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Progenitor

Chapter 1

"What?"

The man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

It wasn't a...
Chapter 1
Location
Texas
Progenitor

Chapter 1
"What?"

The man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.

It wasn't a particularly mean smile either. It was instead the look of a man who was far from pleased with circumstances that had arisen, but was far too polite to frown or gripe about it.

Considering what he'd given me, I wasn't surprised.

"I assure you, ma'am, everything has been checked and verified."

He wore a dark suit and tie with a white shirt underneath. His glasses were dark and squarish, with an overcoat and hat protecting him from the pouring rain. His skin was pale, and hair a dark brown, but there were the faint hints of dark rings at the edges of his glasses. All in all, he resembled FBI agent from the 80's who'd been running some big case with nothing but coffee for days.

I frowned, looking down at the piece of paper grasped in my hands once more, as well as who sent it.

Pompous asshole.

I sighed, letting my hand fall back down to look at him again.

The letter certainly sounded like it was the real thing. The content was definitely how He talked.

Still, I thought, looking down at the precious packet held by his side.

"…Does she know?" I asked.

"…yes." He hid his grimace well. Given what I'd learned, I felt the same way.

"You piece of shit." I cursed under my breath. "Fucking warned you."

Pushing those thoughts away, I focused on what really mattered.

Crouching down, I brought myself down to eye level with the girl at his side. She had curly, frizzy brown hair and freckles splashed across her face. Red, wide eyes stared at me as she clutched the man beside her like he was her lifeline.

She couldn't have been more than seven, and already her life was torn asunder.

"Hey, Amelia, sweetie, do you remember me?" I smiled, trying to will the clear sadness, the fear, from her form.

She paused, biting her finger in a way that'd be adorable if it wasn't so heartbreaking.

"…Mrs. Ann?" She guessed.

Close enough. "Yes!"

I glanced up at the man who brought her to me. He looked down at the two of us with that same forced polite smile,but I could see it. Swimming behind his eyes, a storm of loss and rage.

Looking back down at Amelia, I brought that same smile upon my face, forcing levity into the situation. "Hey, it looks like you're going to be staying with me for a while. Is that ok with you?"

She hesitated, glancing up at the man beside her. He wasn't her father. No, he was just a go-between. A man with many jobs who worked for the one in charge.

Just a man following orders.

I grabbed her attention. "Do you remember Taylor?"

Her eyes lit up, her head snapping back to me.

"Uh…" she said inelegantly. But I saw it, that spark in her again.

"You know, I was going to make brownies with her tomorrow, you can help us if you want."

She opened her mouth, once more glancing at the man she clung to. He gave her what passed for an encouraging smile.

"I-I would very m-much like that, M-Mrs. Ann," she said, straightening her back as she drudged up half-remembered memories of her father and his lessons.

The all too clear pain nearly broke my heart.

I invited her out of the cold rain. "Why don't you come in?"

"O-okay," was all she said, still glancing at the man who brought her here for approval.

Still, with his nod, she took my hand and stepped up to the porch.

I glanced behind me. The man gave me one last smile, this one genuine, before he slipped back into the shadows of the night. In moments, the torrential downpour had consumed his form.

I sighed, realizing I'd probably never see him again.

"Alright, Amelia. Let's get you out of those wet clothes."

But even as I followed behind, those fateful words ran through my mind.

"My dearest Annette…"

"If you are reading this, then I am dead, or otherwise lost to this world. For all intents and purposes, I am gone."

"In my passing, I ask only that you care for my most prized treasure as if she were your own."

"You are one of the precious few I trust to do so."

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"I've outgrown you, Taylor."

"Wha-"

"Get out of here. No one wants a baby like you for a friend."

"But I-"

"Leave."

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"Oh man," an African-American girl chuckled, reclining on the bed. "I can't wait till I take you out there, show you the real world in person."

"Y-yeah," her redheaded counterpart said hesitantly. She swallowed, trying to force courage into herself. "I-it'll be great."

"Damn straight," the first grinned. "One day you might even learn to knock some heads."

The redhead gulped.

"Hey," the black one nudged her, "don't worry about it, Emma. You're a natural." She grinned. "A survivor, just like me."

Emma sat up a little straighter, a measure of confidence filling her. "Yeah."

"A-and now that I got rid of Taylor, I can move on!" she cheered.

Her friend shrugged. "Yeah, I guess she did seem like kind of a wimp."

"Y-yeah!" Emma perked up. "I'll be stronger than her. I'll prove it to you, Sophia!"

"Hey, hey," Sophia said as she held her hands up, "calm down. Take this one step at a time."

She smirked. "I already know what kind of girl you are. You don't need to prove anything yet."

"Yeah…yeah." Emma calmed down. "I just…"

Emma didn't know what it was, but something inside her, ever since that day, burned in her heart. A desire, no, a need to be…more, better, stronger.

To never be weak again.

"I just like trimming the fat," she said as she smiled even as a deeper, older, part of her asked why?

"Well, trimming the fat is important," Sophia considered. "And if she's as weak as you said, it's not like anything will really happen from it."

She snorted. "She'll probably just go back home and cry herself to sleep."

Emma forced a laugh. "Yeah, it's not like her dad's in any shape to take us on."

Even as she tried to reassure herself, that voice deep inside whispered one question, something she desperately tried not to think about.

What about-

"Emma Barnes!"

The two girls shot up, Emma's blood running cold at what sounded uncomfortably like her mother.

"Come down here right now!"

Emma couldn't get to the door fast enough. Sophia, an unsettling feeling in her gut, followed behind. What she found downstairs shook her to the bone.

"Emma, would you care to explain?"

There stood her mother, giving her a distinctly unamused look. Her narrowed eyes held Emma with a piercing gaze. Her mouth set into a firm line. Her arms crossed, her posture stiff, and her whole body hovering over the sobbing mess she once called a friend.

For a moment, Emma allowed herself a foolish kernel of hope. As she and Sophia stepped into the kitchen, she felt she could see a glimmer, the light at the end of the tunnel.

"Oh, I'd love to know too."

Emma froze.

Slowly, she dared turn around, her eyes taking a frightened peek at what her ears already knew.

There she stood leaning against the back wall of the kitchen, standing in the shadows. She wore dark clothes, a long brown skirt that reached her ankles and a white dress shirt under a brown vest. The long sleeves and gloves hid her skin from sight. The only bare flesh on her person was her pale and freckled face. Long frizzy and brown hair sat above equally brown eyes. And yet, for all its blandness, there was a certain wrongness to it.

Her eyes were dead and hollow, and yet they seemed to shine with an unearthly light. Her lips were pulled into what even a blind man couldn't rightly call a smile. Her teeth glimmering a bright white in the dark and her fists clenched tight in her crossed arms. There was an itch in her form, like a spring wound tight just waiting to be let loose.

"Well hello, Emma," she said in what could have been mistaken as a friendly tone, "it feels like it's been too long. I hope you remember me. Aunt Zoe certainly does."

How could she have forgotten about Taylor's older sister?

Emma gulped, "I-I don't…uh…what happened to Taylor?"

"Oh?" her mother challenged, a dangerous look in her eye. "You don't know? Because Amelia here has some questions. And, quite frankly, so do I."

"Yeah," Amy drawled, her lips curled in amusement. "You see, Taylor had quite the interesting tale to tell, and, well, I just had to come here myself."

"I mean, I told myself, 'Oh, Emma couldn't have possibly made Taylor cry.'" Her grin turned ever more sinister, sadism leaking into every inch. "'Not after we promised to keep her from crying again.'"

"I-she's lying," Emma faltered, her words crumbling around her.

The girl she admired behind her, the woman she feared in front of her, and the girl who confided in her by her side. All unraveling from at the gleeful hands of the twisted sister.

"Emma," her mother scowled, "come here."

"Bu-"

"Now."

Her tone brokered no argument.

Trapped, Emma glanced behind her, looking to her protector for aid.

All she found was a wide-eyed girl out of her depth.

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"Mom, I-"

"The next words out of your mouth better be the truth, young lady."

Emma stared wide-eyed at her mother. Never before had she seen such anger in her. Never before had she seen such anger pointed at her.

"I-I-I…" Emma didn't know what to say.

Lie?

It would never pass, not with her mother's knowing gaze boring holes into her soul. Emma felt like she was being put under a microscope, her every movement, every twitch, every breath up for examination.

And I deserve it, her darkest corners thought.

Tell the truth?

Shame.

Burning, crushing, tearing, shame. It would be to admit defeat. To admit weakness.

I'm not weak!

She couldn't be. She had to be strong. She survived, right?

I'm ok, she told herself.

"Is this that new friend of yours?"

No no no!

"Did she put you up to this?"

"No!" Emma shouted. "No, she, I, no no no."

Emma was treading water, the realities of her actions rushing up to meet her.

"Oh?" Her mother stared her down.

She can't take this from me!

"Please, no, I-I'll make it up to you."

"So you admit that you told Taylor off?"

"Yes! Just…" Emma bit her lip, "S-she's…I j-just got tired of hanging around with her. S-she didn't take it well."

"Tired of-?" Her mother recoiled. "Emma, you two have been the closest of friends for as long as I can remember, what on earth brought this on?"

"She's just…a kid, you know?"

"Yes." Her mother looked down flatly at her. "She's a kid, like you."

"Y-yeah, but she's a…a…baby, you know."

"A…baby? What?" She looked incredulous.

Emma, her mind seeing an opportunity, taking confusion over anger, leaped.

"Yeah, she's always crying and babbling and whining-"

"Emma!" Her mother cut her off sharply.

Emma winced, her psyche cracking from the stress of failure.

"Her mother died."

"Y-yeah, but-"

"Are you trying to say you wouldn't cry if I died?" her mother challenged. "Because, well, 'that's what babies do', or have I gotten something wrong?"

What could she say?

"God, I raised you to be better than this."

Her world was crumbling around her.

"You've been so different since that day."

No, I survived!

"You've been so…"

I'm a predator!

"So…"

I'm strong!

"…Fragile…"

Emma's world shattered.


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Amelia

"Hey dad!"

I closed the door behind Taylor after she walked through. She looked tired. Hardly surprising considering the day she'd had.

"You home?" I called out.

And if I'm lucky…

"Yeah…" he called back, sounding somewhat distracted. Straining my nose, I could sense the faint waft of tomatoes and meat. "Just setting up dinner."

Yes! I nearly pumped a fist in victory.

A faint "oh," escaped her lips as Taylor shot up like a squirrel.

"Hungry?"

She blushed, shrinking back down again.

I was happy for her. Sure, dad's lasagna couldn't really compare to mom's, but considering the day Taylor'd had she'd need the comfort food.

When we finally sat down on the couch in front of the coffee table, arrayed around the TV, dad was still fixing stuff in the kitchen.

I glanced at my sister. "You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah," she sniffled, rubbing her runny nose on her too-long sleeves. "I just…"

She trailed off, either unable or unwilling to think of the words.

"You want to know why?" I offered.

"Yeah." She turned those big watery green eyes to me. "W-why'd she do it?"

I sighed. I'd heard everything that Emma and her mom were saying, but Emma didn't actually tell Aunt Zoe the whole story. Knowing Aunt Zoe she'd probably call us, or hell, come up to our door with an apology dessert and explain the whole story. She was good like that.

As for what I'd picked up on…

"It just…" I blew a hot breath out of my mouth, trying to put the words in an order that didn't upset Taylor even more. "She was just…in a bad place, and Sophia, the other girl, was there to kind of…pick up the pieces."

At her trembling lip, I worried I'd said the wrong thing. "Pick up the pieces? B-but that's what friends are supposed to do!."

She looked down, her hands shaking in her lap. "I-I left her. I was the bad friend. I wasn't there when she needed me."

Oh, fuck fuck fuck.

"No, no!" I pulled her into a hug. "Look, you were at summer camp-"

"What kind of terrible person abandons their friend for summer camp?"

"You just wanted something else. And you had fun, right? Emma would understand."

"But she didn't. And now she's hurting because I left her."

Oh god, now she's spiraling! I start to panic.

To be honest, I kind of want to deck Emma in the face, knock out a few teeth, and leave her in the street. If she was willing to jump into throwing away my sister's friendship, her sisterhood over a few scratches and a new girl, then she didn't deserve Taylor.

But that's not necessarily a healthy outlook or a response any of my parents would approve of, so I instead focused on helping Taylor.

Because frankly, she needs it.

I'm glad I nipped it in the bud now. Sure, Taylor will probably cry about it for a week or two, feel like complete garbage, but, she'll bounce back. Just like when mom died. It'll be rough, it'll be hard, but she'll recover, stronger than ever. She always does. I just have to keep her from feeling all the pain she doesn't deserve in the meantime.

"Hey," I say as I grab her sobbing face and pinch her cheeks, "you're too cute to worry about this."

"Bu-"

"But nothing. I'm your big sister, which means I know more than you, right?"

"…uh?"

"Right?"

"…yeah?"

"So, if I said you didn't do anything wrong, that means you didn't do anything wrong."

"But I left her!"

"Are you saying I'm wrong?"

"…no…"

"Good," I pull her head into my bosom, pressing her ear up against your heart. "Do you hear that?"

Ba-thump

Ba-thump


"Yeah?"

"This heart beats for you."

She squirms in my grip so you turn her so I can look her in the eye while she listens. "Everything I do is to ensure my precious little sister's happiness."

"So please don't cry," I plead as I wipe away her tears. "Smile. Smile and show us that little sun mom made."

Cheesy as it is, it works. From out of the dark clouds of Taylor's despair shines the bright light of her earnest, if watery, smile.

"He-…ey?"

I look up to see dad carrying one large pan of lasagna, plates, and utensils stacked on top. In turn, he's looking down at us with a questioning look on his face.

"Oh!" Taylor sits up, eyeing the food hungrily.

"Here you go," he says slowly, eyeing my sister carefully as he places it on the table.

Fortunately for the two of us, she's got eyes only for the food. While she's busy, I give dad the universal silent signal for "Don't ask now, tell you later." Which is to say, I give him a grimace of a smile while making a chopping motion across my neck.

He gives me a concerned look for a moment, before returning the grimace of a smile with a thumbs up. "I'll, uh, get drinks…"

Soon, Taylor's worries are forgotten as we enjoyed lasagna, soda, and watching some Sci-Fi about space marines fighting monsters together.

Once dinner and the crisis is over, Taylor is so emotionally exhausted she just shuffles off to bed without a word beyond, "G'night."

Once she's gone, dad gives me a sharp look. It's all he needs.

"Emma basically told Taylor to go fuck herself today," I explain in unflattering terms. Already, I can feel my blood churning.

Dad doesn't even blink at the profanity. "She what?" he says in a dangerously flat voice.

"I already brought it up with Aunt Zoe, who was pissed when she grilled Emma." I let out another hot breath and force myself not to snarl.

"I don't know what happened to Emma but…it kinda looks like she saw something that made her just snap, something her mom didn't know about. Aunt Zoe kept referring to 'that day'." I shrug, struggling to keep my casual air when every muscle in my body is writhing beneath the skin. "Whatever it was, it rocked Emma to the core."

"But, there was another girl there. I think her name was...Sophie," I said, recalling the unpleasant memories of our little exchange. My face nearly flashed into a sneer, but I quickly reined it in. "She might have had a hand in twisting Emma's mindset. She certainly seemed...off."

"Off?" Dad raises a lone brow that asks for more. "I'd rather you not go after someone for seeming 'off.'"

"I'm not going that far." I pout, then pause, reconsidering it.

"Ok," I admit, "I guess I kinda want to break her nose."

"But that's not the point." I shake my head. "I had a little chat with her. She didn't say much. She didn't exactly seem too happy about Taylor and I showing up to, uh, ruin her 'thing' with Emma."

"Her 'thing', is it?" he says, a second brow joining the first. "How much do I want to know about this so-called 'thing'?"

I wave my hand through the air to dismiss his idea. "Not like that. At least, I don't think so. More like Sophie was like a…a…" I reached for the words.

"Sports friend," I finally said, "Really into athletics and stuff. And Taylor was like the nerd friend to her, I guess. I think Sophie saw Taylor as the bookworm crybaby and convinced Emma much the same."

"I'm surprised you're so calm about it," he comments

I chuckle humorlessly. "Come on, dad. You know me better than that."

My ribs flex like the limbs of a bow inside me. An errant twitch I let escape shows the tension in my muscles. Dad grimaces at the sight and nods.

"Hmm," Dad grumbles, "I guess there's not much we can do about it now."

"Nope," I say, my expression riding the edge between a pleasant smile and merely barred teeth.

He sighs, raking a hand through his thinning salt-and-pepper hair. "I guess we can only wait till we learn more."

"Yup."

He shoots me a look, the ghost of a smile on his face giving him away.

"Right, well, it's been a stressful night for all of us. I'm heading to bed."

I smile brightly at him, previous worries pushed deep below. "Night dad!"

He snorts. "G'night Amelia," he replies as he ruffles my hair.

I turn to watch his inelegant and tired stride up the stairs, each foot thumping against the wood. The moment I hear his door close, I dash up them myself.

I don't really worry about dad hearing me, he knows what I'm doing. I just waited for him mostly out of courtesy.

Taylor, on the other hand…

I stop before the door to the attic, straining my ears beyond all limits. I search through the sea of sounds of the city, listening to the faint whispers right around me. I hear the shuffling of dad as he fiddles with the blanket. I hear the rustling of the trees outside. I hear birds, fluttering through the trees.

And I hear Taylor, breath steady, heart calm, as she lays in bed.

The coast it clear.

I slip into the attic, careful not to make a noise. I lock the door behind me, making sure that this time is mine. Turning around, I face the array of stuff shoved into the attic. A cryptic mess of order and chaos. Everything in its place and every place everywhere. If I hadn't been the one who organized it, I would have been lost. Since I am the one who organized it, I know exactly where to turn. With measured steps that leave not a creak, I stride right up to a certain chest. A large green box with golden trim, it sits innocuously with a large set of three locks.

It takes but a moment to unlock, the keys and codes coming to the mind and hand with practiced ease.

I lifted the lid, the oiled hinges not even making a whisper, and gaze at the precious contents. Reaching within with my arms outstretched, and with delicate reverence, I extract a precious piece.

Two golden eyes stare back at me. A head of mottled gray and brown. A twisted facsimile of a beetle's carapace made into a human head, monstrous mandibles made into a sinister smile. A ring of spikes in an insectile imitation of a crown.

For all its dark appearance and terrifying visage, there is a certain nobility in this helmet. A certain…air of nostalgia, of care with this hand-crafted item.

To some, it might inspire fear or awe.

To me, it brings back bittersweet memories.

"Hey, mom."

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A/n: This is my first foray into the Worm fandom, at least in terms of making a fanfic.

I've been tweaking this off and on since around abouts Janurary, and I'm only just now posting it. For which I'd like to thank my editors Trav, Zee, and Luna for their aid, though I can't be bothered to remember their SV account names.

In case you haven't noticed, there are some significant AU elements. Beyond Annette and Marquis themselves, however, I don't intend for too many other root differences. They are the Nails in this For Want of a Nail story. Other butterflies come from them, but it's mostly a result of Annette being AU, and Marquis being slightly AU.

If you have a problem with that, too bad.

I have a bit of a backlog for this story, so to keep it up I'll be posting once a week, and attempting to keep that schedule up for however long.

Anyways, let's see how this bundle of mistakes goes. Here's hoping I didn't fumbled something basic.
 
Hunh. Well the setup is interesting enough. You did have a few cases where you accidentally switched to second tense but that's a real common mistake and the writing was pretty good otherwise. The character dialogue doesn't come across as feeling particularly stiff or unrealistic, and amy gives off just the right amount of 'quite possibly not all that right in the head' I would expect given her backstory.

I'll watch this.

After seeing what you did with Hunger I expect this should be fun
 
Violently protective/ vindictive Amelia is something to treasure and a sight to behold. Looking forward to seeing what can happen.
 
Huh.

The ending makes me wonder whether Annette ended up with 'Queen Administrator' originally in this and was some kind of Skitter-Esque cape, themed around Bug-Royalty, who probably ran in the same circles as Marquis but ended up retiring after having Taylor. Sounds like she advised him to retire as well, what with Amelia, but he didn't do so. I wonder if he actually died in an attack this time, or if he is Birdcaged.

Overall it's very interesting so far. I'm looking forward to seeing you explore what kind of person an Amelia who was raised with actual love, support, and care would turn out to be.
 
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I am grinning in anticipatory glee right now. You have a great setup with this chapter and I can't wait to see where it goes.
 
Seems interesting. So, Emma is recoverable, Sophie is fucked, and Zoe is on top of things. Good to hear.

Danny's reaction doesn't make as much sense, unless he has heavily involved himself in the social growth of young girls, more than most dads, in which case, cool. Because boys tell each other to go fuck themselves all the time.
 
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They are the Nails in this For Want of a Nail story.

So Amy won't be around to heal Victoria if she gets herself shot...

Looks like Amelia has her powers already, not sure if they're her canon powers or not. The not baring any skin sounds a lot like striker powers, but some of the stuff from her viewpoint makes it sound like she has more control over her own body. Maybe a lot of scarring? Annette was either a very flamboyant henchman or had powers (potentially QA?), so Taylor will also be a second gen cape if she ever triggers.

Nice to see Amelia with foster parents she can treat as actual parents rather than some people whose house she lives in.
 
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Danny's reaction doesn't make as much sense, unless he has heavily involved himself in the social growth of young girls, more than most dads, in which case, cool. Because boys tell each other to go fuck themselves all the time.

I mean... I can't speak for anyone else, but in my personal experiences none of mine, nor my friend's, parents would ever tolerate one of us telling the other to go fuck themselves, and we're all guys. Hell, one time when I was a kid my best friend's dad got mad at me because he thought I was blowing my friend, his son, off by not returning his calls. It was really just that they always called way before I was up, and this was before cell phones were really a thing, but you get the idea.

In my experience, parents, mom or dad, are never ok with so-called friends, especially best friends, telling each other to fuck off.

It's one thing if it's a joke, or just typical ribbing, but that is very very clearly not the case here.

You did have a few cases where you accidentally switched to second tense but that's a real common mistake and the writing was pretty good otherwise.

God-fucking-dammit. I knew I kept slipping into 2nd person while writing this chapter since I was writing a quest too, but I wrote this chapter in January. I've gone over this thing at least 4 dozen times trying to comb out all the errors, and working with 3 other betas who've gone over it at least a half dozen each.

And there are apparently still 2nd person fuck ups.

ugh

Fuck me, this stuff is hard.
 
Could just be an Australian thing. We also call each other cunts without anyone getting upset.

Here, your best mates are the ones who insult you the most.
 
So is Annette proper dead or birdcaged if she was a cape and people were just told she died because Danny didn't want Taylor/Amelia/others to know?
 
Hmm.. Without Amy around, Vicky is not gonna be able to hide her rough treatment of villains (is that canon or am I remembering wrong?).
I wouldn't be surprised if in this AU Vicky was forced in the Wards.
 
Hmm.. Without Amy around, Vicky is not gonna be able to hide her rough treatment of villains (is that canon or am I remembering wrong?).
I wouldn't be surprised if in this AU Vicky was forced in the Wards.
More likely that without Amy around she get caught the first time, which is likely to not be too overboard, as she hasn't learned that her sister can fix anyone she breaks, and she get some mandatory control lessons before she go hero again, she's not a solo hero, so as long as she don't outright cripple or kill someone, the Protectorate isn't likely to forcibly recruit her, as that's making problems with New Wave, they are just going to get Vicky some mandatory training, and have New Wave owe them a favor.
 
Vicky... it really depends on how the shooting incident that was Canon!Amy's trigger event goes. If it's been butterflied away by all this? Well and good. If not? Vicky's probably dead.

As for Sophia, well, it's a year or so down the road, but I don't see Alan Barnes being willing to play character witness for her and get her a probationary Wards spot.
 
Deleted Scenes: Sophia (Non-canon)
Deleted Scenes: Sophia
Non-Canon​

A/n:
Given the surprisingly positive response I've gotten from Progenitor, I've decided to throw this out here. Also because I'm a sucker for attention.

It's a deleted scene from one of the earliest drafts of the 1st chapter. I deleted it because it's bad and as such not canon. Though it was fun, at the time, to write about the first interaction between Sophia and Amelia.

Be warned, it's not great.


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In the other room, three people looked on at the scene.

Sophia couldn't help but feel a bit uncomfortable in her friend's house. Just a few feet away Zoe Barnes grilled Emma for every rotten thing she'd done to Taylor. Things she herself had encouraged.

She may have thought of herself as a predator, but even a panther can feel…unwelcome.

"Taylor," The mother eventually spoke up, "Could you come here?"

Taylor glanced in askance at her older sister. The freckled brunette just sent her off with a smile and a nod.

And hesitantly, the thin wisp of a girl walked into the dining room, leaving Sophia alone with her thoughts, and the older sister.

It was hard for Sophia to get a good idea of how much older she was. She was roughly their age, she could tell that much, maybe a year or two older.

She also didn't quite look like Taylor. She looked related to Taylor in the kind of TV sense, where they're just the same race and have vaguely the same features, nothing that stood out as blatantly wrong, but nothing that really made them look like blood.

"Are you actually her sister?" Sophia eventually asked.

At her words, the unnamed girl eventually slid her eyes towards Sophia. "Hmm?" She said, a light, questioning smile upon her face.

"I-" Sophia faltered under those eyes, but she buried those gut feelings, dismissing it as the feelings of mere prey. "Are you actually related to her?"

"Why do you ask?"

Sophia didn't know whether to snort or scowl.

"I mean, you only kind of look related…"

"And?" The girl grinned. She'd already seen something in Sophia's posture.

At that moment, she felt the distinct feeling that she was being led into the spider's den.

She gulped, "Yeah, and you're so different too."

"She's built like a twig, and you're…"

The girl in front of her was…more solid. Hardly fat, though perhaps a bit flabby under her layers, but she definitely had more substance than Taylor. Maybe even packing some muscle. She was taller than Taylor too, which made her tower above the rest of them. And unlike her sister, she never seemed to shrink in on herself, instead using her height to great effect.

"You're also…you know…"

"Know what?" The girl said, challenging her to answer.

Every word, every look, that came from Amelia felt like a dare, a question, beckoning Sophia to answer.

"You're a fighter, a predator." Sophia admitted, finally taking the plunge. "Like me. Taylor just kind of looks like, you know, a whimp."

She let out a dark chuckle, "So you think you're a predator, huh?"

"Yeah," Sophia scowled, not liking the making tone of her voice. "I take the fight to them, I punch back. Not like some scared little prey who just lets themselves get beat."

"You know," She smiled, "In my experience, there are two kinds of animals strike out against everything that comes near them."

"Some are scared creatures, backed up against the wall in a world they don't understand. They attack anything and everything, desperate to feel safe, to feel powerful. And the others are rabid beasts that need to be put down."

"I wonder which one you are."

Sophia looked into those dead black eyes and the shark's grin spread across Amelia's face. She saw a predator smiling as they watched prey walk across that invisible line, right into their den. Sophia looked into the void, and she shivered.

"W-whatever," She tried to put up a strong front, "I know w-what I am."

"And no one can tell me different," She snarled.

"I don't need to tell you anything," Amelia smirked, "I know one day you're going to find out what manner of beast you are."

"I'll show you exactly what kind beast I am," Sophia snarled.

Amelia let out a harsh bark of laughter.

And then killed all emotion on her face.

"You need to get over yourself" her tone as cold as the deepest darkest sea, her eyes black pits.

All the blood drained from the girl's face, her skin but a frosted sheet of pitiless judgment.

Were they so dark a moment ago? Sophia questions,

And in a flash, it was gone. The peek behind the curtain had ended, leaving Sophia questioning if she'd even seen anything at all.

"Now," Amelia smiled, warmth curling back into her face, "I need to go give my adorable little sister another hug."

And without another word, she brushed past the girl who thought oh-so-much of herself.

For a moment, Sophia felt like a shark had just brushed past her, leaving her be only because it thought she wasn't worth her time.

For a moment, Sophia was grateful.

A/n:
Oof

So now I'm sure you can see why I deleted it. It's pretty bad for a litany of reasons, and I really only wrote as that kind of initial, "Fuck you bully Sophia!", kinda reaction. But after writing it and looking it over I decided it would be for the better if it was never part of the story. I might post other deleted scenes like this, and there's even an entire other plotline with the same base premise that never happened. I also didn't bother giving it nice touching up edits, so it's probably pretty gnarly to look at.

Anyways, again, I'll be posting the next proper chapter around abouts next Monday.

 
He might. She DID save his daughter from whatever those ABB punks were gonna do to her, after all.

To settle the debate for those who don't care about spoilers:
She'll be getting positive help and support from a group that isn't the PRT, and be fairly relevant sometime soonish. And not as an antagonist. One of the major reasons I deleted the above section.
 
Not long enough to really get into the mind of this Amy yet, but looks interesting. Watched, will come back when there's more :D
 
So now I'm sure you can see why I deleted it. It's pretty bad for a litany of reasons, and I really only wrote as that kind of initial, "Fuck you bully Sophia!", kinda reaction. But after writing it and looking it over I decided it would be for the better if it was never part of the story.
Good judgment on that.
 
To some, it might inspire fear or awe.

To me, it brings back bittersweet memories.

"Hey, mom."
Oh, this is going to be good. I like these AU elements. It almost feels like, based on the first description of her, Amy's already triggered, potentially off Annette's death or something to do with protecting Taylor.
 
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