The Slippery Slope [Worm AU]

[GiftofLove]

Might convince him to finally pack up and leave Brockton.

 

[edale]

I have come to a decision. At some point in this fic, I will find a place it's relevant enough to post a clip of "Springtime for Hitler" from The Producers. I WILL find a place to post it....lol.

 

[Siggimondo]

I just. Can't. Look. Away.

 

[GiftofLove]

I just. Can't. Look. Away.

Click to shrink...

Don't. You'll miss it if you do.

 

[edale]

Don't. You'll miss it if you do.

Click to shrink...

After all, it only happens once a millennium, and is a sight of unimaginable beauty. And it happens in exactly...*checks watch*... 5 seconds ago....Oops... I'm sorry, were you paying attention to me instead of it? We did tell you you'd miss it.

 

[GladiusLucix]

With the mention of Peter's grandfather, and his uncle "taking over the family business," my first thought was "Is he Iron Rain's son?" Whether she's alive or not, or if Peter's just being groomed as a better heir than Theo.

 

[MadGreenSon]

With the mention of Peter's grandfather, and his uncle "taking over the family business," my first thought was "Is he Iron Rain's son?" Whether she's alive or not, or if Peter's just being groomed as a better heir than Theo.

Click to shrink...

From the performance he's put on so far, given a few more years and a trigger event, he'll be a better heir than Kaiser.

 

[Slayer Anderson]

...Ack published a new fic and I didn't notice...again.

In retrospect, I had actually been wondering if he'd slowed his writing output or been sick or something.

Then I found Dicking Jane over on Archive of our Own and now this.

Just marathoned what you have out Ack and it's darkly fascinating. I look forward to more.

 

[Mazinkaiser14]

Emma watched the Principal dial the number for the police. This can't be happening. This doesn't happen to me.

"Okay, everyone, let's get back outside," Peter ordered, and they readily obeyed him. "Leave the Principal to do her job." He was moving slower than most, as Taylor was still leaning on his arm, but Emma was slower still, given that she was unwilling to go anywhere that the musclebound senior girl wanted to take her.

Sophia was hustled outside by the two Empire Eighty-Eight boys that Peter had detailed to hold her, and then Peter and Taylor left. Emma found herself in the office with the senior and Blackwell.

"Principal Blackwell!" Her voice was urgent. "Please, listen to me! My father -"

" - is not here," Blackwell told her coldly. "Get out of my office." She took her hand from the mouthpiece and spoke clearly. "Yes, this is Principal Blackwell at Winslow High. I'd like to report an assault on a student by two other students. The names of the perpetrators are Emma Barnes and Sophia Hess … "

Click to shrink...

Fucking finally!!!!!

For once, justice is served!

Never really liked Sophia anyway.

Way too bitchy.

 

[MadGreenSon]

Fucking finally!!!!!

For once, justice is served!

Never really liked Sophia anyway.

Way too bitchy.

Click to shrink...

I used to feel this way, but honestly Sophia is so one dimensional she's at least as much of a plot device in canon as Contessa, just not much useful beyond the early stages of the story.

Truthfully, at least her character is interesting enough to evoke an emotional response, unlike Grue.

 

[Ack]

The Slippery Slope

Part Four: Consolidation


As we walked back toward the Principal's office, Jenna handed my glasses to me. They'd been smeared with horrible substances during my sojourn in the locker, but now they were pristine and sparkling.

"Oh, thanks." As I fitted them into place, the world came back into focus. "You didn't have to do that for me."

She smiled. "Actually, I did. You're a member now, for all intents and purposes. You're one of us."

The warmth in her voice caught at me, and my eyes filled with tears. I stopped and hugged her; she returned the gesture, her arms warm and comforting around me.

"Thank you," I murmured. "Thank you … for everything." I remembered once more the scene at the girls' bathroom, when she had simply walked in, taking me with her. Clearing the path. Being there for me.

"Hey," she told me, patting me gently on the back. "We look out for each other, okay? Someday you'll be helping someone else out like this. Another sister or brother who needs your help."

Peter's phone rang, and he stepped to one side to answer it. I didn't mind; even though I had just decided that I wanted him to be my boyfriend, I knew that he had stuff to do, related to his position in the Empire.

Did I just really decide to join? I wasn't sure how I felt about that. On the one hand, it was a really, really huge step. On the other … it seemed almost inevitable. Peter and his friends were already helping me. Saving me from … from what Sophia had wanted to happen to me.

I had no doubt that if they hadn't intervened, I would have been stuck in that locker, until I died of the stench, or choked on my own vomit, or something equally gruesome. Sure as hell, they hadn't had any plans to let me out.

I felt once more a tide of hate, of loathing, against everything that Sophia was, everything that she represented, and I felt closer to Jenna. She understood. She knew how I felt right then.

But I had to know. I let Jenna go, and faced her. "Got a question."

She smiled warmly. "And I've got an answer."

I took a deep breath. "What if I decided not to join?"

She tilted her head slightly. "Are you deciding that?"

"I … I need to know."

A slight nod. "Well, if you don't want to join, you won't be forced to. We only take members who actually want to be members. You can walk away any time, right up till the day and hour of your final acceptance, and that's it. No repercussions. You don't want to be a member, you're not a member. You can stay a friend of the Empire; that's a whole different matter."

Peter put his phone away and rejoined us. Glancing from face to face, he raised an eyebrow. "Serious discussion going on?"

There was a lump in my throat, but I made my voice work anyway. "I was just asking Jenna what would happen if I decided I didn't want to be a member."

He nodded. "And she told you that there would be no problem with it?"

"Yeah." I looked at him. "Would you have a problem with it?"

Slowly, he shook his head. "You have to make your own choices, Taylor. I can't make them for you. But you know I'd be there for you, whether you chose to become a member or not. Because you know you're more important to me than that." He paused. "So are you actually choosing that, or were you just asking the question?"

I felt the warmth in my chest expanding, and I smiled at the both of them. "Just asking the question," I told him. "This is what I want. I know this now."

"Good to hear," he responded warmly. "Now, I just got told that your father's here. He's in the Principal's office, probably looking for you."

"Oh god," I muttered. "If he saw the locker, and heard what happened, he'll probably be worried sick."

As if cued by my comment, the asthmatic PA system crackled to life. "Taylor Hebert to report to the Principal's office … Taylor Hebert to report to the Principal's office … "

" … and that's me," I noted.

Peter nodded seriously. "Well we won't keep you then," he agreed. "Best go and put his mind at ease."

I latched on to his hand. "I want you to come along," I told him impulsively. "I want to tell him what you did. What you've been doing."

He frowned. "Not so sure about that," he demurred.

My grip on his hand tightened as he made to pull away. "No," I insisted. "I want him to meet you. To know what you're like." A smile flashed across my face. "After all, you are my boyfriend now."

"Uh, maybe I really shouldn't." He made another half-hearted attempt to pull free, but I wasn't letting go.

"No, Peter," I told him. "Seriously. You don't get out of this. You saved me today. You're meeting my Dad, whether you like it or not."

Behind his back, I met Jenna's eyes; her expression seemed to be somewhere between consternation and amusement; in any case, she wasn't interfering.

"I'll just be getting back to class then," she told me.

I smiled at her. "Okay, Jenna. I'll see you later. And thanks again."

"No problem, Taylor." A flashing smile, a wave, and she was gone.

Peter made a feeble attempt to follow her, but I was having nothing of it.

"I should be getting back to class too … " he hinted.

I shook my head as I towed him along the corridor. "Nope."

"Blackwell didn't call for me."

"Don't care."

"Taylor, no father ever wants to find out that his daughter's got a boyfriend."

"Tough. I'm done hiding things from him. That never solved any problems for me."

"Uh … are you going to tell him everything about us? About me?"

I stopped, and looked at him. "You mean, am I going to tell him that you're Empire Eighty-Eight, and that I've agreed to join?"

Emma's words came back to me. You know your dad'll have a heart attack as soon as he finds out.

He nodded. "Yeah. That could kind of make him not so grateful."

I grinned. "Don't worry. I've got a plan."

An apprehensive look came over his face. "Am I allowed to know it?"

My grin widened. "Now what would be the fun in that?"

His apprehensive look intensified, but he made no comment. I drew him onward.

To be honest, I wasn't too sure about my plan either, but I was done letting people walk over me. Peter and the others had shown me how to be strong. More to the point, they'd shown me that they'd back me up if and when I asserted myself. So here I was, asserting myself. And hoping like hell that it didn't all blow up in my face.

I was about to make a leap of faith. Now all I had to do was stick the landing.

<><>​

I tapped on the door of the Principal's office.

"Come in."

When I opened the door, Dad was already moving toward me; I let Peter's hand go as Dad's arms went around me. I hugged him back just as fiercely, feeling his arms tight about me.

"Oh god, Taylor, what have they been doing to you?" he asked urgently, not letting me go.

"I'm all right now, Dad," I assured him, holding on just as tightly. "I'm all right. It's all right now. I'm not hurt. Just a few bruises."

He let me go and I showed him the discoloured patches on the heels of my hands, where I'd slammed them against the unyielding metal of the interior of the locker. "Bruises, see?" I asked. "I'm fine. I was only in there for about a minute."

He shook his head. "Taylor, I saw that locker."

A nervous giggle arose from my chest. "Admittedly, it was about the longest minute I've ever lived through, but it was only really just a minute."

Slowly, he shook his head. "So what happened? Who let you out?"

I drew a deep breath. "You don't know? Nobody told you?"

"Nobody told me anything," he replied in frustration. "Just that you were shoved in a locker full of trash, and that the two girls who did it have been arrested and taken downtown. They wouldn't even tell me their names."

Principal Blackwell cleared her throat. "Actually, it was -"

I held up my hand to stop her; amazingly, she shut up. "Dad, I think that it's better I show you." Turning to Peter, I held out my hand. "Phone, please?"

He blinked, pulled his phone out, and fiddled with it. When he handed it to me – doing his best to ignore Dad's curious gaze – the video clip was cued up. I handed it to Dad, and he tapped the 'play' icon.

I didn't want to watch it – didn't want any reminder of what I'd been through – so I watched his face instead. His expression was curious to start with, then startlement arose as he recognised Emma. When he saw Emma shutting me in the locker, I saw pure rage on my father's face for the very first time ever. Had Emma been standing before him, her life would likely have been in danger.

His jaw set like stone, he watched the clip through, all the way till Peter coaxed the combination out of me and opened the door. When the clip finished, I caught a glimpse of it from the corner of my eye; the door open, me stumbling out, vomit down my front, covered in muck. And Peter's arm about me, supporting. My arms, clinging to him.

There was silence in the office as Dad tapped the 'replay' icon, and watched it all the way through a second time. As the clip ended again, and the incoherent crowd noise cut out, he raised his eyes to Peter. "You're the one who let her out."

Peter nodded. "Uh, yes, sir."

Dad handed the phone back to him, then held out his hand. "For that, you have my profound gratitude. Danny Hebert."

Peter took it, then shook his hand. "Peter Ferguson, sir. I'm very pleased to meet you."

Danny nodded. "Likewise. So, how do you know my daughter?"

I cleared my throat; they both glanced at me. "Uh, can we maybe discuss this somewhere else?" I asked.

Dad nodded, and bent an unfavourable eye upon Principal Blackwell. "We'll continue this discussion later. You've fallen down badly on your obligation toward my daughter. I suggest that you start thinking about compensation. Lots of it."

He didn't wait for an answer, as we went out the door, Peter leading. I took Peter's hand as we headed down the corridor; after a few paces, Dad noticed, and his eyebrows rose.

We stopped a little way away from Blackwell's office, and Dad turned to us. "Now suppose you tell me what's been going on. All of it."

Peter seemed disinclined to speak, so I took the plunge. "That was Emma on the clip."

Dad nodded. "I thought I recognised her. I'm going to be having words with Alan." There was a certain strain in his voice; I suspected that the words would be neither quiet nor polite.

"She turned against me because of Sophia Hess," I told him. "The black girl in the clip. They've been bullying me since I came to Winslow."

He frowned. "That long? I thought you were friends."

I shook my head. "Did you never wonder why we didn't do sleepovers after I started high school? Sophia and Emma and a friend of theirs called Madison have been doing shit to me all this time."

"Taylor." His voice was wondering. "Why didn't you tell me? I would have done something about it."

"Because they never did anything provable." My voice was bitter. "I tried complaining to the teachers. Nothing happened. They'd get called into the office, get a brief talking to, then let go and they'd start up again. I fought back, once, and I got disciplined, because Sophia and her friends said that I started it, and no-one but me said otherwise."

"But you could've spoken to me," he protested. "I would have believed you."

"And what could you have done?" I took a deep breath. "Come in here? Complained? Exactly the same thing would have happened. Without proof, exactly nothing. And they would've taken it out on me. Again. So I kept my head down, hoped they'd give up, get bored."

"But they didn't." He sounded sick.

"But they didn't," I agreed. "This year, in September, I started a kind of diary. Writing down everything they'd done to me, at the end of each day. Printing out and saving nasty emails."

"Well, at least you did that," he noted with approval. "That's something we can give to the police."

"I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to do with it, but that's not a bad idea," I agreed. "Around the same time, Peter was transferred in to Winslow, and he saw what was happening, and he tried to offer me his help."

Dad glanced at Peter. "So that's where you come into this." He looked back at me. "You said 'tried' to offer help."

I grimaced. "I was frightened. Other boys had helped bully me, so I thought that maybe he was going to pull some nasty prank on me when I let my guard down. So I pushed him away."

A slow nod. "I can see why you'd think that. Go on."

I took a deep breath. "They kept bullying me, and Peter was there. Offering encouragement. Friendship. He started helping me clean up after things happened to me. Told me that he and his friends could help me, if I wanted them to."

Dad's expression was not encouraging. "I've heard about this sort of thing before. I don't think I like where this is going."

Hastily, I shook my head. "No, it wasn't like that. He never tried anything with me, ever. He was just offering … help. So when he went to Blackwell on his own with information about what was happening to me, and I got blamed for it, and bullied all the more, I decided that I may as well accept. Because they weren't going to let up. So his friends started helping."

"Helping." Dad's voice was neutral.

I looked at Dad earnestly. "They did help, they really did. Every time Sophia or the others tried to do something to me, they got in the way. One boy got suspended because they complained about him so much."

Dad frowned. "Wait a minute. Who complained about who? Peter's friends complained about someone bullying you?"

"No." I shook my head. "His name's Kelly. He was helping me. Literally stepping in the way when Sophia tried to shove or kick me. Emma and Sophia complained about him bumping them in the halls, and he got suspended. For stopping them from bullying me."

Dad's jaw was set again. "I've a mind to go back and have another chat with your principal," he gritted.

"It's okay, Dad," I told him. "He's not suspended any more. In fact, he's the one who took that footage. But yeah, they just wouldn't stop. Remember when I got beaten up?"

He nodded. "I remember. Why didn't Peter's friends stop that?"

"Because Sophia hit me from behind," I told him. "I was walking away from her. Never saw it coming. But Bronson – that's another one of Peter's friends – stopped her after that first hit. Beat her up pretty good."

Dad frowned. "They said they never got a real suspect for that."

I shook my head. "Covering it up as hard as they could. I'm not sure why. Bronson had to run for it, because I'm pretty sure they would have arrested him."

"Even though he was just defending you?" Dad shook his head in turn. "This is ridiculous. Those girls have had far too much influence in this school. I mean, I know that Alan's a lawyer, but why does this Sophia girl get away with so much?"

"I really don't know," I confessed. "She's a track star, but I can't see that counting for all that much. She's actually a bit of a bitch, even when she's not doing something to me. But this time, they did something, got caught on camera, and the police know about it."

"Good," Dad agreed. "But do you have any idea why Emma even turned on you like that?"

I took another deep breath. "Peter says it's because Sophia wants to be her friend, and doesn't want anyone else in her way, so she's pushing Emma to reject me." I shrugged. "It kind of makes sense to me, in a twisted sort of way."

"I see." Dad turned his attention to Peter. "So, Peter. What's my daughter to you?"

Peter blinked, but rallied. "She's a strong individual," he stated. "Sophia and the others have done their best to push her down, but she's still hanging in there, still persevering. I admire that. And personally, I like her, and want to get to know her better."

Wow. I had kind of known that Peter thought that way about me, but to have him say it to my Dad gave me a warm feeling all over.

Dad shook his head. "There's more to it than that. Why are your friends so willing to expose themselves to punishment on her behalf?"

Peter opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Dad, they're just protecting me because Peter asked them to. He's my boyfriend, and … I think I might be pregnant."

Absolute, stunned silence. Dad's face turned slowly red. Peter, just as slowly, swivelled his head to stare at me, his eyes and mouth opening in a classic oh shit, did you just say what I think you just said expression.

"You … little … slimy … bastard." I always knew that Dad had a temper, but he'd managed to keep it reined in. Mostly. Now he was letting it out again. "I'm going to break your fucking neck."

He was advancing on Peter, who was backing up, hands up defensively. I jumped in between them. "Dad! Dad!"

"Out of the way, Taylor." Dad's face was set, his fists were clenched, and a muscle was jumping in the corner of his jaw.

"No, Dad, I was joking! I'm not pregnant! We've never done anything! We've never even made out! He's been my boyfriend for about fifteen minutes! I'm not pregnant, honest!"

Slowly, Dad registered my words. His fists unclenched. "Not pregnant?"

I shook my head emphatically. "No. Seriously, no. Not pregnant. But he is my boyfriend, and he's a member of the Empire Eighty-Eight."

Silence, as Dad absorbed my words. "He's in the Empire Eighty-Eight."

I nodded. "Yes."

"And he's your boyfriend."

Again I nodded. "Yes."

"But you're not pregnant."

"No, Dad, I'm not pregnant."

"But you just told me you were." His gaze narrowed behind his glasses. "Because you wanted me to see a worse case before telling me about the Empire Eighty-Eight side of things."

Apprehensively, I nodded. "Uh, yes."

He pressed his lips together. This was not a good sign, but it was a vast improvement, compared to how he'd been a moment ago. "Taylor, I'm disappointed in you."

I began to wonder if the plan had been such a great idea after all. It always works in sitcoms suddenly didn't seem to be such a reliable indicator of success. "I'm sorry, I -"

"Let me finish." His voice was firm, although he seemed to have calmed down. "You should have told me. Even if I wasn't able to do anything to start with. It's better that I know things like this. I could have supported you. I don't like to be blindsided."

"I know, Dad, I didn't ... " I trailed off. How could I say I didn't think you could help me without hurting him badly? "I didn't think," I told him lamely.

"So I gathered," he retorted. "And what were you thinking, associating with a bunch of racist thugs like the Empire Eighty-Eight?"

"Dad, Peter's not a racist thug!" I protested. Racist, yes. Thug, no, I amended in my head. And even the fact of his racism was beginning to have less and less impact than it had before. Am I getting used to it, or am I starting to agree with his views in some part?

I didn't have time to think about it. "I was bullied for a year before he got to Winslow, and nobody did a damn thing about it! Since I met him, he's been nothing but caring and supportive! Okay, so he's in the Empire. So fucking what? Him and his friends are still the only ones who cared enough to do anything about Sophia and Emma and Madison, just because Peter asked them to! And he's the one who got me out of that locker, after Sophia put me in there, and Emma locked the door!"

I stopped for breath, aware that my face was flushed and that my fists were clenched with the intensity of my emotions.

Dad looked at me gravely, and then turned to Peter. "My daughter thinks highly of you, young man. Answer me a question. Why did you offer to intervene on her behalf?"

Peter blinked. "Because she was being bullied by a black girl, sir. And I will not stand aside when I see that happening."

"But there was more than just Sophia doing it," Dad pointed out. "Did you and your friends stop them, as well?"

"Well, yes," Peter told him. "Once she accepted the friendship of the Empire, then we protected her from whoever was trying to bully her. Because the Empire protects its friends."

Dad frowned. "And what form did this 'friendship' take? Was Taylor required to do anything ... specific?"

"God, no, Dad," I burst out. "Peter explained it all before I accepted. They help me out in little ways, I help them out. Nothing bad or wrong. Just ... friends helping each other out."

He gazed at me intently. "So they didn't make you join before helping you out?"

I shook my head emphatically. "No. Seriously. They only want recruits who want to be members."

Another frown. "Right." A sad sigh. "I guess this is largely my fault. I haven't been paying attention. I'm sorry, Taylor. I failed you."

I put my arms around him. "Don't talk like that. You didn't fail me. I'm supposed to be safe at school. If anyone failed me, it was the school. But Peter saved me."

Dad nodded. "Yes, I saw the locker." He paused, giving his attention to Peter as I let him go. "Understand this, boy. I'm not happy with the fact that you're Empire Eighty-Eight. I'm not even happy with the fact that it exists. But the fact of the matter is that it does, and that you've been there for Taylor when I could not. You've been a friend to her, in fact. And now she says you're her boyfriend?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir. She asked me, after we both finished getting cleaned up. I accepted."

Dad glanced my way. "You asked him?" His tone was wondering.

I nodded. "I know he likes me. I like him too. And he's done nothing but support and help me."

Just for a moment, Dad closed his eyes. "Well, there's not much I can say to argue with that." He opened them, and fixed Peter with a stern gaze. "Just remember one thing. Empire Eighty-Eight or no Empire Eighty-Eight, I make the rules as to when she can go on dates, and how long she can stay out on those dates."

"Of course, sir," Peter replied immediately. "You're her father. You have that right."

Dad blinked, as if he had expected argument. "What does your father think of you dating a girl who's not part of the Empire?"

Peter looked him in the eye. "He trusts my judgement, sir. Of course, when the time comes, I'll be expected to marry within the Empire, but that's a long way to go yet."

Dad didn't let up. "Does he know that you're associating with her?"

Peter nodded. "She's been a friend to the Empire for several weeks now. I've made it known that she is to be treated as such. Father has not had a problem with that."

"So what's this 'friend of the Empire' stuff?" He looked at me. "What have you been expected to do?"

"Nothing that I didn't want to," I assured him. "A couple of times, I've loaned some of them a few dollars for the vending machines. I've always gotten it back. I've helped Kelly with his math homework. Bronson wanted to know why his girlfriend was mad at him, so I explained how girls think. I passed on a message from Jenna to her boyfriend. Stuff like that."

"That sounds … pretty mundane," he admitted.

"It really is," I assured him. "Face it, Dad. If they weren't Empire, would you have even the slightest problem with them being my friends?"

From the look on his face, I had scored a hit. "I guess not. But I'm still not comfortable with you having a boyfriend. Especially one who's a member of the Empire."

I raised an eyebrow. "Would you be any more comfortable if he wasn't Empire?"

As if he'd been looking for the opening, he nodded vehemently. "Yes, I would."

I tilted my head. "Why?"

"Because then there'd be far less chance of you being arrested!" he snapped.

"Dad," I told him patiently. "I'm not about to do anything illegal. They haven't asked me to, and I'm not going to. Peter being Empire doesn't change that."

He drew in a breath, and his eyes flicked to Peter for a second. "But -"

It was the look that clued me in. "Dad, is this just about the Empire, or is it even a little bit about springing a surprise boyfriend on you? Because either way, I'm not dumping Peter."

I swallowed a little as I said that, hoping that Dad wouldn't take it as a bluff. As much as I loved him, I couldn't cut ties with Peter, or by extension the Empire. The safety, the security, they now represented to me meant too much.

Some of that must have gotten through to him, because his shoulders slumped slightly and he reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose just below his glasses. "Maybe it is, Taylor," he admitted wearily. "I don't like it that you're associated with the Empire, and I don't like the cheap trick you played. But I can see your mind's made up, and I'm not going to push on it, not right now. But we will be talking about this, later."

I reached out and took his hand. "It's all right, Dad. I'm the same person as I was yesterday. I'm not going to do anything stupid with Peter. But I like him, a lot, and we're going to be spending time together. And I really don't think anyone's going to be trying to bully me again. Not for a long while."

Peter cleared his throat. "Not ever. Not if I've got anything to say about it."

As Dad and I looked at him in surprise, he shrugged slightly. "What? It's true."

Dad gave him a searching look, then grudgingly nodded. "I'll accept that, Peter. For now."

I felt Peter squeeze my hand as he gave Dad a slight smile. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate it."

<><>​

Sophia sat in a holding cell alongside Emma. On arrival at the station, their ID had been checked, and as they had been both found to be minors, they were placed in holding to await the arrival of their respective guardians.

Emma seemed to have drawn in on herself, a mere shadow of the bright, confident Emma with whom Sophia had spoken just that morning. Sophia turned to her. "What the fuck, Emma?" she demanded in a low tone. "What got into you?"

Emma turned to look at her, and her eyes were … dead. Dull. Lifeless. She shook her head. "I don't want to talk to you, Sophia." She got up and walked to the other side of the cell, where she sat down, and recommenced staring at the floor.

"But I want to talk to you, Emma," Sophia snapped, getting up and following her over. "Why the fuck did you roll over on me? We could've held out." She thought back, recalling the events following the locker. "Wait, that Peter guy, he threatened you, didn't he? Listen, fuck him. He can't touch you. He's fucking nothing."

Emma hunched away from her. "Leave me alone. Don't talk to me."

Sophia grabbed her by the shoulder. "Fucking talk to me, bitch!"

At her pull, Emma swung around and shoved her; Sophia stumbled and fell on her ass. Emma glared at her, a momentary flare of life in her eyes. "I said, fucking leave me alone!"

Mindful of those in the cells around her, Sophia came to her feet with athletic ease. She stalked toward Emma, placing each foot carefully. "No-one does that to me, Emma," she stated threateningly. "So unless you want me to show you why not, start talking."

Emma ignored her, hunched away again. Sophia yanked her around again. Emma tried to shove her once more, but Sophia was ready this time, and clipped her on the jaw. Grabbing Emma by the front of her top, she hauled the redhead to her feet and slammed a knee into her stomach; Emma doubled over, retching.

Sophia stepped back, watching her with satisfaction. "Maybe now you'll -"

Emma launched forward off the bars, colliding heavily with Sophia, bringing them both to the ground. Sophia twisted so that the wind wouldn't be knocked out of her; she brought her knee up again and again, into Emma's stomach, and then as she grabbed the other girl's hair and pushed her head down, into her face. Cartilage crunched and blood flowed.

She rolled over, came up on to her knees, arm cocked to throw another punch -

"Sophia!" The shout, a familiar voice, from the cell door caught her attention. She turned, dropping Emma, pushing her hair back as she looked. Alan Barnes was there, flanked by a police officer and Sophia's twit of a PRT handler. There was also a woman in what she recognised as PRT undress uniform; fatigues, sunglasses and beret, but no helmet or body armour. She bore a sergeant's stripes.

As the cell door opened, the PRT sergeant, whose nametag read LASALLE, stepped forward and lifted Sophia to her feet with a hand under her arm. She was marched to the side while Alan dropped to his knees beside Emma. The redhead was still conscious, and he was able to help her to her feet, although blood ran down her face, and she was wobbly on her legs.

"What's going on here?" she addressed the cop. "What's she here for?" She gestured at the PRT woman.

"You," the police officer told her. "Apparently you're a person of interest in an ongoing case of theirs. Fortunately, we got in touch with your social worker, so all that paperwork's filled out. So now you get to go cool your heels in one of their cells, instead of ours. Rest assured, we'll be sending them all the relevant information. Including the fact that you assaulted a police officer."

Sergeant LaSalle nodded, holding up a pair of cuffs. "Turn around," she told Sophia. "Give me your hands."

"What?" blurted Sophia.

LaSalle unhitched a heavy-duty taser from her belt. "Hands," she repeated.

Seething, Sophia turned her back and allowed LaSalle to handcuff her once more. By the time this was finished, Emma had been escorted from the cell.

Sophia's handler entered the cell. "Has she been read her rights?"

The cop nodded. "Sure. Just before she put the guy in the infirmary with a bitten tongue and a wrenched neck." He nodded toward Sophia. "Don't let your guard down. She's a live one."

"So I see," commented LaSalle. She took a firm grip on Sophia's arm. "First and last warning, kid. You act up, I won't try very hard not to hurt you. Understood?"

Sophia gritted her teeth, biting back the response she so very much wanted to give.

LaSalle hitched her arms up slightly, reminding Sophia that her shoulders were not made to turn in that direction. "I asked a question. Do you understand what I said?"

Grinding her teeth together, Sophia nodded jerkily. "I heard you. I understand."

"Good." LaSalle allowed her arms to lower to their normal position. "Let's go, then."

<><>​

Still holding Peter's hand, I waved goodbye to Dad. He waved back, still looking not one hundred percent happy, and got into the car. I sighed as he drove off, and we turned to walk back into the school.

"Maybe I should've done like he said, and taken the day off," I ventured. "I'm not looking forward to the rest of the day."

He smiled at me and squeezed my hand. "I think he wanted to get you away from me, just for a little bit, to prove that he could," he told me jokingly.

I rolled my eyes, and punched him lightly with my free hand. "He's not that petty."

"I've seen Father with my sisters," he countered. "Yes, fathers can be that petty, without even noticing."

"You've got sisters?" I stared at him. "When was I going to hear about this?"

"When you met my family," he replied. "Don't hit me again, please."

"But you having sisters is important," I insisted. "What if they hate me?"

"They won't," he assured me. "They already know about you, and what's been happening." He paused. "I noticed that you didn't tell your father that you were joining the Empire."

I nodded jerkily. "I didn't want to hit him with too much at once. Just letting him know that you were Empire was almost too much for him to accept."

"But you managed it," he pointed out. "Although almost giving both of us heart attacks in the process."

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" I gave him my best innocent look.

He favoured me with a mock glare. "A warning would have been nice."

I giggled. "But the look on your face was priceless. The only thing that would have made it funnier would be Kelly, filming for posterity."

"Kelly values his life and limb more than that," he grumped. "That was mean."

I lifted his arm and tucked myself under it, snuggling up to him. He tightened his grasp slightly; I put my arm around his back. "We survived it, and now Dad knows about us, and sort-of approves," I reminded him.

He nodded judiciously. "There is that." He moved his arm to hold me more firmly around the shoulders. "But please, don't do that again. Or warn me first." Touching his fingers to his lips, he touched mine in turn; I kissed his fingertips gently.

"Deal," I agreed, putting my head on his shoulder.

I felt warm, safe and secure.

I could get used to this.

<><>​

Emma tried not to cry as her nose was re-set; the pain afterward was not nearly as bad as before, but it still hurt. Now, at least, she could breathe. But tears still ran down her face.

Sitting beside her, Alan Barnes held her hand. "What happened?" he asked. "Why did she do that?"

"Because I gave her up, Dad," Emma told him, a little nasally. "I told them everything that I'd ever seen her do."

He blinked. "But why? Why this sudden about-turn? Why are you turning on her?"

She turned to look at him, eyes beseeching him to understand. "Dad, she's done bad things. So have I. They've got us cold on the locker thing. If I roll over on her with everything, before she can do the same to me, they'll go lighter on me. Won't they?"

"Technically, yes, they probably will," he admitted. "But you don't have to admit to anything. Not until you've got an attorney present." He meant that she didn't have to admit to anything the police couldn't prove, as she well knew.

Emma shook her head, recalling Peter's veiled threats. He would carry them through, she knew. It's what I would do. "No, Dad," she told him. "I have to do this. I have to clean the slate."

He frowned, obviously not understanding. "You want to go to juvenile detention?"

Hastily, she shook her head. "No. I just need to get it all off my conscience. Everything Sophia did. Everything I helped her do."

"Well, I'll get the best legal counsel in to represent you," he told her. "Maybe even Carol Dallon."

She mustered a smile. It was weak, but it was there. "Thanks, Dad. I know I can always depend on you."

She felt his arm go around her shoulders, and he hugged her carefully. "Anything for you, Emma. Anything at all."

And so I cast off Sophia Hess, Emma thought blankly. Taylor's stronger than the both of us. Why didn't I see it before?

It was a question that would bother her for quite some time.

<><>​

"Shadow Stalker."

Sophia walked into Director Piggot's office straight and tall. She was still pissed; once in the PRT HMMWV, LaSalle had removed the cuffs, but had kept a watchful eye on her all the same. Re-entering the PRT building didn't feel like coming home; then again, it had never felt like it. More like a prison with work release. An anchor, holding her back.

She hadn't even been given time to clean herself up, or to put her costume on, before being curtly informed that Director Piggot wanted to talk to her. Along with her handler, LaSalle had accompanied her up, hand on the ever-present taser. She wanted to clean the woman's clock, but she had an uncomfortable feeling that the veteran PRT sergeant could hold her own, even against a cape like her.

"Director," she replied, hiding her anger. It would do her no good now. It had done her no good earlier, but this time she was under control. She would not lash out. Lashing out would be a very, very bad idea.

The heavy-set woman behind the desk stared at her with a single-minded intensity. Sophia felt as though she was being disassembled on the molecular level; if the Director had possessed cape powers, she probably wouldn't have survived walking through the door.

Finally, Piggot laced her fingers together before her. "Tell me what happened at the school," she ordered.

Sophia waited for LaSalle to respond – the sergeant surely would have read the report – but the woman didn't speak. And then she realised that the Director was looking at her. "Me?" she blurted.

Piggot nodded once. "You," she confirmed. "You were there. Tell me what happened at the school. Understand that your future relies very heavily on how you tell me this."

Her handler cleared her throat. "I, uh, viewed the report -"

The Director turned her head, and the faux social worker shut up. "I will be speaking to you, later, about your dereliction of duty," Piggot told her flatly. "For now, shut up and listen." She turned back to Sophia. "I'm waiting."

Fuck, thought Sophia. Motherfucking turdburgers. It's all Hebert's fault. She did this to me.

She took a deep breath. "It's all about the Empire Eighty-Eight."

Director Piggot's eyes narrowed. "Please explain."

So Sophia did. She explained about how the Empire was a problem in the school, and how she'd seen them approaching Taylor Hebert. Wracking her brain to try to recall exactly what Emma might have said about her actions, she did her level best to spin them toward keeping Taylor out of the hands of the Empire.

The photos, she said, were one last attempt to snap Hebert out of it, to show her the reality of the people she was associating with. But she had ignored them.

"And the trash in the locker?" asked Piggot relentlessly.

Well, of course she'd ask about it. It was impossible for her not to know about it.

"That was a bit over the top," Sophia admitted, trying for remorse, but not entirely sure how it should go. Should she look at the floor, or meet Piggot's eyes? "And we shouldn't have locked her in there. That was just … it went too far, right there. We would have let her out."

"Yes," Piggot stated flatly. "You should have. But do you know who let her out? A member of the Empire Eighty-Eight. Do you know who took you into custody, and held a member of the Wards for the police? The Empire Eighty-Eight." She was standing by now, leaning against the desk. "And do you know who's showing up as the good guys in all this?" She raised a hand and slapped her desk, with a sound like a pistol shot. "The Empire fucking Eighty-Eight!"

Sophia opened her mouth. "I -"

Piggot glared at her as she subsided back into her chair. "Shut the fuck up. Henceforth, you are banned from all patrols. You will wear a tracking device at all times, until your court date."

Sophia blinked. "Court date?"

"Is there an echo in here?" Piggot leaned forward over the desk. "You will be going back to court, to ascertain exactly what legal penalties will be inflicted upon you regarding today's activities, and all those which Emma Barnes has seen fit to inform us about. I can't kick you out of the Wards today, worse luck, and nor can I throw you straight back into juvenile detention, but once you've attended court, and had the judgement handed down, you will carry out whatever punishment has been assigned to you. As a civilian. Not a cape. Do you understand me?"

Sophia stared. "I – but - "

Piggot seemed to discern her meaning. "Ms Hess, I was going to go somewhat easier on you. Until you chose to assault a police officer. And until I read the list of crimes that Emma Barnes has been assigning to you. Pending proof of those, I have no choice but to decide exactly how big the book is that I'll be throwing at you." She made a tired gesture. "Get her out of here."

Sophia felt her arms being grabbed, clamped behind her. Before she could resist, cuffs closed over her wrists. Not the normal variety; the type designed for her.

And then she was being frog-marched from the room. "You can't do this!" she shouted. "It doesn't happen this way!"

But Piggot was ignoring her, gesturing at her handler to stay. The doors closed behind her. She didn't struggle. It wouldn't do any good.

But she could plan.

Fucking Hebert. It's all her fault.

<><>​

World Affairs class finished, and I put my books back in my bag. As I stood up, I noted Madison and Julia standing nearby. Deliberately, I caught Madison's eye; she flinched back. I smiled slightly. She'd heard. Good.

Leaving the classroom, I smiled again as Kelly fell into step with me. "Hey," I greeted him.

"Hey yourself," he replied. "Any problems?"

I snorted. "Nope. Everyone who ever caused me trouble is backing right off now. The locker was no fun, but now? It's almost worth having gone through it."

He eyed me with respect. "Okay, there is no way in hell you could convince me to go through that."

I nodded. "Well, I have to agree, I'm not about to back up for a second go."

My phone buzzed; I pulled it out and checked the message. In the line. Your usual?

I smiled and tapped out the return message. Yes please. Thank you sweetie.

As I slid the phone back into my pocket, Kelly pulled his own phone out. "Wanna see something cool?"

"What's that?" I asked.

He grinned and played the film clip. I watched as Sophia was handcuffed, with little in the way of gentleness. Then she was searched, and I winced in sympathy. Then her hands were shifted to the front, and she was let make a phone call. And then … "Holy shit," I muttered.

Kelly nodded. "Isn't it classic? And all we had to do was stand there and watch."

I nodded, running the footage back slightly. Was it so very wrong that I revelled in the sight of Sophia Hess being tasered? Because it felt so very right.

We entered the cafeteria. "Later, Taylor," Kelly told me, peeling off toward the tables where the Empire Eighty-Eight contingent sat.

Peter met me halfway across the room, bearing his lunch and mine; I pulled the money out of my pocket to pay him for what he had bought.

"You don't have to do that," he protested.

"So what?" I asked, tucking the notes into his pocket, then relieving him of my lunch.

"Front steps?" he asked, already turning in that direction.

"No," I told him. "I don't think so. Not today."

Wonderingly, he followed me between the tables to where Kelly sat with his shaven-headed buddies, showing them the same filmclip.

"Hey, Kelly," I said.

He looked around. "Hey, Taylor, what's up?"

I indicated the empty chair beside him. "Anyone sitting there?"

He blinked. "Uh, no."

"Good," I told him. "I am." Dropping my lunch on the table, I sat down, and Peter took the seat beside me.

"You're eating with us today?" asked Kelly, looking somewhat surprised.

I nodded. "Well, I'm joining, so I may as well get to know you all, right?"

"Hell yes," agreed Kelly enthusiastically. He began to introduce me to the others around the table; I did my best to remember names, but I knew that they wouldn't be offended if I forgot. In an interval, I turned to look at Peter. He smiled at me, and I smiled back. The guys across the table leaned across to give us both their congratulations; it seemed the news about us being a couple had gotten around. But the comments were all good-natured, friendly. Peter was held in high regard, and apparently, so was I.

As I started on my lunch, I smiled. I had accepted the Empire Eighty-Eight; they had accepted me. I was one of them, now.

It felt good.

It felt right.


End of Part Four

Part Five

 

[Siggimondo]

The thing about Sophia Hess is that she has so much power, both social, physical and metaphysical, that's she's rarely seen while not in some level of control over herself and/or the situation, but it's only when we do that we get a chance to appreciate how UTTERLY BATSHIT INSANE she is.
No one puts this into perspective better than miss Piggot.
Sophia ran afoul of a group that were sufficiently independent from her social grasp to expose her, and as a result the EEE had a PR wet dream come true. Seriously, the Empire couldn't make themselves look this good if they'd planned it years in advance.
If there's a slippery slope here, the people in the EEE are just the slope, Sophia and her attitude are the soap and water.
The really, really scary part is that I could conceive of a me going down that slope. I don't want to be that me, but it's not unthinkable, and that scares me. And yet I can't for the life of me look away.
Never stop doing what you're doing. You're way too good at it. It would be a crime against humanity that no nazi could equal (obvious hyperbole is obvious).

 

[CptTagon]

Nice to see Danny saw through Taylor's little softening attempt. Not so nice to see her being drawn into the E88's circle, but you wouldn't have this story without.

 

[GiftofLove]

Please send her after Emma instead of Taylor. We rarely see that.

 

[doomlord9]

Or better yet, she makes elaborate plans and revenge fantasies but never escapes to use them. She stews in resentment until she finally snaps and shanks someone in juvie, earning herself an adult prison sentence where the same song and dance happens until she earns a lifelong sentence through her own actions in prison and they just birdcage her to make it easier on everyone.

 

[Ack]

Nice to see Danny saw through Taylor's little softening attempt. Not so nice to see her being drawn into the E88's circle, but you wouldn't have this story without.

Click to shrink...

He saw through it, but he still fell for it in part.
Well, after all, it is a slippery slope.

Please send her after Emma instead of Taylor. We rarely see that.

Click to shrink...

She already beat up Emma once. (She's also done that in NSW).

Or better yet, she makes elaborate plans and revenge fantasies but never escapes to use them. She stews in resentment until she finally snaps and shanks someone in juvie, earning herself an adult prison sentence where the same song and dance happens until she earns a lifelong sentence through her own actions in prison and they just birdcage her to make it easier on everyone.

Click to shrink...

Well, she never quite did that in canon, even though the knowledge that the villain who totally OWNED her was also the wimpy victim who she enjoyed putting down made her kick in the TV set and throw a spectacular tantrum.

 

[edale]

Peter opened his mouth, not quite sure what to say. I grabbed his hand and squeezed. "Dad, they're just protecting me because Peter asked them to. He's my boyfriend, and … I think I might be pregnant."

Absolute, stunned silence. Dad's face turned slowly red. Peter, just as slowly, swivelled his head to stare at me, his eyes and mouth opening in a classic oh shit, did you just say what I think you just said expression.

"You … little … slimy … bastard." I always knew that Dad had a temper, but he'd managed to keep it reined in. Mostly. Now he was letting it out again. "I'm going to break your fucking neck."

Click to shrink...

You know, when Taylor mentioned she had a plan, this was number 3 on my list. Peter's reaction, priceless.

"But you managed it," he pointed out. "Although almost giving both of us heart attacks in the process."

Click to shrink...

Mindful of those in the cells around her, Sophia came to her feet with athletic ease. She stalked toward Emma, placing each foot carefully. "No-one does that to me, Emma," she stated threateningly. "So unless you want me to show you why not, start talking."

Emma ignored her, hunched away again. Sophia yanked her around again. Emma tried to shove her once more, but Sophia was ready this time, and clipped her on the jaw. Grabbing Emma by the front of her top, she hauled the redhead to her feet and slammed a knee into her stomach; Emma doubled over, retching.

Click to shrink...

Sophia, Sophia, Sophia... You know you've fucked up when you need binoculars to see the light at the exit of the hole you've dug yourself into.

She would not lash out. Lashing out would be a very, very bad idea.

Click to shrink...

Wow, if only she'd figured that out while being arrested... or in the holding cells...

As I slid the phone back into my pocket, Kelly pulled his own phone out. "Wanna see something cool?"

"What's that?" I asked.

He grinned and played the film clip. I watched as Sophia was handcuffed, with little in the way of gentleness. Then she was searched, and I winced in sympathy. Then her hands were shifted to the front, and she was let make a phone call. And then … "Holy shit," I muttered.

Kelly nodded. "Isn't it classic? And all we had to do was stand there and watch."

I nodded, running the footage back slightly. Was it so very wrong that I revelled in the sight of Sophia Hess being tasered? Because it felt so very right.

Click to shrink...

Oh good. My "only regret" from last chapter has been addressed.

Piggot seemed to discern her meaning. "Ms Hess, I was going to go somewhat easier on you. Until you chose to assault a police officer. And until I read the list of crimes that Emma Barnes has been assigning to you. Pending proof of those, I have no choice but to decide exactly how big the book is that I'll be throwing at you." She made a tired gesture. "Get her out of here."

Click to shrink...

You... You... Damn you... You actually made me like Piggot in this fic... At least I know she's sure to fuck it up and make me hate her again before the fics done though...I hope...

As I started on my lunch, I smiled. I had accepted the Empire Eighty-Eight; they had accepted me. I was one of them, now.

It felt good.

It felt right.

Click to shrink...

I... What... Why... Why must the feels come with such a sense of foreboding...


Ack, my man, you are FAR too good at writing this fic... and I'm not sure what that says about you as a person.

*edit- Oh and Ack, outta curiosity before I get around to reading it, that new War Games fic. How easy will it be to follow what's going on if I have never even heard of the book series you're crossing with? Because that list of terms looks rather....long...

 

[doomlord9]

Well, she never quite did that in canon, even though the knowledge that the villain who totally OWNED her was also the wimpy victim who she enjoyed putting down made her kick in the TV set and throw a spectacular tantrum.

Click to shrink...

True but in canon she wasn't so completely fucked over and betrayed by pretty much everyone as well as getting screwed over personally by E88.

Slippery Slope!Sophia is hitting heights of rage that canon never really saw.

 

[GiftofLove]

Didn't she try to murder Taylor more than once?

 

[doomlord9]

Didn't she try to murder Taylor more than once?

Click to shrink...

Yes but that was just disposing of an inconvenience, no actual rage was involved at that point.

 

[Ack]

You know, when Taylor mentioned she had a plan, this was number 3 on my list. Peter's reaction, priceless.Sophia, Sophia, Sophia... You know you've fucked up when you need binoculars to see the light at the exit of the hole you've dug yourself into.Wow, if only she'd figured that out while being arrested... or in the holding cells...Oh good. My "only regret" from last chapter has been addressed.You... You... Damn you... You actually made me like Piggot in this fic... At least I know she's sure to fuck it up and make me hate her again before the fics done though...I hope...I... What... Why... Why must the feels come with such a sense of foreboding...

Click to shrink...

Because you know that she's not going to wise up any time soon.

When the Empire Eighty-Eight shows up as the good guys, you know the shit has hit the fan in orbital-bombardment quantities.

Ack, my man, you are FAR too good at writing this fic... and I'm not sure what that says about you as a person.

Click to shrink...

That I'm capable of separating my feeling of right and wrong from what I write?

*edit- Oh and Ack, outta curiosity before I get around to reading it, that new War Games fic. How easy will it be to follow what's going on if I have never even heard of the book series you're crossing with? Because that list of terms looks rather....long...

Click to shrink...

Should be reasonable easy. The list just gives a little background (or simple explanation) on terms used in the story. Some of which should be self-explanatory anyway.

True but in canon she wasn't so completely fucked over and betrayed by pretty much everyone as well as getting screwed over personally by E88.
Slippery Slope!Sophia is hitting heights of rage that canon never really saw.

Click to shrink...

So, the finishing touch should be Kaiser doing a press conference and promising to 'make the streets safe from the Wards'.

Yes but that was just disposing of an inconvenience, no actual rage was involved at that point.

Click to shrink...

I thought she only tried to murder Taylor once, when the Undersiders trapped her.

Unless when she kicked the chair through the wall was a murder attempt. (That was more fuck-you than removing an inconvenience).

 

[edale]

That I'm capable of separating my feeling of right and wrong from what I write?

Click to shrink...

A sociopathic writing style?

 

[GiftofLove]

This fiction has an emotionally distant father.

 

[Ack]

This fiction has an emotionally distant father.

Click to shrink...

No, that's I, Panacea.

 

[Ack]

The Slippery Slope

Part Five: Meet the Family


"I have to say, Mr Hebert, you're a very good cook."

I hid my smile as Dad glanced at Peter, obviously trying to figure out how to respond to the compliment.

"I ... it's really nothing," he managed. "After Taylor's mother passed, it was a matter of either learning to cook, or subsisting on takeout or mac and cheese."

Peter grinned engagingly. He was good at that. "I know many people who would have settled for takeout." The grin faded. "Taylor told me about her mom. You have my sympathy. My own mother died when I was quite young." His eyes dropped.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dad blinked, and looked to me.

"I remember you telling me about it," I told Peter, putting my hand on his. "But I don't remember how it happened. Was it an accident, or did she get sick?"

Dad cleared his throat. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, kiddo ..."

"No, no, it's fine." Peter lifted his eyes from the table and rolled his hand over, closing his fingers over mine. "It was a long time ago. I was too young to really know her. Father told me that a supervillain killed her."

"A supervillain?" I sat up, shocked. My fingers squeezed Peter's, and he tightened his grip in reply. "Was it some kind of, of racial thing? Is that why ..." I trailed off.

"Why I'm in the Empire Eighty-Eight?" He shook his head, with a wan smile. "No, it had nothing to do with race. It was just some stupid pointless thing that never should have happened. But it did, and my mom died because of it."

Dad cleared his throat. "So who, uh, if you don't mind me asking ..."

"Who did it?" Peter shrugged. "I don't know. They never told me. I just got told that he was sent to the Birdcage. For that, or for something else, I have no idea."

"Does it bother you?" I asked softly, putting my other hand on his.

"A little," he admitted. "Not knowing who he is, or if he's even alive in there. Not knowing why he killed my mom ... yeah. Sometimes I just wish I could talk to him, just once, and ask him why. Why he took my mom from me."

"You wouldn't be after revenge?" asked Dad, just a little cynically. "Because what I hear is that the Empire's really big on revenge and eye-for-an-eye."

"Dad!" I exclaimed, shocked. "Don't say stuff like that!"

"No, no, it's a fair question," Peter assured me. "And while I'm pretty sure that it would feel good to have me, him and a baseball bat in the same room together, I'm also pretty sure that the last ten years in the Birdcage would have done more to him than I ever could. Like I said, I'm not even sure if he's still alive in there."

"That's a very mature outlook, Peter," Dad observed. "I've known grown men who wouldn't measure up as well as that."

Peter smiled at the praise. "Well, I can't entirely claim the credit for that. After Mom died, I was raised by my father and my uncle, mainly. They taught me the value of pragmatism, and how to be self-reliant. How to be strong, and to how important it is to stand up for what you believe in."

His tone shifted as he spoke, so that by the time he was finished, his voice was the only sound that I could hear. His presence, his personality, were almost palpable; I thought I could see the man he would become, someday. Tall and strong and proud; a leader of men. Someone I could stand alongside; someone I could share my life with. Can I? Do I have what it takes?

"Well," Dad commented into the silence that followed. "You've had speech training, I can tell."

Unexpectedly, Peter grinned again, once more a teenager with slightly mussed hair. "Yeah," he agreed. "Uncle Max insisted. It's kind of fun. They seem to think I'm pretty good at it."

"You are," agreed Dad. "I've heard plenty of speeches, and made one or two myself. Ever thought of going into politics?"

"To be honest, sir, I'd prefer to have a job like yours," Peter demurred. "Where you don't have to compromise your morals and your beliefs every time you open your mouth, just to keep one interest group or another happy and voting for you."

Dad opened his mouth, and then closed it again. "Huh. You have a point." He smiled briefly. "Although you might find that it's less rewarding than you imagine. Fighting tooth and nail to ensure that not everything is taken away from the people who trust you to watch out for their well-being, by the people who are supposed to be watching out for yours."

Peter nodded. "I can see that. But what's the point in having a dream if you can't be bothered fighting for it?"

"You're a very dangerous young man."

Dad's comment was unexpected, and I stared at him in consternation. "Dad!"

He may as well have been commenting on the weather, for all the reaction he got from Peter, who tilted his head slightly. "Interesting observation, sir. Why do you say that?"

"Because it's been so pleasant having you over and talking to you that I nearly forgot which organisation you belong to." Dad had a faint smile on his face, his eyes half-closed. "You're young, idealistic, and full of drive. You've undoubtedly been tutored in politics by your elders, and so you have the basic knowledge of how to get to where you want to go, to implement your beliefs. For a member of a white-supremacist organisation, you're not stupid. You're not some jack-booted thug; you're a polite and personable young man, and you've won my daughter's heart through your own merits, not by any fast-talking or trickery."

Slowly, Peter nodded. "All of which is true, sir." He fell silent, apparently awaiting further comment.

Dad swung his gaze on to me. "Taylor, if I thought for even a moment that it would stick, I would forbid you to see Peter. I know it won't. So I'm not going to try."

"Dad, I - "

He raised his hand slightly from the table, spreading the fingers in a 'stop' motion; I stopped talking.

"You don't see what I see, kiddo," he told me quietly. "You don't see the danger in him."

"He's not a danger to me!" I protested.

"Well, no, he's not," he admitted. "Unless I miss my guess, he's going to do his best to keep you just as safe as he can. Aren't you, Peter?"

"Yes, sir." Peter nodded.

"And so." Dad's smile widened a fraction. "Young man, you have a tell. You might want to look into that, for future reference."

I saw Peter's eyes widen very slightly. "May I ask what it is, sir?"

"I'll leave that for you to figure out." Dad turned to me. "Like I said, Peter is not directly dangerous to you. And in fact, given this mess at Winslow, your association with him is probably good – in the short term. But in the long term, the Empire Eighty-Eight has enemies, and will likely make more, and if you associate with them, you might end up in the cross-hairs. Do you really want to risk that?"

My throat was suddenly dry. I realised, somewhat belatedly, what Dad was doing; what he'd been doing for the entire dinner. He's treating me as an adult. Treating Peter as one. Telling us how it is. Not sugar-coating it.

I took a deep breath and faced my father, looking him in the eye. "Dad, this is Brockton Bay. Life is dangerous, here. We're in about the top seven cities in the US for capes per capita, and most of those are supervillains. And if it's not the capes, it's the gangs."

"I know, Taylor, but I -"

Letting go Peter's hand, I made a 'stop' gesture of my own. "Sorry, Dad, but can I finish?"

A nod. "Go ahead."

I hated arguing with Dad like this, but he had to understand my side of things. "I go to a school where the Empire competes with the Merchants and the ABB for turf. The staff are so distracted by the gang problems that people like Sophia and Emma can bully someone like me without anyone ever noticing. You saw what they did to me this time. If Peter and his friends hadn't stepped in, if they'd gotten away with it, what would they have done next? And they aren't even part of a gang." My voice was getting heated; I pulled it back a notch. "Seriously, it's a demonstrated fact that it's safer to be associated with the Empire Eighty-Eight than not!"

"You're right." Dad's voice was calm and measured.

"I – I am?" I blinked. Did I actually just win an argument with Dad?

"Sure. I already told you that right now, your association with Peter is a good thing for you. It's later on that I'm worried about. Peter's charismatic and intelligent, and once he leaves school, unless I miss my guess, he's going to be moving toward a position of some influence." He gave me a meaningful look. "And combine that with his choice of ideologies … "

"You don't know that'll happen." I knew it was feeble as soon as I said it, but I didn't want to even think of reasons for me to split with Peter.

"Taylor." It was Peter. I turned to look at him.

"Yes?" My voice was faint in my ears.

"Your father is right. Being at my side won't necessarily be the safest place in the world." He paused. "But."

"But what?" His hand was warm between mine.

"But the Empire Eighty-Eight always does its best to protect -" He almost said its own, but I saw him change his words mid-sentence. "- those associated with it. And its best is very good indeed. So it will be a place not without risks, but also not without protection." He shrugged, his tone becoming light, easy. "Or we may decide to break up before then. Who can tell?"

I looked at my father. "Dad?"

"As he says, you may break up before then." His tone indicated that he didn't hold much hope out for that particular outcome. "And once you leave school, I can't make you do anything, or stop doing anything, anyway. Just please … don't do anything stupid in the meantime?"

"I wasn't about to," I assured him, then took a deep breath. "There is something that I want to run past you, though."

"Do tell." I didn't miss the fact that he sat up slightly, looked more alert.

Peter shot me a glance; I knew that he knew what I was about to say. His glance said, I hope you know what you're doing.

I squeezed his hand. So do I.

"Uh, well, Peter's invited me to attend a kind of family gathering. And I've kind of agreed to go along."

For a long, long moment after I finished speaking, no-one said a word. A lone fly buzzed through the living room; the clock ticked quietly on the wall. I opened my mouth to fill the silence, to give details, but Peter squeezed my hand warningly, and I shut up again.

"A gathering." Dad's voice was almost contemplative.

"Yes, sir." Peter's was polite.

"And by 'family', I presume that Taylor actually means 'Empire Eighty-Eight'; am I correct?"

"That is correct, sir."

"And what happens at these gatherings, Peter?" I wasn't fooled by the mildness of his tone; I hoped Peter wasn't either.

"It's a party, sir. Usually it's a barbecue, or they roast a pig or something. Kids run around playing games and having fun. Adults stand around with drinks, catching up on what's been going on. There's enough adult supervision for the teenagers to not get into any real trouble, but it's light enough that we can still enjoy ourselves."

"Drinking? Smoking? Drugs?" Dad had caught the one word, and had extrapolated the other two.

"No, sir," Peter responded at once. "It's a kid-friendly environment. No drinking or smoking if you're underage. And the strongest drug that you'll find at a gathering like that would be weed, and only among the adults."

"I find it hard to believe that teenagers of any stripe would not choose to act out, especially when it comes to impressing their peers." Dad's tone was very dry.

"It's about family, sir. Teenagers are seen to be representing their families as much as the adults are. If a teenager screws up in public, makes a spectacle of himself, or gets caught smoking or drinking when he really shouldn't be, then it reflects badly on the family. Someone pulling that crap would likely be banned from further gatherings, and no-one wants that. They're the big social event."

"Hm." Dad rubbed his chin. "So you've told me what happens. Now tell me what really happens at these gatherings."

Peter lifted his chin just a little. "It's a chance for them to look us over, sir. See how we interact with our own peer group, how we do in a social situation. Determine which of us can be brought along, and which are better in a subordinate role."

"And where do you think Taylor will fall in all of that?" asked Dad pointedly.

"Oh, Taylor's not a member, sir," Peter reminded him. "People who are associated, but not members, don't get in on that. For them, for the rank and file, it's just a party, a gathering of like-minded people."

"And you want to go to this gathering, Taylor?"

I was caught on the back foot by Dad's question. "Uh, yes. Yes, I do."

"Why?"

Why indeed. "I, uh, Peter asked me if I wanted to go in December. I didn't really feel up to it. Thought I'd be out of place. But since then, everyone's been helping me out so much. I'd feel like I was snubbing them or something if I didn't go at least once, just to say hi."

Every word was true, and yet I knew I was lying by omission. I hated to hide things from Dad, but there was the simple fact that when I sat down at the table with the Empire guys, they always greeted me, treated me as one of their own. They were nice to me.

I didn't want to lose that.

I didn't want to lose what I had with Peter.

Dad just wouldn't understand.

And so I told him what I wanted him to hear, instead of the total and absolute truth. That I intended to join the Empire Eighty-Eight.

Dad's gaze on me was intent, and I was worried that he would see straight through my feeble subterfuge. But he didn't denounce me, didn't hit me with the third degree, as he had with Peter.

"Well," he mused at last, "it's a fact that no man ever approves of his daughter's taste in boys. And short of pulling you out of school altogether and enrolling you in Arcadia – which I would if I could, don't get me wrong – there's no way I can prevent you two from seeing each other, at school and out of school as well, if you wanted to."

He paused then, a look not unlike pain crossing his face. I had seen it before; he had worn it when faced with an unpalatable dilemma, neither action being one he really wanted to contemplate.

"Sir, I -" began Peter, for once failing to read a situation properly.

"Save it." Dad gave me a measured glance, then looked at Peter. "I've spoken to you before about how I don't like the fact that you're from the Empire Eighty-Eight. This dinner's given me a better chance to get a look at you, and I'm more than ever certain that I don't want my daughter going around with you."

He sighed heavily, unhappily. "Unfortunately, I seem destined to not get my way, these days. Between the fact that you actually represent a measure of safety for her, and my gut feeling that any attempt to split you up would drive you closer together, I'm going to let it lie. I'm not okay with it, but I believe that I can trust you to not let harm come to Taylor. I can trust you with that, right?"

"Yes, sir." Peter nodded earnestly. "You can. You have my word."

"Which I suspect is somewhat better than that of some of the people on the city council," Dad murmured, more to himself than us. "Taylor."

"Yes, Dad?"

"I want you to promise me just one thing."

I waited; he didn't speak. "Yes, Dad?"

A deep sigh. "I want you to promise me that if ever anything starts looking skeevy, if being with Peter ever stops looking fun and starts looking dangerous, if you ever, ever start thinking 'I don't want to be here', that you'll call me. Any time, any place. I'll come get you. I'll even forgo my parental right to tell you 'I told you so'. Just promise me that. Okay?"

I swallowed. Dad's tone sounded almost … desperate. Poor Dad. He thought I was safe at school, until I wasn't. He can't keep me safe, no matter how much he tries. And now, the people who did keep me safe are people he doesn't want me around. Even though I like and trust them.

He really is between a rock and a hard place.

"I will, Dad." My lips were dry; I moistened them. "I promise. If anything like that starts happening, I'll call you, I'll get hold of a phone and call you straight away." I had nearly given away the fact that Peter had already given me a phone. Did he notice?

Apparently not; he nodded. "All right, then. Peter, you're being picked up, yes?"

"Yes, sir. My father's coming around."

Dad nodded. "Good. When he gets here, could you please tell him that I'd like to talk to him?"

Peter's eyes widened slightly. "I – yes, sir. I can do that."

"Good," Dad repeated, and leaned back in his chair. "Well, that was a fairly intense dinnertime topic. Who wants dessert?"

<><>

Dessert had gone down moderately well; the tension hadn't totally dissipated, but it had been reduced considerably. I now knew how Dad felt about Peter, and that he had reached a certain level of acceptance about him.

We sat watching TV; Peter and I held hands, and Dad affected not to notice. A news article came up about the ABB; we discussed it seriously. I noticed that Peter kept his racist terms to a minimum, and gave solid opinions on the Asian gang; their aims, their motivations and their likely moves. A cape had attempted to crash the New York Stock Exchange; he had been detected and stopped with plenty of time to spare, or so the newscaster claimed.

"Electromaster," Dad commented. "I don't know that one."

"Nor do I," admitted Peter. "His name's never come up before."

"Stupid name anyway," I offered.

Peter chuckled and put his arm around my shoulders to give me a quick hug; I leaned into him.

"You're not wrong," he agreed. "There's a certain mentality among new capes sometimes; they get powers, work out a costume, and they're straight out to either take over the world or fix all its problems. What they somehow fail to realise is that we've had capes for thirty years. If someone could do that so easily, someone else would already have done it."

"And you know this how?" asked Dad curiously.

"Well, I don't know this personally," admitted Peter, "but I'm told by those in the know that the Empire capes have to smack down some young upstart every couple of months. Or, you know, someone challenges Lung, and they have to hold a closed-casket funeral."

"Ew, no thanks," I replied with a shudder. I didn't know all that much about Lung, but what I did know was 'do not mess with'.

I looked up at a knock on the door. Peter checked his watch. "That's probably Father," he noted. Getting up from the sofa, he squeezed my hand before letting go, and heading out into the entrance hall. I followed along anyway, with Dad right behind me.

When Peter opened the door, the cold air rolled in. I was pretty sure that the man standing there was his father; they had the same basic look, although Mr Ferguson had a few inches and a couple dozen pounds on Peter.

"Good evening, all," he greeted us past Peter. "I trust my son has been behaving himself?"

"He has indeed," Dad responded. "Danny Hebert."

Peter stepped aside, and his father shook Dad's hand. "Ed Ferguson," he told us. "And you must be Taylor. At the risk of sounding like a cliché, Peter has told me so much about you."

"I'm very pleased to meet you, sir," I replied, holding out my hand. I wasn't even sure where the 'sir' came in, unless it was unconscious mimicry of Peter. He shook my hand carefully, squeezing just hard enough to avoid the impression of a dead fish.

"You too, Taylor. I heard about the incident at school; I'm glad to see that you've recovered from it."

"It could've been a lot worse," I noted. "If Peter hadn't been there ..."

He nodded. "I'm just glad he was. Are you ready to go, Peter?"

Dad coughed, and Peter glanced at him. "Oh, uh, Mr Hebert wants to have a word with you before you go, Father?"

Mr Ferguson looked at Dad with a modicum of curiosity, then nodded. "Certainly. Where shall we talk?"

"Outside will do," Dad replied briefly. "It won't take long."

It was kind of chilly out, being January and all, but for some reason, the temperatures rarely dropped too far, even in winter, and almost never went below freezing at all. Dad stepped out on to the porch and shut the door firmly; I heard his footsteps going down the steps.

"Wonder what they're talking about?" I asked.

Peter grinned slightly. "He's probably asking Father to confirm what I said about the gatherings."

"You did tell the truth, right?" I asked.

"Of course I did," he replied immediately. "I had an idea he'd check."

"Good." I hugged him then, holding him close to me. He put his arms around me, and I felt warm and safe and protected.

I knew I couldn't have it all the time, but even being able to hug Peter sometimes was far better than nothing.

Without prompting, my face lifted to his; his lips met mine in our second kiss. Fireworks failed to go off behind my eyes; the world did not ascend to a higher plane. I just felt … at ease. Complete.

Closing my eyes, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He leaned his head so that it rested in turn upon mine; I felt good. Comfortable. Whole.

We were still holding each other, comfortable in each others' presence, when the door opened once more to let both my father and the winter chill back in.

"Ready to go, Peter?" asked Ed Ferguson once more, from the porch.

"Yes, Father." And Peter squeezed my shoulders one more time, then let me go. Stepped away from me. "Good night, Taylor. I had a really good time."

I smiled at him. "So did I. See you at school?"

"See you at school."

And then he clattered down the steps, and into the night. I wandered out on to the porch, watched them get into the car. Doors closed, and I thought I saw a wave. I waved back anyway; the car started up and drove away. When it was quite out of sight, I went back inside and closed the door.

<><>

Dad was in the kitchen, clearing away the dishes. I went through, to give him a hand.

"So how did the talk go?"

He looked over at me. "It went. I asked questions; he answered to my satisfaction. I'm good with you going to this gathering."

"Good with it?" I put the plug in the sink, started the hot water running.

"Well, not unhappy with it," he amended.

"Well, I'm glad you're letting me do it," I told him sincerely.

"If I told you not to go, would you stay away?" His voice was curious.

I considered that. "Probably. I wouldn't be happy, but I can still see Peter at school. And he already told me that even if I didn't go, he still wants to be my boyfriend."

He shook his head slightly. "Every father lives in fear that his daughter will become smitten with some uncouth lowlife. I suppose having an Empire Eighty-Eight boyfriend isn't as bad as it could be."

"Yeah," I agreed, adding dishwashing detergent. It immediately started to froth. "I could be going out with someone from the ABB. Or the Merchants."

"Merchants, no," he replied. "I suppose that the ABB would be as bad as the Empire, in this instance."

Worse, I thought, but I didn't vocalise it.

I didn't hate Asians, didn't think that they were inferior, but I had seen them watching me sitting with the Empire boys, and I had seen the flat hostility in their faces. They didn't like me, even though they knew nothing about me. They assumed that just because I liked an Empire boy, that I was automatically a racist. I wasn't, but they didn't know about that. Even if they had, they probably wouldn't have cared. To them, I was the enemy.

I didn't want it that way, I didn't like it that way, but it was the way it was. Up until I met Peter, I hadn't had any Asian friends. To be honest, I hadn't had any friends at Winslow, given that Sophia and Emma had scared away anyone who wasn't Greg Veder (who was oblivious) and Sparky (who was semi-conscious at the best of times).

The majority of Asian students in the school, I figured, were either ABB, thinking about joining, or keeping their heads down so they didn't get noticed. However, all of them recognised the Empire Eighty-Eight as their enemy. Which made them see me as the enemy.

I can't help that. Peter and his friends stopped the bullying. None of the Asian students did anything to help me. If they have a problem with me supporting the people who helped me, saved me from the locker, then screw them.

I set to scrubbing plates, my mind busy.

They never raised a hand to help when I needed it. But now that I've gotten help, they want me to ignore the people who gave it to me? They don't get to dictate that shit to me. Fuck them. Fuck them all.

Almost imperceptibly, an epiphany opened up before me.

I would stand by my allies, no matter what. And to hell with anyone who tried to tell me otherwise.

<><>

I sat nervously on the sofa. Not for the first time, I had to restrain myself from jumping up and running into the kitchen to check the time.

"Relax," Dad told me. "You're wearing yourself into a frazzle."

I looked up at him. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one who's going to meet his family."

He chuckled warmly. "I remember the first time I went to meet your mom's parents. We were both so nervous, I thought I was going to throw up."

"Oh god, don't say that." Now I was terrified of throwing up.

"You'll do fine. And here."

"What?" I looked at the thing he was holding out to me. It was a cheap cell phone, almost identical to the one currently residing in my handbag. "Dad, that's a phone."

"Good eye, kiddo. Take it." I did so.

"I'm pretty sure I managed to get the house phone into speed dial. Even if I didn't, you know it, right?"

"I know it," I agreed. "But Dad … you don't agree with cells. Not since ..." Not since Mom died.

He heard what I didn't say. "No. But I think this is a situation where it's necessary. You want to do this, and I don't want to drive you away by trying to stop you. So … if you need to get hold of me, you don't even need to borrow a phone." His eyes were serious. "I know that Peter means well, and his father assured me that the gatherings are harmless. But … this is the Empire Eighty-Eight. You're allowed in, as Peter's guest; I'm not. This frightens me more than anything else."

"And if I call?" I hefted the phone.

"Then I'll come in anyway." He squared what jaw he had. "Call me, and I will come get you. I promise."

"I will, Dad. If I don't like it, I will call. I promise."

The creases on his forehead didn't go away altogether, but they did ease off a little. "That's all I ask, kiddo."

I tucked the phone into my handbag and stood up; he hugged me, and I hugged him back. Dad didn't know the Empire, not like I did. I didn't feel in any danger from them. He couldn't know that; all he knew was what people said about them. But he hadn't set himself against me, just because I was affiliated with them, and for that I loved him.

At that moment, I heard the tyres crunch on gravel at the side of the road, just outside the house. "I think that's him. Do I look all right? Oh god, I look a mess, don't I?"

"You look fine," he assured me. "I do like the fact that you've been wearing brighter colours these days. You're happier, more confident."

This was due to Peter; Dad knew it, and I knew it. My grades were up, and I was actually looking forward to going to school every day. Jenna and I had cruised the Market a couple of times, getting ready for the Gathering; she had picked out clothing that she said suited me. I had worn some of the outfits to school, and Peter's compliments had proved her right.

There was a knock on the door; I broke free from Dad, and almost ran to open it. Peter stood there on the porch; he looked sharp. Dark trousers, black coat over a white button-up shirt; the clothes were ironed, his shoes were polished. His hair was very slightly mussed, in the way that made me want to run my hands through it.

"Wow, Taylor, you look nice," he blurted. "I mean, you always look nice, but wow, you look really nice."

I blushed and shuffled my feet. I hadn't put this much thought into getting dressed since forever. Jenna had picked out the knee-length dark blue dress, and the shoes that went with it. The wrap over my shoulders – it was likely to be chilly, later – was such a dark blue as to almost be black. I had brushed my hair to a shine, after shampooing it extravagantly, and then tied it back with a dark blue ribbon. Makeup was not my thing; I didn't know how to do eyeliner or mascara or the rest of it, so I had just put on a little lip gloss.

"Uh, thanks," I mumbled. "You look … wow, like someone on the front of one of those trendy magazines."

There was that engaging grin again. It sent tingles right down my spine. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"Peter." That was Dad, right behind me.

Peter raised his head slightly. "Mr Hebert, hello. How are you today, sir?"

"I'm fine. What time do you expect to have Taylor back by?"

"Eleven sharp, sir," Peter replied promptly. "At the latest. Gatherings tend to start breaking up around ten, ten thirty. It's not an all-nighter."

I caught the motion of Dad's nod out of the corner of my eye. "I'll hold you to that. Have a good time, both of you. And Peter … "

"Yes, sir?"

"Please take care of my daughter."

Peter's nod was definite. "Always, sir."

We trod down the steps and along the path to where the car waited at the side of the road. It was a very nice car; some expensive model, and it looked relatively new. The car Dad and I used to get around in hardly measured up by comparison.

Peter opened the door for me, and I climbed in, settling myself on to an expensive-smelling seat. There were two girls in here already; they looked at me with intense curiosity as Peter closed the door for me. Both of them were younger than me; the one in the middle looked about twelve.

"Hello," the girl on the far side greeted me; she looked and sounded about thirteen or fourteen. "You're Taylor."

"That's me," I agreed. "And you are?"

Peter opened the front door and got in; I pulled my seat belt around me and buckled it in.

"I'm Melissa," the older girl told me, "and this is Helen."

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you both," I replied. "I hope we'll be friends."

"Of course we'll be friends," Helen responded immediately. "I like your hair."

"Your hair is really nice, too," I told her. And it was; a lighter colour than mine, it had done up into a complicated French braid.

"Peter likes you," Melissa observed brightly.

"Peter likes you a lot!" Helen added, and burst into giggles.

"And so it begins," Peter murmured from the front seat, just loud enough for me to hear.

"Now, now," Mr Ferguson commented from the driver's seat as he started the car. "Play nice, kids. Taylor, how are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr Ferguson." And I was. I had butterflies in my stomach, but that was normal for something like this. I hoped.

As the car pulled away from the curb, I looked back at the house. Dad was still standing in the doorway. I waved; he waved back. And then he was out of sight.

<><>

"Wow," I exclaimed. I sounded like an excited teenager, but there it was. "You rented the Augustus Country Club?"

"Through intermediaries, yes," Mr Ferguson confirmed. "Of course, they don't know the real purpose of the gathering, but then, they don't have to." Leaving the car running, he climbed out, as Peter got out on his side.

Each of them opened one of the back doors, and I let Peter hand me out of the car. Turning, I offered my hands to Helen; giggling, she let me help her out of the car. Peter closed the door and offered each of us an arm; side by side, we strolled into the Club.

I had been to the Augustus Country Club once before, years ago. Alan Barnes had been attending some sort of event, and his wife and older daughter had been unable to attend, so he had offered the spare tickets to Dad and me. That was the first time I had ever seen Dad in a suit and tie, and I had been so overawed, I had barely been able to eat a bite. Emma had had a ball, of course; she had that knack of being able to fit in, five minutes after walking into a place.

This time around, I still didn't feel as though I belonged, but I thought that I could fake it, at least for the night. I smiled at Peter; he smiled back. "Wow," I murmured. "This place."

"Makes you just want to hide in a corner, doesn't it?" he replied perceptively.

"Not you, I bet," I told him.

He grinned. "You'd be surprised. I've come here a few times, and even now, I sometimes feel like I've walked into someone else's party."

I suspected that he was putting on a little bit of an act to put me at my ease. It was working, however; I felt my breathing slow down, and my heart rate ease off.

At the main doors, six large men stood shoulder to shoulder with folded arms, blocking entry. They wore suits and bow-ties, but they would have been classic heavies on any movie set anywhere. The shaven heads and scarred knuckles were just gilding the lily, as it were. Peter marched up to them and stopped.

"Peter Ferguson, Helen Ferguson and Taylor Hebert, guest," he announced.

One of them pulled out some sort of electronic pad, just as Peter's father caught up with us, his other daughter on his arm. "Edward Ferguson and Melissa Ferguson," he stated.

Finger-taps on the screen were announced by tiny electronic beeps, and the heavy nodded. "Ferguson party, yeah," he grunted. "Pins."

By way of answer, Peter and the others pulled out discreet gold pins and attached them to their lapels; I found a silver version of the same pin being offered to me by the heavy. Taking it, I pushed it through my dress so that it showed up plainly. "Uh, thank you," I stammered.

The only reply I got was a grunt as they moved aside to let us through; Peter took my arm and we entered my first ever gathering of the Empire Eighty-Eight.

<><>

My first impression was They look so ordinary!

And they did; nobody was dressed up as a Nazi officer, or offering raised-arm salutes. Nor were any Empire Eighty-Eight capes slinking about in costume. I supposed that such things might just give the game away; even if there were any capes here, they were safely disguised behind evening dress. And even if there were, and others here knew of them, I certainly didn't.

"I thought you said there would be a barbecue or a roast pig," I commented as we crossed the expanse of tiled floor toward the rear palazzo.

"I said that's usually how they do it," Peter reminded me. "This time, we're just going to have to suffer with the all-you-can-eat buffet. And I suspect that roast pork will be on the menu anyway. Father and Uncle Max do like their crackling."

Helen tugged on Peter's other arm. "Can I go play on the computer games?"

I glanced at him. "Computer games?"

""She means arcade games," he told me. "Wait just a moment," he advised her. "We have to make an appearance, be seen to be here. Then you can go and play as you want. Melissa can go with you."

"What if I don't want to?" challenged Melissa.

Mr Ferguson cleared his throat. "Melissa -"

"I want to see my own friends," she pointed out. "It's not like I don't want to spend time with Helen, but I want some time of my own, too. You're always saying how we have to make our connections and contacts."

"I'll go with Helen," I ventured hastily. "I haven't seen the arcade games here. Can you show me how to play them, Helen?"

"Sure!" the girl agreed readily. "That'll be super!"

"And once I've caught up with Tammi, I'll come find you," Melissa added. "Let you have your time with Peter." She grinned at me; I grinned back.

"Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed. "Thanks, Taylor."

"Hey, if I'm going to be a part of this, I might as well do my bit, right? Friend of the Empire and all."

"Yeah, well, offering to babysit my sister is really going above and beyond, that's all I'm saying," he commented. I caught the sly glance he gave Helen; she poked her tongue out at him, then hastily withdrew it as her father cleared his throat.

<><>

While there were people walking back and forth in the main area of the Country Club, all discreetly wearing a pin – mostly gold, a very few silver like mine – more and more people seemed to be congregating out on the palazzo. Wide enough, it seemed, to fit the Winslow gymnasium in it with room to spare, it had a fancy carved stone balustrade that overlooked what I presumed to be the actual golf course over which the Country Club presided. It was, of course, dark by now; I could see nothing but the glare of the overhead lights.

While I could not pick one person out from another, Peter and his father led us to a group of men who seemed to be in serious discussion. Two absolutely gorgeous blonde twenty-something women, who could have been twins and should have been supermodels, stood off to the side at a respectful distance. The men turned as we approached, and one who would have been in his mid-thirties stepped forwards.

"Ed," he greeted Peter's father. "Good to see you. How are you?"

"Reasonable, Max, reasonable," Mr Ferguson replied, shaking his hand firmly. As they shook, I noted a silver pin in the lapel of the man called Max. Uncle Max? No way to tell. "How are things with you?"

Max gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Things could always be better." He turned to where Peter and I stood. "Ah, Peter, you've brought along the young lady I've been hearing so much about."

"Yes, sir," Peter replied steadily. "Taylor, this is my uncle, Max Anders. Uncle Max, this is my girlfriend, Taylor Hebert."

<><>

Something was slightly off with the situation, and I thought I had it; despite the pin in his lapel, the other men – sporting gold pins all – were deferring to 'Uncle Max'. He's more important than he pretends. Peter's introducing me to the real power in the room.

"I, uh, I'm pleased to meet you, Mr Anders," I offered, holding out my hand.

He took it, then to my surprise, bowed over it and pressed his lips gently to my knuckles. He was very smooth about it, and the courtliness of it simply took my breath away; wow, so this is who Peter learns his manners from. By the time he released my hand, a few seconds later, I realised that my heart was thumping in my chest. Mr Anders was very good at being charming.

"Enchanted to meet you, Miss Hebert," he told me, and despite the cool night air, I felt a flush pass over my face. I mumbled something in reply, and a few moments later, I felt myself being guided away by Peter.

"Wow," I murmured. "Is that what they call 'presence'?"

"He's like that," he replied, amusement in his tone. "Don't feel too bad; I've seen ladies twenty years your senior come over all flustered when he goes full court press like that."

"For a minute there, I thought I was going to faint," I told him honestly. "I've never had anyone kiss my hand before."

"I've seen them do it," he responded seriously. "I mean, this is pretty well the cream of the cream, right here. There's a lot of stress, people trying desperately to not say or do something wrong."

"So who is 'Uncle Max', anyway?" I asked curiously, as he snagged a glass of water from a passing waiter, and handed it to me. "Oh, thanks. I thought he looked familiar. Or maybe the name was."

"Oh, he's no-one really," he replied casually. "Just the CEO of Medhall Corporation, that's all."

I blinked. "Oh. Right. That Max Anders." I stared at Peter. "And you're his nephew? Is he your dad's brother? Because they don't look alike."

"They wouldn't," he agreed. "Mom was Uncle Max's sister."

"Ah." I sipped at my water. "Okay, I feel better now. Shall we go and meet some more people?"

"Sure." He offered his arm; I strolled along beside him, back into the crowd.

<><>

The first person I met was a handsome young man who shook Peter's hand heartily. "Hey, Pete, how's it going?" He turned to me. "You'd be Taylor, right? The girl that nigger cootch was gettin' all up in the grille of?"

It took me a second to realise what he was talking about. "Ah, yeah, that's me. She was giving me a hard time, before Peter stepped in."

"My man." He slapped palms with Peter, then turned back to me. "And I hear you had the pigs take her away after she shut you in your locker with all that shit?"

"That's the one," I agreed. "Kelly, one of Peter's friends, filmed the whole thing."

"Hah!" He offered me a high-five; I took it. While my palm was still stinging, he put out his hand. "Justin's the name. Good to meet another sister, Taylor. You and Pete, you did good."

"Thanks," I told him. "Good to meet you, too." He didn't crunch my hand too badly, but as we walked away, I had to shake the feeling back into it.

Other faces, and other names, came and went. I smiled, and shook hands, and told people that yes, I was glad to be there. And they all seemed genuinely pleased to meet me; Peter was known to them, and it seemed that the exploit with Sophia had well and truly made the rounds.

And in each and every encounter, Peter introduced me as his girlfriend – the ones where the people didn't already know, apparently – and they accepted me as such. Spoke warmly to me. Treated me as though I belonged.

Of course, there was also the racist speech, but I had heard so much of that at the table with the Empire boys at school, that it hardly even bothered me any more. I carefully didn't use those terms myself – Dad would have had a stroke if one slipped out in his presence – but I didn't worry about others using them. It was a small price to pay for acceptance. A very small price indeed.

<><>

A pudgy teenager was leaning on the balustrade, looking out into the night, as Peter and I approached. His clothing was the same evening-casual sported by Peter and most of the other teens there – of whom I had met a few – but on him it somehow managed to seem ill-fitting and out of place.

"Hey, Theo," Peter greeted him. "How's things?"

Theo never even looked around. "Peter."

"Theo," Peter tried again, "I thought I'd introduce my girlfriend to you."

He looked around then, standing up straight. He was shorter than me, and I guessed that he was about a year younger. Oddly enough, he wore neither gold nor silver pin. "Oh. Hi."

"Taylor, this is my cousin Theo Anders. Theo, this is Taylor Hebert."

"Hi, Theo," I ventured, putting my hand out. "I'm pleased to meet you. Are you related to Max Anders?"

"He's my father," he mumbled, ducking his head. Taking my hand, he gave it a quick shake, his hand dragging limply off of mine.

"Oh, okay," I replied. Congratulating him didn't seem to be in order, as he appeared to be somewhat less than pleased at the relationship. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Theo."

"Yeah, same," he muttered, turning almost rudely back to stare out over the balustrade.

After a moment, Peter took my arm, and we began to move away; then we heard Theo speak from behind us. "Peter."

Stopping, we turned. "Yes, Theo?" asked Peter.

Theo gestured toward the main group. "Julie was looking for you. She sounded pissed. Now I know why."

"Julie?" Peter's lips tightened. "Crap."

"What's up?" I asked him. "Who's Julie?"

"Tell you later." He nodded to Theo. "Thanks. I owe you one."

Theo gave a one-shouldered shrug. "You've always been polite to me. No debt." Turning away once more, he resumed his survey of the outer darkness.

<><>

We were a few yards away before I turned to Peter. "Why isn't Theo wearing a pin? And who's Julie?"

Peter sighed. "Theo is Uncle Max's son, sure. But he doesn't want to be here."

"What, at the Country Club?"

Peter shook his head. "No, in the Empire Eighty-Eight. He's known, but if they give him a pin, he just throws it away."

I stared. "But surely if he doesn't want to be in it -"

"Oh, he's not a member," Peter agreed. "But Uncle Max is a big wheel, and so Theo gets to come along as well. He has ideas of toughening up Theo, so that one day he'll take over."

" … Medhall, you mean?" I asked.

"Yeah, Medhall," Peter confirmed. "But crap, I did not know that Julie would be here."

"So who's Julie?" I asked again. From his manner, I was starting to get an answer that I didn't like.

He sighed again. "My ex-girlfriend."

<><>

"Your ex." My voice was flat. "When were you going to tell me that you had an ex-girlfriend in the Empire?"

"Hey, I didn't know she was going to be here." He raised his hands defensively. "I let enough people know you were coming along, so they should have steered her away."

"Unless she got word too, and came along anyway," I pointed out. "Crazy exes tend to do that sort of thing. Or hadn't you heard?"

"Crap," he muttered again, glumly.

I folded my arms. "So how long since you dumped her?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Last September."

"About the time you got transferred to Winslow," I filled in.

"About then, yeah," he agreed.

"And the reasoning behind the breakup?" I was beginning to tap my toe.

"She was too clingy." He drew a deep breath. "Wanted to come around every night, saw every girl I met as a threat. She'd ring me up to talk about homework and somehow that would turn into a three hour conversation about absolutely nothing at all."

"Sounds like love to me," I observed.

"Yeah, well, it was doing my head in," he muttered. "I couldn't turn around but she'd be standing there. Any time I wanted some alone time, some me time, she wasn't happy unless she was right in the middle of it."

"So, in other words, she loved you more than you loved her," I suggested. I was starting to get an idea of what was going on; Peter liked to be the one who set the pace. If someone pushed harder than he was comfortable with, he pushed away.

"Something like that, maybe," he replied. "Anyway, Father wanted me in Winslow, so I used that as an excuse." A ghost of his customary grin crossed his face. "Because I might be just a guy, but I know that no woman wants to hear 'sorry, but I don't want you around any more'."

"Yeah, well." I gave him a level stare. "You do realise that if I find out that you've put in all this work just to recruit me for the Empire, only to dump me once I've joined, I will find you and use your spleen as fish bait, right?"

"Yeah, well, that's not going to happen," he told me. "I like being with you. You're comfortable to be around."

"Yay," I retorted, deadpan. "I'm comfortable. That sounds just great."

"Trust me, it's a lot better than me wanting to find any excuse to get out of your presence," he assured me. "Which I don't. Even if your dad doesn't really like me, I still enjoyed that dinner with the two of you."

"Relax." I leaned my head against his shoulder. "I'm just kidding. But you know what you've got to do now."

"What's that?"

"Go find Julie. Talk to her. Make things right."

His voice was aghast. "What? No. She'll rip me a whole new one."

I stepped back, looked into his eyes. "Peter. You do 'diplomacy' better than anyone I know of. If anyone can talk a crazy ex down from the ledge, you can. And you need to give her that closure."

"I guess I should at least try."

Gently, I shoved at his shoulder. "There is no try, young padawan. Do, or do not."

"Taylor, if you ever doubt that I love you, don't," he grinned. "What you just said is what I needed to hear." He gathered me in and hugged me; we shared the embrace for a moment, then he was moving away from me.

I watched him go; part of me wanted to go with him, to be at his side as he confronted Julie. But, even as unused to romance as I was, I knew that such a situation would only lead to disaster.

What if he gets back with her, if she manages to rekindle the spark?

I pondered that for a second, then shook my head. No. He just now told me that he loves me. Wow, he loves me. The warm feeling from that was still spreading through my chest. I trust him. I have to. If I don't trust him now, I'll never be able to.

"Taylor, there you are! I've been looking for you forever!"

I looked around, and opened my arms as Helen rushed at me. Wrapping my arms around her, I picked her up and spun her in a circle; she giggled as I put her down. "Again!"

"No, I think once is enough for you." Melissa, following behind at a more sedate pace, nodded to me. "Where's Peter?"

"Gone to take care of something," I told her. "You want to go mingle? I can take care of the munchkin."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." She handed me a hundred dollar note. "Dad gave me this, for her tokens. Feel free to play a few games yourself."

"Oh, uh, thanks."

"No problem." She smiled at me. "I appreciate you doing this."

"Hey, it's been a while since I've played arcade games. Let's go do this, Helen."

"Yay!" Helen grabbed my hand, and started dragging me away. "Let's go!"

<><>

I let her pull me along; we went back inside, then off down a side corridor, to a large room, filled with beeping arcade games of all kinds. Helen zeroed in on one with a couple of bright pink machine pistols holstered on either side, and waited impatiently while I figured out how to use the token dispenser. I fed in the hundred, which spat out eighty dollars in twenties, and twenty one-dollar tokens. Tucking the twenties into my bra, I brought the tokens over to the machine.

Others were in here, but the room was large enough that no-one was nearby; I put the tokens on top of the machine, and fed enough in that we were both able to use our plastic guns to blast the bad guys. Helen had a rather daunting enthusiasm for the job, and rattled away on full rock and roll more often than I was comfortable with; after I got the hang of it, I preferred to use short bursts and single shots to get the job done.

All the same, by the time she ran out of enthusiasm for that machine, Helen was ahead on points, but willing to grant me provisional acceptance as being 'all right' for playing arcade games with.

"Okay, Annie Oakley," I chuckled, "which one do you want to play next?"

"I'm Helen, silly, not Annokey," she chided me. "Let's play this one." She pointed at a racing car game.

"Sure, but we're almost out of tokens. I'll get us some more."

"Okay, but don't be too long," she agreed.

I headed back over to the dispenser, pulling the four twenties from my bra. Tucking three back in, I slid the last one into the machine, to be converted to more tokens. As I was awaiting their arrival in the hopper, someone stepped up behind me.

"Almost done," I said over my shoulder.

"You're Taylor, aren't you?" asked an unfamiliar voice. "Taylor Hebert? Peter's girlfriend?"

Half-turning, I smiled. "Yes, I am. Who are you?"

The punch came out of nowhere; striking me on the nose, it sent my head back to smack into the dispenser. Dazed, I sagged, feeling someone gripping my dress, and sensing the fist being drawn back again.

"The name's Julie. Bitch."


End of Part Five

Part Six

 

[Zege]

Hot damn, that was a hell of a way to end a chapter. Being Taylor is Suffering, even when it isn't.

I'm honestly just waiting for the kicker, the one that drives Taylor over the edge and into Skittermode, even if she doesn't get her bugs.

 

[Firedon]

First off, ouch.
I don't think I really noticed it that much before, but man, Taylor's shifting worldview really came into focus here. Even apart from her rationalizations.
Also, new chapter. Sweet.

 

[john doe]

You already tried being reasonable with Her taylor. The way you should respond now is to escalate , you should be good at it once you get started.

 

[edale]

Damn you work, for making me stop reading the new chapter 1/2 way through until I returned!

"They wouldn't," he agreed. "Mom was Uncle Max's sister."

Click to shrink...

Well shit. Peter is Iron Rain's son.

Also, why do I see a Taylor/Theo friendship happening in the near future?

 

[Xilph]

Also, why do I see a Taylor/Theo friendship happening in the near future?

Click to shrink...

Because anything that makes Taylor less of a Nazi is something you want to see regardless of how likely it is?