—Brian—seemed to tower over both of them, and Tammi fought the urge to step back away from him. Fuck, he's like King Kong. "I'm just going to get you to do some basic stretching exercises, so you don't hurt yourselves when we get into the real stuff. Before we start, do either of you do martial arts, or any kind of athletics on a regular basis?"

Theo shook his head mournfully, while Tammi suppressed the urge to sneer. Like one of them can teach me anything. But he wanted an answer, and Bradley was right there in the room, so she gritted her teeth and shook her head as well. "Nope."

"Okay, then." Had that been a flicker of anger in his eyes? Did he know what was going through her mind? But his tone never changed. "Put your feet a shoulder-width apart, like this …"

As she reluctantly followed his instructions, every instinct shouting at her to put him in his place, she seethed with anger.

This was going to be a very long training session.

<><>​

Taylor

My joints definitely felt nice and loose, once Brian had finished with me and Greg. I hadn't been sure about the exercises, but Greg seemed to be familiar with them, so I'd done as I was told. While I probably still couldn't put my foot up near my ear—as Melody was doing as a kind of casual stretching exercise of her own—I was pretty sure I wouldn't pull any muscles by accident. Which was the whole purpose of the thing.

Belying every martial arts training montage I'd ever seen, the first thing we did was practise … falling. Once again, Greg seemed to already know how this went, so Bradley focused on me, showing me how to go down onto the mat from any angle so I didn't pop joints or break bones. By the time he was satisfied with my progress, Brian had finished with Tammi and Theo's stretching exercises and Melody was running through some basic holds and throws with Greg. He wasn't an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but he definitely knew a little bit about what he was doing. I knew exactly zero about it, so he was still one-up on me.

As we paused for a breather and a drink of water from the squeeze-bottles, I reflected that I could've done with those falling lessons a year ago, when Sophia's favourite occupation seemed to involve tripping me. She'd even gone so far as to push me down the last few steps of a flight of stairs, just enough that I'd fall hard and look stupid. Now, I knew what to do about a fall like that, but the person who'd made me need that knowledge was behind bars. Irony, thy name is Taylor Hebert.

Once Greg was warmed up, he graduated to trying to use his techniques on Bradley, which I figured would be a whole heap harder. Melody took over with me, showing me the same things Greg was trying to do with Bradley, while Brian started Tammi and Theo in on falls. From what little I could see of the other two, Theo was trying but not very hard, and Tammi just plain didn't want anything to do with the training. Again, I wondered what her story was, and why she'd been shoehorned into this class.

Theo, I figured, was here for a little educational punishment duty; he must've screwed up his speech to his dad about not wanting to take over Medhall, or maybe Mr Anders had found out about his drinking. But if Tammi had been at that party, she certainly hadn't been drinking and making a public spectacle of herself. She was a mystery, and my work so far at Medhall had taught me that mysteries existed to be solved.

Melody didn't talk much, but she could sure teach me how to apply a joint lock or perform one of several throws. When applying the locks, she was smooth as silk and fast as a striking snake; one moment I had freedom of movement and the next my arm was trapped in an iron grip. Even the slightest twist on her part would have me rising on my tiptoes in a way I wouldn't have thought possible.

The throws were equally deadly, in a manner of speaking. She was shorter than me—most women were shorter than me—but all I had to do was blink and I'd find the room rotating around me in a way it really wasn't supposed to. It was around then that I found out exactly why we'd been practicing falls so assiduously. I got to try them out some more, for free.

I got to try the moves on her, too, of course, but I knew damn well she was letting me do it, every step of the way. Still, the feeling of achievement when I pulled off my first successful hip throw was amazing. Though barely had she hit the mat when she bounced up again, critiqued my technique, and made me do it again. And again. And again.

"Okay," Bradley announced after depositing Greg on the mat yet again (I was pretty sure he'd pulled off exactly one successful throw against the big guy, and like Melody, Bradley had allowed it). "Taylor, Greg, take ten. Brian, are Theo and Tammi good on falls?"

Brian nodded. "Good as I can get 'em, sir."

I panted as I slid down to sit against the wall. Greg, sweating harder than I was, plonked himself next to me. He handed me my squeeze-bottle, then bumped his knuckles against mine. "You're killing it, Taylor. Really."

"I dunno," I said quietly. I squirted water into my mouth; even at room temperature, it was heavenly. "I'm just a rag doll to Melody. Up against Bradley, I'd be a doormat."

"Yeah, but these guys are professionals," he reminded me. "They've been doing this for years. We've been doing this for a total of hours, if that."

"That's true." I felt a bit better about things.

We settled down to watch how Theo and Tammi took to learning locks and throws. From the outside, it was very educational.

<><>​

Kaiser

Max's phone pinged with a text message. Leaning back in his office chair, he brought it up. On the way up. I've got the footage. Ed.

He tossed the phone back onto the desk, not bothering to send a reply. It was regrettable that he'd had to force Ed to discipline his boy like that, but there was no better motivator than pain, whether it was the physical pain of being beaten or the emotional pain of punishing a loved one. Peter had needed to learn the lesson, and so had Ed.

It was funny; back in the day, he'd never really wanted to inherit the Empire Eighty-Eight. Running Medhall had been all he wanted to do, leaving the leadership of the Empire to his sister Heidi. But somehow she'd gotten the idea he was planning to usurp her position, even after Allfather made the official announcement stating that she was his choice to step up as leader once he retired.

Nothing was stated outright; she'd known how good he was at talking, so she never made any accusations that he could refute. But the politicking within the team had become intense enough to cause rifts between some of the members. Max wasn't sure if Allfather had known about it and either allowed it to run its course or was unable to stop it, or if he'd been oblivious to the whole thing. Either way, he hadn't stepped in.

It came to a head during a fight with the Teeth. Earlier in the day, a few Empire capes had been ambushed, leading to the death of Max's wife Alexis, otherwise known as Heith. Berserk with grief, Max hadn't cared who he killed; he'd just wanted them to experience the loss that he felt. Armoured from head to toe, slashing at his foes with iron spikes, he'd pushed toward the thickest part of the fray.

Only when several iron spears plunged past him, missing by the merest of margins, did he begin to pay attention to what was going on around him. Not all that far away, her eyes fixed on him, was his sister. She flicked her hand and another dozen razor-tipped metal shafts dropped out of the sky onto the enemy, though two targeted him instead. It was only with a frantic dodge that he'd evaded both.

At that moment, the tide of the battle changed. Butcher himself charged forward, taking advantage of Iron Rain's distraction. Max was the only one who could both see her vulnerability and do something about it, but in that moment he knew what he had to do. Once their father was out of the picture—as Allfather, Richard Anders put up a good front, but long-standing injuries were beginning to take their toll—Heidi would stop at nothing to remove him as a perceived threat to her leadership of the Empire Eighty-Eight. She posed a clear and present danger to his life and well-being, and would continue to do so for as long as she lived.

He could have generated a fence of spikes and shielded her for the few seconds she needed to retreat, but he did nothing of the sort. If she wanted to treacherously attack him in the middle of a fight, then she could reap the whirlwind. The last thing he saw before Butcher and a couple of the Teeth dogpiled her was the look of utter terror on her face.

No blame was officially attached to him after the battle, though he saw Allfather sag when he learned of her death. Those few who had seen him withhold his protection would also have seen her spears seeking his life, and very likely chose to stay quiet in place of risking their lives by speaking out. Interestingly, her former partisans were now among those most vocal in their support of him.

At that time, the ethos of the Empire Eighty-Eight was very strongly based around honour and 'face'. Butcher was the one who had gotten the final blow on Iron Rain, so once this was announced it would be expected that Allfather would seek vengeance, one-on-one, with his daughter's killer. Nobody wanted this; either Allfather would die (most likely) or he would become the new Butcher and be driven insane by the voices. So, a deal was worked out under the table with Marquis. In return for a few concessions on territory, the osteokinetic would claim the kill on Iron Rain. This would boost his reputation, he would engage in a few inconclusive battles with Allfather, and honour would be satisfied.

In the end, Allfather died of a heart attack before the scripted battles could take place. Kaiser, as the only potential heir, ended up as head of both Medhall and the Empire Eighty-Eight. He still didn't believe in the Nazi rhetoric, but it was damned useful for gathering disaffected white supremacists to his gang, so he mouthed the phrases and turned a blind eye to the violence against the minorities.

But from all this, he'd learned one valuable lesson: a leader must remain on top of any potential problems, before they became actual problems. If Allfather had laid down the law with Iron Rain, she wouldn't have tried to kill Max, and she could've been running the Empire to this day. But he'd let it slide (or never even noticed it) and so she died when she could have lived.

Max had sworn to himself that he would never let such things get so bad under his tenure, which meant that from time to time, people had to suffer for the good of all. Some might have seen his punishment of Peter as being too harsh, whereas he figured it was just harsh enough. Peter would recover, and he would never forget the penalty for fucking up.

He looked up as Ed tapped on the door; reaching under the desk, he pressed the button that unlocked it. "Come in!" he called.

The door opened and Ed Ferguson entered. The man looked like he'd aged ten years overnight, and he carried with him a latest-model electronic tablet. "Max," he said, his voice slightly ragged.

"Good afternoon, Ed." Max spoke as though the unpleasantness had never happened. Once a punishment was over, it was forgotten. "You've got something for me?"

"Yes." Ed passed the tablet over the desk. "I hope this is enough."

"I'm sure it is," Max said warmly. "Why don't you take a seat?"

The chair in front of his desk was a much more comfortable model; Ed Ferguson dropped into it like a puppet with its strings cut. Max paid him no heed as he activated the tablet. There was just one icon on the screen, and he tapped it.

Ed Ferguson had a complete boxing ring setup in his basement, along with four separate digital video cameras designed to autosync into a four-window finished product. From what Max understood, he had originally set it up that way for training and instructional purposes; correcting someone's form was much easier with four different views of the subject matter. Just as Max had figured, it worked quite well for this.

Peter had started the bout by trying to cover up and stay on the retreat, but sharp words from his father had changed that. It had become an actual boxing match after that, albeit a mismatched one. While Peter had done his best to stand his ground and give as good as he got, it didn't work out that way. He'd been pummelled mercilessly from one end of the ring to the other, his only reprieve being the timer at the end of each round.

To his credit (not to mention Ed's skill as a boxer) he'd lasted all three rounds, only collapsing at the final bell. It had not been faked; Ed's gloves had punished him quite thoroughly, and Max was fairly certain it would take him a day or two to get back on his feet. All in all, a lesson well delivered.

"That all seems to be in order," he said, standing up and rounding the desk with the tablet in hand. "Thank you for bringing this in. We'll say no more about it."

Ed stood as well and accepted the tablet back. "Thank you." He even seemed to mean it.

Max nodded to his brother-in-law. "Let me know how he's going."

He watched as Ed walked out of the office, the door clicking shut behind him. That went well, I thought. Turning, he put the matter from his mind as he headed back to his desk. Other issues demanded his attention, and he needed to stay on top of things.

<><>​

Taylor

I faced Tammi, and Greg shaped up against Theo. "Locks and throws only," Bradley instructed us. "If you throw them, follow them down and get a lock. Once you're locked up, call 'yield' and you'll be let loose. Okay? Okay. Go."

She came in fast and aggressive; I gave ground, watching her eyes. Theo yelped as Greg took him out of the running with an arm-bar, but I didn't let my attention be distracted. Turning my body slightly, I trailed my arm out invitingly, and she took the bait.

She grabbed for my wrist, but I twisted the other way, got hold of her arm and did my best to pull off one of the more difficult throws Melody had shown me. I must've gotten it right, because Tammi squealed in outrage as her feet left the floor. She landed on her back on the mat, but I hadn't let go of her arm, and I moved to secure her.

There was still some fight in her, but she reached the wrong way and I got her arm around into a lock and held it. She kept struggling, all the way up until I tightened the hold and twisted just right; she let out a cry of pain, and I eased off the hold slightly. That was the wrong move, because she heaved hard enough to pull her arm free, and elbowed me in the jaw solidly enough to make me see stars. We rolled over and over for a few seconds, but I still had the upper hand and I yanked her other arm around into a lock. This time, I held it.

"Okay, Tammi, you're out," Brian announced from his position as referee. "Also, you would've lost anyway for that foul shot."

"What? No!" Tammi sounded outraged as I let her go and we climbed to our feet. "That was a total accident! And anyway, who says you're not allowed to hit someone when you're fighting?"

"Me," Bradley said, looming over her. "I said, locks and throws only. Fifty push-ups, right now. Taylor, you okay to face Greg now, or do you need to take a moment?"

I touched my jaw tenderly. It didn't feel like any teeth were loose, but it was still sore. "I might go and splash cold water on my face." I pointed at Greg. "And then I'm gonna come back and whip your ass."

"Yeah, yeah, bring it." Greg grinned as he made a come-at-me gesture.

"Go on," Bradley said, gesturing at the door. "Restrooms are just down the hall. Take your time. Theo, let's go over why you went down to Greg so quickly …"

I stepped out into the hallway and trotted down toward where I could see the sign for the restrooms, not far from the elevators. It only took me a moment to splash the water on my face to refresh myself and check for incipient bruising, then I leaned against the bench and looked myself in the eyes.

"I am kicking ass," I said softly. "I just won a fight."

It was a weird feeling. Tammi was only about a year younger than me, and a bit fitter, and she'd definitely been trying to win … and I'd beaten her. Even though my jaw was still aching a bit, the euphoria was there. I can actually do this. I can learn to win.

<><>​

Edward Ferguson

I just rolled over for him. I beat up my own son, then brought the proof in to him, then thanked him for letting me show him.

The elevator had never seemed so slow. Ed watched the numbers scroll past, the self-disgust building in his gut until he felt like a volcano about to blow. Finally, he jammed his hand on the stop button, and the elevator slid to a halt. The doors opened smoothly and silently, and he stepped out. He didn't know what floor he was on, but the restrooms were right there.

Storming into the men's side of the restrooms, he checked to make sure the stalls were all empty before letting out a scream of frustrated anger. Grabbing a stall door, he slammed it against its stop several times in a row, sending echoes throughout the restroom. "Fuuck!" he bellowed. "Shit shit fuck shiiiit FUUUUUCCK!"

Ed would do what Max told him; he knew that much. He'd followed Max's orders in the past, and he'd do so again in the future. But there was no rule that said he had to like it.

Running water into the nearest basin, he splashed some of it on his face, then checked his clothing and hair. He was presentable; outwardly, at least, he was fine. The outburst had taken the edge off his anger, so he could leave now without driving dangerously in the late afternoon traffic.

Strolling nonchalantly out of the restrooms, he entirely failed to see the teenage girl peering around the corner from the women's side.

<><>​

Greg

Taylor seemed a little perturbed when she came back into the room, but not so much that anyone else noticed. Under Brian's supervision, Tammi was still panting through her push-ups—and making far too much of a production out of them, in Greg's opinion—while Melody was re-instructing Theo in how to apply basic locks and throws. In the process of this, she was using Theo as the test dummy, so he was spending more time on his ass than his feet.

Yeah, been there, done that. Greg could sympathise. Theo gave the impression of someone who was entirely unready for physical confrontation, so when Greg put him in the arm-bar it had been like kicking a particularly defenceless puppy.

"Taylor, Greg, you ready?" asked Bradley. "I don't have to tell you two this, but I'll do it anyway. Locks and throws only. Nothing else."

Taylor nodded. "Got it, and I'm ready."

Greg matched her steely-eyed stare. "Likewise."

"Okay, then. Go!"

Neither one moved for a second or so, searching each other's eyes and stances for a weakness. Greg found none; Taylor was an adept student, which wasn't surprising. Melody had ways and means of making sure a lesson was taken seriously. Slowly, he started moving toward his left, and she began to do the same. They circled each other, expressions intent.

Taylor seemed to break first, reaching in with her arm and creating an opening, but Greg recognised it as the ploy she'd used on Tammi and didn't fall for it. He grinned and wiggled his fingers in a 'nice try' gesture. She responded by wrinkling her nose at him.

He attempted the next feint, grabbing for her arm but pulling back at the last second. As it was, he was nearly too slow; her fingertips grazed his wrist, almost getting a grip. He knew damn well that if she got ahold of him, or vice versa, the bout would be over.

And then he spotted it; the tiniest gap in her defenses. She was holding her elbows just a little too far away from her body, which meant that if he turned this way, and baited her into reaching that way, he could catch her wrist before she could pull back—

"Waaagh!" Thud.

Dizzily, as he lay face-down on the mat with Taylor kneeling in the middle of his back, he slowly reconstructed what had just happened. I thought I was baiting Taylor out. But she was baiting me the whole time. What he'd thought was an opening was a trap. And he'd fallen for it.

"Haha damn!" Bradley slapped his knees. "The look on your face when she took you down!"

"Yield," grunted Greg, and the pressure let up immediately. He rolled onto his back and lay there spread-eagled. "Maybe best of three?"

Taylor grinned and reached down to help him up. "Sure." Then she looked around at the wall-clock and her face fell. "Ugh. Nearly time for the bus."

Bradley nodded and dusted his hands off. "Okay, then. Good session, everyone. See you here next week." He gave Tammi and Theo a moderate glare. "That includes you two."

"Okay," grumped Tammi. Theo added his own unenthusiastic agreement, before Tammi pointed at Greg and Taylor. "What about those two?"

Bradley gave her a toothy grin. "They asked to be here."

"Oh." Tammi gave Greg a 'you have to be kidding' stare, then shook her head. "Okay, can we go now?"

"Sure thing." Bradley waved at them. "Beat it."

"Okay, see you around." Greg grabbed his backpack and headed for the door in Tammi's wake, with Taylor close behind.

They went down the corridor to the elevators, and Tammi hit the call button. When the elevator opened, she seemed to want to take it all to herself, but Taylor just stepped in, so Greg got in as well. Tammi hit the close-door button then, and the elevator shut in Theo's face. Greg didn't think that was very nice, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, Taylor elbowed him gently in the ribs. He shut up again.

"So, Tammi," Taylor ventured, sounding as polite and friendly as Greg had ever known her to, "where do you know Brian from? It's pretty obvious that you've met him before."

Just for a moment, Greg thought Tammi wasn't going to answer, but then she evidently changed her mind. "Oh, uh, some ABB assholes tried to grab my bag outside the front doors, and he came out and kicked their asses."

"Huh, cool," Greg commented. "That's kind of how we met him too. Only with us it was Merchants."

Tammi shrugged. "Well, street scum is street scum."

Taylor smiled sweetly. "Very true."

The elevator stopped on the first floor, and they stepped out into the corridor. Taylor waved. "See you next week."

"Yeah," grunted Tammi. "See you." She turned and headed off toward the back of the building, where the access to the exterior parking lot was.

Taylor led the way toward the front doors, waving at the desk security on the way past. Greg gave them a nod too; he was getting to know them by name.

Their timing was excellent; the bus pulled up at the stop just as they stepped out through the doors. "Wish I'd had time to take a shower," Taylor grumbled as they climbed on board.

"Meh, I know I've smelled worse," Greg quipped. "Remember the time they more or less bathed me in bleach?"

She chuckled as they found a pair of empty seats; as always, he let her take the window seat. "Pretty hard to forget that one." He sat down, with her beside him. Quite naturally, his hand fell into hers, and she squeezed it.

As the bus moved off, he looked quizzically at her. "So, what was that about in the elevator? Why'd you shut me up?"

"Not sure," she said pensively. "Do you think Tammi was treating Brian like someone who'd stopped someone else from snatching her bag?"

Greg paused, and thought back. The more he mulled over the concept, the more he frowned. "No," he admitted. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he kicked her puppy in a previous life."

"She definitely didn't like him," Taylor agreed. "Not one little bit. Which is odd as fuck for a way to treat someone who saved your stuff like that."

"I can't disagree with that." Greg tilted his head. "Also, when you came back from the restroom. You looked like you had a major problem, but you didn't say one word about it."

She gave him a beaming smile. "You're definitely a lot less clueless than you were before you started working at Medhall."

"I just figured it was a good idea to pay attention to you." He raised his eyebrows. "I notice you still haven't told me why you were upset."

"Not upset, exactly." She pursed her lips. "I spotted Peter Ferguson's dad, just coming out of the men's side. From the sound of it, he'd been throwing a major tantrum. Which raises a bigger question."

He got the gist immediately. "Yeah. Why would the father of someone who might be in the Empire Eighty-Eight be wandering around in the Medhall building?"

"Exactly." Her expression was thoughtful. "This bears looking into. We might just have uncovered another mole."

"Should we tell Mr Anders?" He knew he'd defer to her judgement either way.

"No." She shook her head definitively. "There might be an innocent explanation. I'm going to need to do some digging and make sure I've got all the facts before I bother him with this."

That seemed the safest bet. "Yeah," he agreed. "Good idea."



End of Part Sixteen

 

[Krein]

"This bears looking into. We might just have uncovered another mole."

Click to shrink...

Oh this will be hilarious.

 

[Dennis Simon Kenny]

By now, Peter was performing one continuous wince. "After they turned us down that time, I had Jenna and the others follow the Hebert girl to the bathrooms, while I cornered Veder with some of the guys outside. The idea was to divide and conquer, and stampede them into our ranks. Jenna ran down Veder, and I ran down Hebert. It, uh, it didn't go well."

Click to shrink...

Minor typo.

Ed would follow through, of course. Max knew him too well to consider otherwise. But both he and Peter would learn a valuable lesson from this.

And maybe next time they won't mess with the golden goose.

Click to shrink...

"Not upset, exactly." She pursed her lips. "I spotted Peter Ferguson's dad, just coming out of the men's side. From the sound of it, he'd been throwing a major tantrum. Which raises a bigger question."

He got the gist immediately. "Yeah. Why would the father of someone who might be in the Empire Eighty-Eight be wandering around in the Medhall building?"

"Exactly." Her expression was thoughtful. "This bears looking into. We might just have uncovered another mole."

Click to shrink...

It looks like Edward Ferguson's dead and he doesn't know it yet.

 

[Sto Odin]

Great chapter, and an elegant way to bring the two threads together. And Peter failing a moral test again pushes the plot forward without anyone realizing it.

If the stars align juuust right, Tammi can start treating Brian like a human being (crush optional) at the same time as Taylor works out who she is ... making her jump to the conclusion that Max and Brad were deliberately trying to reform Rune.

 

[SilverBadger]

If the stars align juuust right, Tammi can start treating Brian like a human being (crush optional) at the same time as Taylor works out who she is ... making her jump to the conclusion that Max and Brad were deliberately trying to reform Rune.

Click to shrink...

I would love to see this misunderstanding so much. I was worried we were headed directly for reveal territory, which is sad because I don't want this story to end haha.

Amazing writing, Ack. I am extremely invested in the Whacky Adventures of a Secretary and a Janitor. (Every time I read this, my brain keeps picturing it like a 90s cartoon.)

 

[Ack]

Minor typo.



It looks like Edward Ferguson's dead and he doesn't know it yet.

Click to shrink...

"ran down" as in bad-mouthed.

 

[Zackarix]

"Do you think Tammi was treating Brian like someone who'd stopped someone else from snatching her bag?"

Greg paused, and thought back. The more he mulled over the concept, the more he frowned. "No," he admitted. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he kicked her puppy in a previous life."

"She definitely didn't like him," Taylor agreed. "Not one little bit. Which is odd as fuck for a way to treat someone who saved your stuff like that."

Click to shrink...

This Tammi doesn't seem like a very nice girl

 

[Crazael]

It looks like Edward Ferguson's dead and he doesn't know it yet.

Click to shrink...

I mean, he could just tell Taylor the (partial) truth. That Edward Ferguson is his brother-in-law and when he heard about what happened to her and Greg, he called him over to tell him that if anything happened to the two best interns Medhall has ever had, he would bd rather angry.

 

[Dennis Simon Kenny]

Minor typo.

Click to shrink...

"ran down" as in bad-mouthed.

Click to shrink...

Whoops, why did I type "typo"? I mean "transposition", since Jenna ran down Hebert and Peter ran down Veder. *facepalms*

 

[Ack]

Whoops, why did I type "typo"? I mean "transposition", since Jenna ran down Hebert and Peter ran down Veder. *facepalms*

Click to shrink...

No, Jenna bad-mouthed Greg to Taylor, and Peter bad-mouthed Taylor to Greg.

 

[Dennis Simon Kenny]

No, Jenna bad-mouthed Greg to Taylor, and Peter bad-mouthed Taylor to Greg.

Click to shrink...

Oh! My brain managed to trip over "ran down" both in the chapter and in your first explanation. *facepalms*

In the part of the West Coast where I live, it would be unusual for a teenager to use "ran down" in that way, but I don't know enough about East Coast dialects to say whether it would be an odd usage in Brockton Bay or not.

Anyway, I'm enjoying the story and I'm looking forward to the next chapters.

 

[Crazael]

I've never heard of "run down" used that way. In my experience, when it's used as a verb, it means to chase or follow someone.

 

[Ack]

I've never heard of "run down" used that way. In my experience, when it's used as a verb, it means to chase or follow someone.

Click to shrink...

Apparently it's a British thing. Changing.

 

[Ack]

Taylor Hebert, Medhall Intern

Part Seventeen: Curiosity, Meet Cat

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]



Sunday Morning, October 3, 2010

Taylor

Lying on the sofa with a book in my hand, I shifted position so as to take pressure off one of the bruises on my butt. This only served to locate another one. "Ow."

Dad, sitting in the armchair with a large notepad and a pen, glanced over with an amused look on his face. "How are we going there?"

"I'm okay," I grumped. "But Greg was right on the money about getting our homework done early. There's no way I could concentrate on algebraic expressions if I'm having to find a feather cushion three feet thick just to sit down at the table."

"Ahh, but was it worth it?" He raised his eyebrows. "I seem to remember you waxing lyrical about the training when you got home yesterday."

I nodded without hesitating. "Oh, totally. I'll probably never need it, but it's nice to know I can be not entirely useless in a fight if it comes to that."

"Good. I'm glad." He smiled. "I have to say, your time at Medhall has definitely improved your self-confidence, and that's not even touching on how they've helped you personally." The phone rang, and he raised his head. "Damn it, just when I was comfortable, too."

Climbing to his feet, he went to where the phone hung on the wall and took up the receiver. "Hebert household, Danny speaking."

I waited to see if it was Greg calling, but he didn't immediately say so. Deciding that it was probably one of his friends or associates from the Dockworkers, I went back to my book. Part of my Maggie Holt collection, it was one I'd read before, but I still enjoyed it.

"Taylor?"

I looked up at Dad; he was off the phone now, with a grin on his face a mile wide. "Yeah, Dad?"

"That was the school. They've okayed your transfer to Arcadia, effective Wednesday afternoon."

"Oh. Wow." It occurred to me that Winslow must really have wanted me out of their hair if they were still working at this on a Sunday. That was fine; I didn't want any part of them, either. "So … I head off to work on Wednesday after school, and show up to Arcadia Thursday morning?"

"That's what I was given to understand, yes." He held out his fist and I bumped it. "Congratulations. You beat the bastards."

I snorted in self-deprecation. "Not really. They supplied all the ammunition. It was Mr Grayson who really set things in motion. Him and Bradley." I could still recall with gratifying clarity the way Bradley had smacked Sophia in the mouth and sat her down on her ass. It would be one of my most treasured memories for some time to come.

The fact that Sophia had turned out to be a cape and a Ward of all things had gone a long way toward explaining how and why the school administration had bent over backward for her so hard they would've had permanent kinks in their spines. Still, it wasn't a reason, just an excuse. Also, I would never forgive her for murdering Justin like she had. Even though Tracey was back at work now, she was still mourning him, and I didn't blame her. Incorrigible coffee thief he may have been, but he was still a good guy. There were far too few people like that in the world.

Rolling off the sofa on to my feet, I stretched. "But you're right. This calls for a celebration. I'm gonna see if Greg wants to come down to the Boardwalk so we can have soda and snacks, and maybe catch a movie."

Dad nodded. "That's fine. Say hi to him for me, and enjoy yourself. Try to be home before dark."

I gave him a smile on the way past. "Thanks. I will."

<><>​

The Boardwalk, Later

Greg

"So, you're finally getting into Arcadia." Greg squeezed Taylor's hand supportively. "Good. I'm glad. At least one of us is getting out of that pit of despair."

"I still feel bad about leaving you behind." She leaned on the rail, her expression pensive. "Peter Ferguson and his asshole friends might decide to keep screwing with you, when I'm not there to watch your back."

"With the lawsuit pending, Blackwell's going to be doing her best to make it look like she actually cares about doing her damn job, so I think I'll be safe at least for a while." He tried to sound more confident than he felt, so as to make Taylor worry less. "And I'm thinking Mr Anders will be leaning on Mr Ferguson and telling him loud and clear to keep that Empire shit well away from Medhall, which means well away from us."

Taylor stood up straight and snapped her fingers. "I bet that's what was going on, yesterday. Mr Anders made Mr Ferguson come into his office and ordered him to tell the Empire to back the fuck off, and Mr Ferguson got all pissy because he had to do it. I mean, when was the last time the Empire hit Medhall or one of its subsidiaries?"

"I've never heard of it happening," Greg allowed. "But this is the Empire Eighty-Eight we're talking about. They're pretty damn hot shit, just saying."

"No, they like making it look like they're hot shit." Taylor shook her head. "They hate Asians. Lung's tough but he's not totally unbeatable. Have they beaten him, like, ever? No. They haven't. Do you honestly think Hookwolf would leave him alive if they got him down? And remember when we went to Bradley about Peter? Did he look scared of the Empire Eighty-Eight, the whole time we were talking to him?"

Greg had to shake his head. "He just looked like he wanted to kick someone's head in. Peter's, for preference. And if anyone knows who to steer clear of and who to not worry about, it would be Bradley."

"Exactly." Taylor grinned. "So I think you'll be fine."

"Yeah." Greg felt a little bit of tension leave his body. "Yeah, that's true. Though I'll tell you what; from how pissed off Mr Ferguson was when you saw him, I'm kinda surprised Mr Anders didn't have Bradley or one of the other security guys escorting him out of the building."

"Hmm." Taylor looked thoughtful. "Maybe Mr Anders expected him to be all adult and reasonable about it. You don't expect grown adults to do something stupid, especially when it's in their best interests not to."

"Until they do." Greg didn't have any personal experiences like that, but his mom had told him a couple of stories about her great-uncle Zeke. "But I'd've thought someone as smart as Mr Anders would be on top of something like that."

Taylor shook her head. "Everyone has their blind spots. I'm thinking Mr Anders knows Mr Ferguson from way back, and still sees him as the person he used to be. But Mr Ferguson already did something stupid—I mean, he joined the Empire, right? What's to say he's not about to do something else even more stupid? I mean, when I saw him, he was mad. Maybe mad enough not to care."

Greg knew that tone of voice. Taylor had ideas. "What are you going to do?"

"Well, I originally thought he might be a mole, but then I thought there was no way Mr Anders would have him in any positions of responsibility. Now, I'm not so sure, so I'm going to sniff around a little. See what pops up. If Mr Ferguson doesn't have any connections inside Medhall, we should be in the clear. But if he does …"

"Take it to Mr Anders?"

Taylor nodded. "Take it to Mr Anders."

"Oh, good." Greg heaved a mock sigh of relief. "I am so glad we're not going to try pulling off the plot of a Maggie Holt novel." He didn't subscribe to the idea that a bunch of plucky teens could do better than responsible adults in a situation like this, the entire young-adult novel genre to the contrary.

"Hey!" Taylor's grin showed that she was only kidding as she jabbed him with her elbow. "I happen to like those books, buster!"

"I like 'em too," Greg said defensively. He knew it wasn't as much as she did, but that didn't matter. "Well, now we've established that nobody's going to be doing anything silly, what do you think we should do? Hit the Market, or catch a movie?"

"Market." Taylor let Greg's hand go, but only so she could link her arm through his. "I want to see if the second-hand bookshops have anything new in."

"I'm down with that." Arm in arm, they headed off toward the bus stop.

<><>​

Anders Family Home

Kaiser

Max Anders leaned back in his ergonomic chair and gazed out his study window. The view wasn't as impressive as that from his office window in the Medhall building, but he had to share it with far fewer people. And to be honest, he preferred this one; it made him feel closer to his roots.

The week had been an interesting one, not to mention somewhat satisfying. Young Hebert had not disappointed him in the ad hoc training session he'd arranged with Bradley and Melody, and the new hire had assisted them competently. Bradley had reported that Taylor was coming along well; she'd apparently cleaned Tammi's clock, despite the teenage villain egregiously cheating during the training bout.

(Max would never admit out loud that he was highly amused by this outcome, but that was what being able to shut his office door was for.)

Veder had also shown up well. He'd thoroughly dominated Theo in their bout, but Max was of the opinion that a moderately determined housecat could probably achieve the same end. More tellingly, he'd approached the training with the same interest and focus that Max had come to expect from Taylor. She'd also taken him down when they were matched against each other (despite Veder having a few more training hours under his belt) but that match had reportedly been a lot closer.

All in all, Max was finding himself far more invested in the internship program than he'd ever thought he would be, when the accounting department had suggested it as a way to garner some tax breaks. Interns, in his experience, were gawky teens who had to be shown everything three times and watched like a hawk to ensure they didn't irretrievably jam the copy machine. (To be fair, that had essentially been Veder until he'd undergone a competence upgrade with Hebert's coaching.)

Now, Max found himself rather more in favour of it. Young Hebert had, in her time with Medhall, saved the company from potential losses of millions of dollars, not to mention averting the huge security risk of having Coil's moles on staff. She was smart, focused and impressively tenacious when it came to tracking down problems. Not for the first time, he wondered if there was any chance of diverting her interest toward Theo; with her at his son's side, Medhall would be unbeatable when Theo (eventually) inherited the company.

But no. Theo knew far too much about the Empire Eighty-Eight and its links with Medhall, and Taylor had too low an opinion of the Empire to be comfortable with knowing about that. If they ever ended up in a relationship, she would inevitably learn what Theo knew; Max had little faith in Theo's ability to keep a secret about something like that.

Better to maintain her in her current position: a rising star within the ranks of Medhall. And of course, to make use of her talents by ensuring no other moles crept into the ranks of the company. From everything he could see, her loyalty to the company had to be ironclad by now. As such, he had no qualms in issuing her the clearances she was going to need for the task ahead of her.

At the same time, he would insert a subtle test into the initial group of people she was to examine. Among the employee files he would have her audit would be one whose ties to the Empire could be located if one dug deeply enough. If she found it and reported it, that would tell him one thing; if she didn't report it, that would mean she'd failed to find it or didn't consider it worth reporting, either of which would tell him something else altogether.

Current indications were that if anyone could ensure that Medhall as a whole was working for Max Anders and only Max Anders, it was Taylor Hebert. But he still wanted to make sure for himself.

<><>​

Medhall Building, Monday Afternoon

Taylor

"Hi, Tracey." I put her coffee on her desk, then carried on to mine. "How's the arm?"

"Slowly mending." She took up the cup and sipped at it appreciatively. "I can't wait to get the cast off. It sucks, having to take the bus every day. I just don't feel confident enough to drive with it on."

"It'll happen soon enough." Pulling out my chair, I sat down then sipped at my own coffee. "So, what's happening today?"

"Today is something different." She tapped a thick Manila folder that was lying on her desk, which had a flash drive on top of it. "Mr Anders has apparently decided that it's time for you to actually earn your salary, instead of sitting around drinking coffee with me all day." The grin lurking on her lips would've told me that she was joking, even if the tone of her voice hadn't tipped me off.

"Okay, I'm listening." I got up from my desk and strolled over to examine the folder and the drive without touching them yet. "What is all this, and what do I need to do with it?"

"Employee files." Her tone had swung all the way over to 'serious' now. "It's a selection of people who are employed by Medhall. This is all the information we're legally allowed to hold on them. Mr Anders wants you to go through them with a fine-tooth comb and see if you can shake loose any improprieties at all."

I blinked, taken somewhat aback at the implications of what she'd just told me. "Wait … why me? And why am I looking at these people in particular? And am I even allowed to look at these files?"

Tracey sat forward in her chair. "Good questions. I asked much the same ones. You've been chosen for this because you've shown a superior talent for data analysis and pattern recognition. These people are in departments which have shown irregularities, and we want to find out if they're personally behind those irregularities. And the first page in the stack will be a document explaining all this which you need to sign, to verify that you're aware of the limits of your new clearances, before you can look at the actual files."

"Oh." I moved the drive aside and opened the folder, to reveal the document she'd mentioned. Reading it through went into a little more detail, but didn't reveal anything new, like what the people were suspected of doing. I supposed it wasn't part of my job to know that bit, just to find out what their electronic footprints revealed.

However, when I looked over the terms of my clearance for examining the activities of the employees, I found something interesting: I wasn't limited to looking at just the people in the folder. This, I suspected, was intended to allow me to follow up on potential conspiracies within Medhall, or maybe they were going to get me to audit more groups, and they didn't want to have to keep re-issuing specific clearances.

Either way, this opened a loophole for me and made my self-appointed task—checking on Ed Ferguson—much, much easier than I'd dared hope it would be. Of course, I still had all the other checks to make so I couldn't dive straight into that. I'd get to him when I could, though. Patience was a virtue and all that.

Trying not to let any of this show on my face, I nodded. "Okay, it all seems pretty straightforward."

"Excellent." Tracey smiled and offered me her pen. "Just sign on the dotted, and I'll witness it. Then you can make a start at untangling whatever these guys have done to cover their tracks. Have fun."

"Gee, thanks." I mock-rolled my eyes as I pretended to grumble. Inwardly, I was elated that Medhall—which meant Mr Anders—was showing me so much trust. I fully intended to prove that it was all warranted, by unearthing any problems Mr Ferguson was causing within the company and exposing them to the light of day.

Scribbling my signature, I handed the pen and document over to Tracey so she could do the same. Then I took up the folder and the drive, and headed back to my desk.

It was time to justify Medhall's faith in me.

<><>​

Tracey

It was lucky, Tracey reflected (not for the first time) that she'd broken her left arm and not her right. Re-learning how to use a mouse would've been time-consuming and irritating; it was bad enough having to type one-handed. Fortunately, Taylor had taken up the heavy lifting until Tracey was able to get her fingers freed from the cast and could type again. Not with as much grace and speed, and with a few more typos than before, but still a vast improvement over having just one hand to do it with.

The thought of her arm naturally led on to how she'd broken it, and tears filled her eyes as she remembered the last moments with Justin; his easy grin as he took the car up the road to the Captain's Hill lookout, and the warm feeling in her chest every time she looked at him. She'd gone from being on top of the world to hanging upside-down in terror and pain in what seemed to be a heartbeat. For more than twelve hours she'd been trapped, occasionally passing out from the pain and the awkward position, calling for help until her throat was raw and she couldn't do anything but cry.

Toward the end, she'd been ready to give up. All she had to do was reach her seat-belt clip and let gravity do its worst. But even in this she was foiled; her left arm was broken, and she couldn't reach the clip with her right hand. That had been when she saw the lights and heard the voices calling out, and known help was on the way. But only once Taylor had slithered into the confined space with her did she actually think she had a chance of survival.

They'd both lived through that ordeal by the skin of their collective teeth, but now she had to keep on living while Justin was gone.

Taking a tissue from her desk drawer, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose, then tried to focus on her work again. Ms Harcourt was probably making allowances for her trauma and current disability, but that wouldn't last forever. She had to get back on track and prove that she was still strong enough to make a difference in her position at Medhall.

"Okay, wow. Holy shit." Taylor's quiet exclamation drew her attention, and not just because of the swearing (though that had something to do with it). "Tracey, could you look at this, please? Tell me I'm not just seeing something that's not there?"

It was thoroughly unlike Taylor to ask for help needlessly, or to sound so uncertain. Grateful for the distraction, Tracey pushed her chair back and stood up. She was halfway over to Taylor's desk before she began to wonder if she was cleared to see what Taylor was talking about, but she dismissed that idea. She was Taylor's supervisor; it was literally her job to check on what Taylor was doing.

"Have you found something?" Rounding Taylor's desk, she leaned down to see what was on the screen.

"Yeah." Taylor sounded a little breathless, as though she'd been taken aback. "Most of the guys on the list came up clean on the first sweep, but I was going to go back over them in more detail. Then I hit this one, Kenny diAngelo. He's been arrested a few times for hate crimes … and his son's definitely a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight."

"His son?" Tracey's eyebrows rose. "It doesn't say anything about that there, just gives a name: Bronson."

Taylor turned to look at her, a serious expression on her face. "Yeah, but I go to school with Bronson diAngelo. He runs with Peter Ferguson, who literally tried to recruit me and Greg. Straight-up said that the Empire needs people like us, after Greg took down Shadow Stalker."

"Oh." She couldn't fault that logic. "Is that all you've found out?"

"Nope." Taylor clicked to another tab. "I used the connection to Peter Ferguson to open a query on his father Ed. Did you know Ed Ferguson is Mr Anders' brother-in-law? And that he works for another company which is still doing business with Medhall, even after I told Bradley about Peter being in the Empire?" She paused, looking like she wanted to eat her own words. "Uh … maybe I should ask you to forget that bit? Bradley told me and Greg that if the Empire found out people were talking about who was in the gang, it could get dangerous."

"No, no, it's good," Tracey hastened to assure her. "I'm not about to go running around telling everybody. So, what else have you found?" Inwardly, she was more than a little shocked at the revelations Taylor was piling on her plate, but for the most part she was proud that her protégé was doing so well. This was exactly what Mr Anders had needed her to do.

"Well, I decided to dig more into Mr Ferguson." Taylor's expression wasn't quite shifty, but Tracey got the impression that she'd made the decision before she found out about dAngelo, and this was just a useful excuse. "Mainly because I saw him in the Medhall building on Saturday, throwing an absolute tantrum in the men's room, and I couldn't figure out why."

"Why he was there, or why he was throwing a tantrum?" Tracey was learning new things all the time.

"Both, really." Taylor took a deep breath. "I mean, zero disrespect to Mr Anders, he's a fantastic businessman and an amazing boss, but he has trouble making judgements when it comes to his family, you know? Like, he has trouble understanding that Theo doesn't want any part of Medhall. That's not even a bad thing, really. It just means he's human like the rest of us, not Jesus in a three-piece suit. But what if Mr Ferguson has him convinced that this Empire thing is just Peter and not him, and he's got his hooks into Medhall, and he's trying to plant Empire people inside it? Kenny diAngelo's just the first one I found, and I haven't really gone in-depth with the others yet."

By now, Tracey's head was spinning. Taylor's analysis of Mr Anders' lack of judgement regarding family had come out of left field, but it all fitted together. Especially since his wife had left him not so long ago. "And what did you find out about Mr Ferguson?"

Taylor's expression was troubled. "I've found where chunks of money have been going missing, funnelled between Medhall and its subsidiaries. Starting with the company Mr Ferguson works for, I tried to follow them around, but I can't quite track where they've gotten to." She pointed to a spreadsheet on the screen. The figure her fingernail tapped on was substantial, enough to pay Tracey's salary for several years. "What if some or all of these subsidiaries have been taken over by the Empire, and they're using their contacts inside Medhall to launder money for them?"

"That's … um, that's kind of scary." Tracey felt the hairs on the back of her neck begin to stand up as she considered the enormity of what Taylor was suggesting. "I really think at this point you should step back and hand it over to people who can do something about it."

"But I can keep digging. There's more to be found, I'm sure—"

"No." More sure of herself now, Tracey shook her head. "It's almost three, anyway. Time for you to pack up and head home. I'll keep looking at what you've got here, and see if you've got enough data to bother the higher-ups with."

"Oh." Taylor hesitated before getting up. "I mean, I don't mind staying another few minutes—"

Once more, Tracey cut her off. "No. Volunteering for unpaid overtime sets a bad precedent. Shoo, shoo. I'll let you know how it all comes out on Wednesday."

"Okay." Taylor stood up and stretched; Tracey heard her vertebrae popping back into place. "Have a good afternoon. See you then."

"See you then." Sliding into Taylor's now-empty chair, she waved as the teen scooped up the backpack and headed out into the corridor. "Now, let's see what we've got here …"

Within moments, she was deep in the rabbit-hole, following the tracks Taylor had already laid down.

<><>​

Winslow, Tuesday Morning

Taylor

The moment I got off the bus, I saw Greg. He was leaning against the side of the steps, arms folded, with a too-cool-for-school attitude that he could never have pulled off just a few months ago. The funny thing was, I didn't even think he was going for that look. It was just the impression he gave off. I figured that between dating me and getting those self-defence lessons, he'd gotten a huge confidence boost, and it showed.

He saw me and straightened up as I came over to him. "Hey, Taylor."

"Hey yourself, Greg." I kissed him on the cheek and took his hand. "What's new with you?"

"Nothing much, except that I got a weird text message from a strange number sometime last night, and I only found it this morning." He pulled his phone out and woke it up. I had just enough time to notice that the home screen was now a photo of me instead of Alexandria in a bikini before he brought up the message.

I leaned in close to read the single word: Mice.

"Okay, yeah, that's weird," I agreed. "Did you reply?"

He shook his head. "Nope. I've heard all sorts of crap about people spamming random cell-phone numbers and if you reply they start bombarding you with Nigerian prince emails and Viagra ads."

I took a second look at the text message; or rather, the number. It looked familiar. Very familiar, in fact. "Wait, that's Tracey's phone number. She made me memorise it after Emma pretended she was me that one time."

"And how did she get my number?" Greg raised his eyebrows. "This is gonna be a good one, I can tell."

"I don't own a phone, you know that." I turned my hands palm-upward. "I gave her your number for if she needs to contact me during school hours."

He nodded judiciously. "Okay, that's fair. Once you're at Arcadia, that's gonna have to change, of course."

"Thanks for the reminder." We started up the stairs. "But that still doesn't explain why she sent that to you. I mean, even if it's meant for me, I don't know what it means."

"So, it's not some little in-joke between you? You know, cats, mice, dogs, whatever?"

"No." I rubbed my chin, thinking hard. "Unless …"

"Unless …?" he prompted, clearly interested.

"That thing I told you about on the bus, and said not to talk to anyone else about, at all, ever? Remember that?" With pre-Medhall Greg, I would never have even considered sharing a confidence like that. The interval between promising to tell nobody and then blabbing it out as stream of consciousness would've been less than five minutes. But with post-clue-Greg, that just wouldn't happen.

He nodded once, briefly. "That thing, yes. I remember. What about it?"

I didn't like where my imagination was taking me. "You know what mice do? They tunnel. They undermine. They weaken. They infest."

From the way his eyes widened, he got the message loud and clear. "So, you think she's saying Mr … uh, the talking horse, has a lot of influence that he shouldn't have with his, uh, echoey friends, in the place we work?"

Greg and I were very much on the same wavelength these days, so it wasn't hard to decipher what he was saying. Ed Ferguson and the Empire Eighty-Eight have infiltrated Medhall more deeply than I thought. "Yeah, that's what I'm thinking."

He glanced down at his phone, which was still in his hand. "Should … should we do something? Tell someone? Or reply?"

I'd been thinking about that myself, and I shook my head. "No. Yesterday afternoon, she told me she was going to send it up the line once she'd figured out how deep the rot went. I figure this is her way of letting me know I was right, and that she's doing something about it. No doubt I'll get the full story on Wednesday about how they cleaned it out."

Greg grinned. "And then Mr Anders will steal your coffee again."

I wrinkled my nose at him. "Not funny." Though to be honest, it actually kind of was.

"Great." He heaved a sigh. "So now I'm going to have to pretend to be surprised when they make a fuss over you on Wednesday. You movie star, you."

I elbowed him, but gently. "I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Suuure you didn't."

"I didn't!"

"Uh huh."

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?"

"Mayyybe."

<><>​

Cafeteria, Midday

Greg

They'd gotten lunchtime down to a fine art. Each day they took turns getting in line and acquiring lunch for both, while the other person snagged a table and waited. Today was Greg's turn to meander his way through the line, and he made sure to grab things he knew Taylor liked.

"Hey," she greeted him when he got back to the table. "Ooh, thanks. Just what I wanted."

"You're welcome." He sat down next to her and nudged the tray in her direction. "So, is it just me or is World Affairs actually becoming more tolerable?"

Taylor peeled her banana while she thought about that. "Well, it's less of a popularity contest than it used to be, with Madison and Julia keeping their heads down since Gladly laid down the law. And I haven't had anything nasty on my seat in forever."

"What I was thinking." Greg shook up his chocolate milk and popped a straw in through the side. "I still can't believe how much I tried to hang off those … those … argh." He shook his head, unable to think of a word for Madison and her friends that was bad enough but still wouldn't offend Taylor.

"Hey." She put her hand on his. "We all make mistakes. And talking about mistakes … have you seen Peter?" She hooked her head sideways.

"Uh, no?" Greg had been carefully not looking in the direction of the table where Peter and his hangers-on usually sat. "Is he back at school already? I thought he'd been given more suspension time or something when he didn't show up on Monday."

"Not suspended, no. Check it out."

Intrigued by Taylor's tone, Greg glanced in that direction as casually as he could manage. One glance was enough; not only was everyone at that table carefully not looking toward his and Taylor's table, but Peter … was a mess. His hair was neatly combed and his clothing as stylish as ever, but his face showed distinct signs of having been beaten to a pulp. Someone who knew what they were doing had worked him over like a piñata.

"Jeez," Greg murmured, turning his attention back to his meal. "I did not do that to him. Wish I had, though," he added on further reflection.

"Yeah, I know." Taylor took a bite of her banana. Once she'd swallowed it, she kept talking. "That happened after the meeting with Blackwell. Maybe he poked his nose where it didn't belong over the weekend, and some minority or other handed him his ass on a silver platter?"

That made sense. "Yeah, probably." Greg took a drink of his chocolate milk. "All I can say is, couldn't have happened to a nicer asshole." He kind of wished he'd been there, to award points for style, and maybe catch it on camera.

Taylor grinned at him as she picked up her pita wrap. "There's no way I'm going to argue with that."

<><>​

End of Math Class

Taylor

I left the classroom with my homework done, which was something I was finding easier and easier to achieve these days. Emma's absence was a major factor in this; since Mr Barnes had pulled her from the school, she couldn't get in my ear and distract me. And without her or Sophia around, and Madison and Julia profoundly unwilling to stir the pot, nobody else cared enough to bother me.

Greg was coming from Computer Studies, so we met outside the library as usual. The plan was to wander out of the school and talk for a while before we took our different buses home. No big hurry.

As soon as I saw him, I knew something was wrong. He looked about two shades paler, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "Greg," I said, going over and grabbing his hand. "What's up? Has something happened?"

"Yeah." He squeezed my hand like he never wanted to let go. "Come on, there's something I've got to tell you, and we need to be in private."

"What? Why?" A nameless dread began to creep over me. "Greg, tell me what's going on."

He stopped to look me full in the eye, and what I saw in his expression stilled my questions. "I'll tell you once we're away from everyone. Come on."

Wordlessly, I followed him away from the general crowd, around the corner of the school to a quiet spot. The last time I'd seen him look so grim and purposeful had been … when he was fighting Peter's friends. This did not bode well for whatever he wanted to tell me.

"Okay," I said once we stopped. "We're away from everyone. Now spill."

He took a deep breath. "I saw it on the news just as I was coming out of class." Tapping his phone to wake up the screen, he handed it over to me.

Numbly, I took it. It showed a news article about a single-car accident the previous evening, where the car had crashed and burned. The lone occupant had died at the site, in the fire. She had been identified as one Tracey Grimshaw, employed by the Medhall corporation.

Tracey …

I swayed on my feet as my head went light. My feet felt a thousand miles away, disconnected from me. Greg caught me before I fell, and steadied me. "No," I whispered, or maybe screamed. I couldn't tell. "No. It's not true. It can't be."

Tracey …

Tracey had taken me under her wing from my first day at Medhall. She'd been the first to see me as more than just another cog in the machine, and she'd listened to my problems without judgement. When Emma and her friends did their level best to sabotage my job prospects, she'd had enough faith to listen to my side of things, and she'd even taken my case to Ms Harcourt and gotten the clothing replaced.

Tracey …

Tracey had been a good person. She hadn't deserved to die like that. She hadn't deserved to die at all. Working at Medhall had been interesting, but she'd made it fun.

Why the hell does shit like this have to keep happening to me?

I gradually became aware that I was sitting down on the patchy grass with Greg kneeling awkwardly beside me. While I wasn't bawling my eyes out, I was sobbing quietly, with tears streaming down my face. He offered me a handkerchief and I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, but the tears just kept coming. Taking me into his arms, he held me close while I cried on his shoulder.

Life just wasn't fair. Between my job and my boyfriend, I'd forgotten that for a while, but if there was one thing I could count on the universe for, it was to remind me where I stood in relation to karma.

<><>​

The Office of Max Anders

Medhall Building

"And you're sure the Hebert girl doesn't know anything about this?" Max leaned forward in his chair. He wanted a positive response, Victor knew he wanted a positive response, but his subordinate also knew he wanted honesty above all else.

"Totally." Even wheelchair-bound, Victor emanated an air of confidence. "I've watched the security footage of her leaving. Taylor's the sort of girl who wears her heart on her sleeve, especially since she started dating the Veder kid. If she'd had the slightest idea who we really were, there's no way she would've danced out of here like that. Every single one of her tells says she had not a care in the world."

"Good." Max relaxed into the chair again. "So Grimshaw was telling the truth about that, at least. What else did you get out of her?"

"That she was following up on the investigation Taylor started. Taylor went from Kenny diAngelo to his son Bronson to Peter Ferguson to Ed Ferguson, picked out that you're his brother-in-law, then noted that Ferguson's firm still does business with us. That's as far as she got before she went home." Victor raised his eyebrows, communicating quite effectively that Max's ploy of inserting an obvious member of the Empire Eighty-Eight into the audit folder had been what had almost screwed the pooch for them this time. "While she did find the under-the-table cash flow, she thought it was totally Ferguson's doing, infiltrating the subsidiaries and using Medhall to launder Empire cash."

"Well, she's a damn bright kid, you have to admit that." Max raised his glass in a mock toast. "All she was missing was that one last bit of information." The information that Tracey Grimshaw had found and taken to Ms Harcourt. "Fortunately, we've managed to instil enough loyalty in her that she didn't even consider the other explanation." Max felt quite proud of himself for that. Who would've thought that helping out a teenage intern—even one who'd managed to impress Ms Harcourt—would have such far-reaching implications? Damn, I'm good.

Victor nodded to concede the point. "Talking about loyalty, were you even aware Harcourt was one of us?"

"Well, she isn't, as far as I can tell." Max took a sip from his glass. "She's just … dedicated to Medhall. The impression I got was that she's known who we really are for years but she doesn't care." It had come as a shock to him, too. "Her loyalty is to the company, and if we go down, it does too."

"I can see that, I suppose. Lucky break twice over, then." Victor essayed a grin. "We live a charmed life, it seems. Two bullets dodged in the same day. Of course, you do know whose fault it is that we were even in this situation, don't you?"

Max frowned. "Don't even start. What's the point in having a resource like her mind on staff without using it to its full potential?"

"Oh, no. Not you." Victor waved his hand in denial. "Young Ferguson. If he hadn't harassed Hebert and Veder, she wouldn't have followed the lead through to his father. And we wouldn't have had to disappear Grimshaw."

"That all worked out okay, at least?" Max was reasonably sure of this, but he wanted to make certain.

"Like clockwork." Victor nodded to emphasise his point. "The boys grabbed a streetwalker of around the right age and body type and brought her into the clinic. Diane did a couple of quick X-rays for dental records and swapped them out for Grimshaw's, then they snapped her arm, put her in Grimshaw's car and lit her up. With the bits of Grimshaw's cast in the car as well, the autopsy will just be a matter of ticking the boxes, especially if the coroner gets a little financial incentive to ignore anything out of the ordinary."

"Good, good." Max drew a deep breath; it was time to confront the elephant in the room. "And you don't know who she contacted before Harcourt got the phone away from her?" It was the only reason Tracey Grimshaw wasn't dead for real.

"No." Victor's jaw muscles bunched as he grimaced. "Harcourt says Grimshaw only got off a word or two before she noticed, and then they were struggling for the phone. Grimshaw managed to push her away just long enough to brick it, and I still haven't been able to recover the body of the text or who it was for."

"Well, we know it wasn't to Taylor, which is one good thing." Max was fully aware that the girl didn't own a cell-phone, which was an odd quirk for a teenager, but entirely welcome in this situation. "If nobody comes sniffing around asking odd questions in the next week or so, make Grimshaw vanish altogether."

"Copy that." Victor turned the chair and started for the door. "Well, you still have your girl wonder on staff, and that's what really matters."

"Very true." Max finished the bourbon as the door closed behind Victor. The Tracey Grimshaw hiccup aside, things were looking up for Medhall.

<><>​

On the Bus

Taylor

"No." I shook my head again. "I refuse to believe it. It can't be true." My eyes were still swollen, but I'd stopped crying and my head was clear again.

Greg shrugged helplessly. It wasn't his normal bus home, but he'd said he would see me to my door, and there wasn't much I could do to stop him. Not that I really wanted to. "Taylor, they said they identified her. It was her car. She was driving. It wasn't reported as stolen. That's as open-and-shut as things get. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, that's the trouble." I jabbed at his phone screen where it mentioned her car. "Tracey said just yesterday that she was taking the bus until her arm healed, because she didn't feel confident about driving with her cast. Do you honestly think she would've gotten in her car on the same day she said that to me?"

He blinked. "… oh."

"Yeah, oh." I drew a deep breath. "That wasn't an accident. Tracey was murdered. And I think I know who did it."

"Who?" Greg was staring at me like he'd never seen me before.

It was plainly obvious to me. "Ed fucking Ferguson. He found out we were looking into him, and somehow got to her." I clenched my fists. "Well, he might think he's some big shot in the Empire and that he's untouchable as Mr Anders' brother-in-law, but he's not getting away with it. Not this time."

Greg blinked. "So … what are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet. But I'll think of something."



End of Part Seventeen

 

[Humorous Tart]

OMG! This is really heating up!

 

[Sto Odin]

Surprised and disappointed about Ms. Harcourt.

Surprised and pleased that Tracey isn't actually dead ... although that clock is definitely ticking.

Very nice chapter, and now it's going to be rough waiting for the next one.

 

[Crazael]

Okay, so... Why is Tracey still alive? Like, why would the Empire go through the effort to fake her death like that if they're just gonna kill her later.