Security! (a Worm SI story)

[Ack]

Scraped from here.

Waking up and finding oneself within the Worm narrative can be quite the shock ...

Disclaimers:
1) This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it.
2) I will follow canon as closely as I can. If I find something that canon does not cover, I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations.
3) I welcome criticism of my works, but if you tell me that something is wrong, I also expect an explanation of what is wrong, and a suggestion of how to fix it. Note that I do not promise to follow any given suggestion.


Index
1 - Introduction
2 - First Interaction
3 - Second Interaction
4 - Third Interaction
5 - Fourth Interaction
6 - Fifth Interaction
7 - Calm Before the Storm
8 - Fight!
9 - Heroes and Villains
10 - (Tell Me Why) I Don't Like Mondays
11 - Interactions Great and Small
12 - Revelations
13 - Crises
14 - Consequences
15 - Confrontations
16 - Resolutions
17 - Assorted Interludes
18 - More Interludes
19 - Sixth Interaction - Panacea
20 - Taylor
21 - Developments
22 - Trolling for Fun and Profit
23 - Assault
24 - Fallout
25 - Points of View
26 - The Gathering Storm
27 - Bomb Threat
28 - Countdown
29 - Deadline
30 - The Big Reveal
31 - Yet More Interludes
32 - Viewpoints - First Person Singular
33 - Saturday Afternoon Interludes
34 - Moving On
35 - Opening Shots
36 - Reactions
37 - Adding to the Mix
38 - Reaping the Whirlwind
39 - Arranging Matters
40 - Conflict Resolution
41 - Winding Down
42 - The Meaning of Life
43 - Everything Changes
44 - Paying the Piper
45 - Undersiders!
46 - Recruitment Drive
47 - Unwelcome Revelations
48 - Buildup
49 - Trouble in Paradise
50 - Tying Up Loose Ends
51 - Zion
Epilogue One: Earth Bet
Epilogue One (continued)
Epilogue One (Conclusion + Epilogue Two)


Omake: Too Much Information (now a dream sequence)

Omake: Apocalyptus Interruptus (v1dya)

Omake: God-Queen-Empress Weaver

Omake: Victory Assured ( @GiftOfLove )

Omake: Making New Friends

Omake: Dinner Companions

Omake: PHO Boards (re: Chapter 36) (@Rokoran)

Update: Taking Stock (Re: Chapter 36) ( @00Zy99 )

Omake: Helping the Shards (re: Chapter 37) ( @Nicholai )

Omake: Imp Imp'd

Update: Taking Stock (Re: Chapter 40) ( @00Zy99 )

Update: Taking Stock (Re: Chapter 42) ( @00Zy99 )

Update: Taking Stock (Re: Chapter 47) ( @00Zy99 )

Omake: Michael Allen in Tattletopia ( @Dave )

Update Taking Stock (Re: Chapter 54) ( @00Zy99 )

 

[Ack]

Security!

An SI Worm fanfic

Introduction

I lounged on the couch, my laptop in front of me. I used a tab to flick open the Worm Resources Thread, to double-check a data point, then I went back to planning the new fic. It was going to be a fix fic, of course; I enjoyed writing those most of all.

My first Worm fic had used an OC to handle most of the alterations to canon; since then, with my other fics, I had gone with changes in continuity to alter matters. A thread on SI characters caught my eye, and I thought about it. Someone based on me; fat, forty-plus ... what could someone like me hope to accomplish in the Wormverse?

I thought of one of my more recent fics, where the main character had been slung back in time, losing her powers in the process, but in possession of a great deal of 'future' knowledge. Knowledge, properly applied, is power.

Perhaps one of the staff at Winslow? Taylor could definitely use a friend there. Take some of the heat off of her, make the bullies leave her alone.

I considered making over one of the canon characters; Gladly, maybe, or Quinlan. But both of those showed up in plot too much to be easily replaced.

A substitute teacher, maybe? I could do that.

But then, a conversation with a friend online put me on the right track.

If I wrote my self-insert character as having the same occupation as myself - that is, security guard - he would have a ready-made excuse to be at Winslow. The last detail fell into place.

I opened a new Word file and started typing. First, the title of the fic. And then the opening paragraphs.

=///=
​

Principal Blackwell read the email again and frowned.

Ms Blackwell:
Per the recent Taylor Hebert locker incident, a security guard will be stationed at Winslow High during the hours of ...

Absently, she sent an acknowledgement, letting her employers know that she'd read their damn stupid email. She wanted to mail them back, to tell them that she didn't need some flat-footed rent-a-cop roaming the hallways of her school, but she knew it would do no good.

Idly, she recalled a joke. "Teachers would be able to get a lot more done, if it wasn't for all the students.". Running Winslow High was a lot like that; the school would run rather more smoothly if it wasn't for all those square-peg students, stubbornly refusing to fit into the round holes that had been neatly set aside for them.

Students like Taylor Hebert; if she had just had the decency to fit in like everyone else, then the whole locker incident would never have happened. Winslow would never have made the papers, and she would not have had to kowtow to an enraged Danny Hebert. Paying for his daughter's hospital bills had put quite a dent in the school's budget for the year; another factor that militated against getting in a security guard ...

=///=
​

I stopped and re-read what I had typed, and then frowned; Blackwell was coming across as just a little too heartless and calculating. If I let the story continue in this vein, she would end up punishing Taylor for the sheer audacity of complaining about being bullied. I decided to revise it, rein it in a little.

Later. It was late; I was getting tired. Leaning back, I let my eyelids drift shut for just a moment.

This happened on occasion. Not quite sleepy enough to drift off, not quite awake enough to stay alert. I would ease back and forth between sleep and wakening states, and occasionally type a few sentences into the story. Sometimes I would even doze for a little bit and dream that I'd typed far more than I really had. Then I would be faced with trying to remember how the story had gone in my dream, and try to recreate it.

Opening my eyes again, I started creating the character that I was going to insert into the story. Michael Allen. Veteran security officer. I paused, pondering. Licensed for concealed carry?

On balance, I didn't like the idea, but then, this was America and a world where conflict was somewhat more likely than the when/where that I lived in. Yeah, okay. Concealed carry.

A thought struck me, and I did a bit of quick research. The original author had never specified precisely where Brockton Bay was, but there was a Brockton in Massachusetts, and so I used that state as a test case. And I came up against a hard block; Massachusetts CCW laws had a definitive ban against concealed firearms inside school grounds. So, he has a concealed carry permit, but he doesn't carry inside Winslow. I can work with that.

I typed a few more lines, setting the story up, then let my eyelids drift closed again. Maybe I should shut this down for the evening and go to bed ...

=///=
​

I opened my eyes again, to the rasping buzz of my alarm clock.

What the hell? I didn't set my alarm clock. What the hell time is it, anyway?

I forced my eyes open, stared at the bright green numbers on the face of the alarm clock.

It took me a few moments to register what I was looking at.

One: it was five thirty in the morning. I do not get up at five thirty in the morning. This is a physical impossibility.

Two: My alarm clock has red numbers, not green. This was not my alarm clock.

Three: Not my bedroom. I do not keep sports posters on my bedroom wall. Plus, the furniture was all wrong.

I frowned, trying to make sense of it all. Did I go out? Crash at someone else's place?

I shook my head. I couldn't see it. I only go out on Mondays and Tuesdays, and then only to friends' places. And I'm always capable of driving back afterward.

Sitting up in bed, I stared at the sports poster. And it began to dawn on me that it wasn't a sports poster. I turned on the bedside light and directed the beam at the poster.

That was people in costume, not in sports gear. And as I began to register details, verbal descriptions began to click into place.

Tall woman, black hair, black and grey costume, ruined tower on front of costume, long cape.

Armoured man, blue and silver, visor covering eyes, carrying a polearm.

Young woman, blue bodysuit with silver circuitry pattern.

I began to shake; I stood up, the alarm clock still blaring, forgotten. Leaning closer, I stared at the poster. Was this some fan thing? People dressed up in costumes from the story? Or a CGI thing? Had someone made a movie about this and no-one told me?

If it was CGI, then it was the best I'd ever seen. Absolutely photo-realistic. And if it was people in costumes, they wore them well. Like they were born to it.

I pointed at the characters and spoke out loud, as if I could dispel the haze over my thoughts that way.

"Armsmaster, Alexandria, Legend, Battery ... that must be Assault ... Eidolon? Huh. That's probably Velocity then ..." At the end of the row, a dark-skinned woman bearing a heavily modified assault rifle, stars-and-stripes scarf across her face. "Definitely Miss Militia."

I sat down on the bed again, the wind going out of me.

"What the fuck," I said out loud, "is going on?"

=///=
​

One hot shower later, it was still refusing to make sense to me. Pulling on a bathrobe and slippers – it was cold! – I wandered out into a living room, still half-expecting to see the back end of a movie set, or people leaping out to spring the most elaborate April Fools prank I had ever seen.

Nothing of the sort happened. It was an ordinary living room. Except that, looking at it carefully, it was a living room that I would live in. Things were where I would put them. I could believe that I lived here.

Except that I had never seen this place before in my life.

=///=
​

Moments later, as I ate cereal at the small table, I reassessed that view. I had never seen this place before ... but I knew where everything was. Because it was where I would put it.

The cereal was a brand I had never seen before, but it was close enough to what I usually ate to not give me problems. I dumped the bowl in the sink, rinsed it, and looked around.

On the fridge was a schedule sheet. A roster. A name.

Michael Allen.

And under it, the location for work.

Winslow High School.

I sat down again.

"No. No fucking way."

I'd dreamed typing up stories before. But I'd never dreamed my way into the story.

First time for everything, I guess.

Then I looked at the start time. Today. Seven thirty.

"Okay," I said out loud. "Time to shape up or ship out. Do I treat this as a dream, and see how weird it can get, or do I act like I'm in the story, and do my best to help Taylor out?"

Put that way, I didn't really have a choice. There were people in Worm that I really thought got a bad deal out of things. Taylor was first in line, of course, but there were others. And if I could help them, even in a dream, that would make for an awesome story to write once I woke up.

Shape up it is, then.

=///=
​

Ten minutes later, I was uniforming up. There was far more paraphernalia than I was used to; pepper spray, stun gun, cuffs ... Christ, was I going into a war zone, or a high school?

Then I remembered Winslow from the story. Oh, right. Yeah.

The scariest bit was putting on the stab vest. People get shanked at Winslow.

Fucking awesome.

I made damn sure that stab vest was properly secured.

=///=
​

The other thing on the fridge was a letter. It informed me that I was starting at Winslow on April the eighth, of the year two thousand and eleven.

Which, my watch assured me, was today.

April eight. April eight. That date nagged at me. It was significant, somehow.

I'd figure it out later. I left the apartment.

=///=
​

As I rode the early-morning bus through Brockton Bay, I had to admire the sheer attention to detail that my subconscious was capable of. I recognised landmarks I'd read about within the story, but only by context; the buildings looked nothing like I'd envisaged them, nor even like the cover photo on the story.

It had taken me a bit to figure out the bus lines, but I worked it out eventually. I found Winslow on the map, and located the right bus line. It looked like I was on time for a seven thirty start.

I hated being late for work, even in a dream.

As I settled back into my seat, I pondered the meaning of the date. April eight. It meant something, I was sure ... but what? There was something that I was missing.

I was interrupted in my reverie by a collective gasp from the others in the bus. Looking up, I saw a slender white-clad feminine form whip by; I had just enough time to register blonde hair and a fluttering skirt before she was gone.

This dream involved superheroes. Somehow I had temporarily forgotten that.

"Was that Glory Girl?" I asked the guy next to me.

"Sure was," he confirmed, then looked at me oddly. "You're acting like you've never seen her before."

"New in town," I said hastily. "Seeing her on the news is different to seeing her for real."

"I guess," he agreed, then he offered his hand. "Gerry's the name. What brings you to the 'Bay?"

I shook it. He had calloused hands and a strong grip. "Michael. Work.". Using two fingers, I tapped the patch on the sleeve of my uniform. "Babysitting kids at a high school.". With a roll of my eyes, I added, "Joy."

He chuckled and slapped me on the shoulder. "Good luck. Tase the little bastards if they give you any trouble."

I grinned at him. "Two spare batteries. I came prepared."

He laughed out loud.

"So what do you do?" I asked, the ice now broken. It was in my best interests to find out as much as possible about Brockton Bay, or rather, the version of it that my dream was creating. Somewhere along the line, I realised, I had made the decision to treat everything as if it were real.

"Dock worker," he replied, and with his build I could believe it. "When there's work, of course."

"A bit slack at the moment, huh?" I asked, sympathy in my tone.

"Only for the last bloody ten years," he said morosely, and I heard the faintest trace of an Irish accent. "I mean, Hebert does his best, but when there's no work, there's no bloody work."

I nodded. "And that's God's honest truth," I agreed. That would be Danny Hebert. Taylor's dad.

God, it's weird to hear his name in casual conversation. Like he's a real person.

"Man might as well get bloody work with a supervillain," Gerry groused. "At least they're hiring."

I raised an eyebrow. "Supervillains, huh?" I asked. "That pay well?"

He shrugged. "So I hear."

"Yeah," I replied. "But what's the dental plan like?". I mimed punching myself in the jaw.

He nodded ruefully. "Yeah, you got a point there," he agreed. "I might keep looking for legitimate work for a bit longer."

I looked up as the bus pulled to a stop. "Whoops, this is my stop," I said. "Good luck with finding work, Gerry. And hold out for that dental plan."

He got up to let me out into the aisle. "I'll do that, Mike. And watch your back with those rugrats."

I got off the bus and watched it drive away, then turned to walk into Winslow High School.

=///=
​

As I walked into the parking lot out front of the school, a woman about my age, skinny and with dirty blonde hair, came to meet me. Mentally I flicked through my file of descriptions of Winslow staff. It wasn't an exhaustive list; two women and two men had actually been described in the story. This woman fitted the basic description of the school principal.

"Ms Blackwell?" I asked as she approached me.

She nodded curtly. "You're Allen. The security guard."

"That's me," I agreed. I extended my hand, and after a moment, she shook it.

She looked me over critically. "I always thought you security guards came with equipment belts."

I nodded. "I arrived on the bus. I thought it would be better to carry my gear in my bag." I indicated the backpack I had over my shoulder. "Causes less problems that way."

"But you will be carrying it around the school," she observed.

"Yes, ma'am, I will," I agreed.

"Do you have a gun?" she asked. "Because we don't allow those in the school."

I shook my head. "I'm licensed to carry, of course, but I do know about that. So I didn't bring it."

"What do you have to defend yourself with then?" she asked sharply. She was definitely being antagonistic; I began to wonder if it had been such a good idea to write her like that. And then I wondered if she was like that because I had written her that way, or because that was the way I read her personality from the story.

"Pepper spray, a stun gun and a baton," I answered, pulling my belt out of the bag and buckling it on. "Also, cuffs, in case someone needs to be restrained for the police."

"You've been trained in the responsible use of all these?" she asked sharply.

"I have all the required licences," I responded. I hoped I did; it felt like the right answer.

"I hope so, for your sake," she said darkly. "If the school gets sued by anyone because of the way you treated their children, we will be passing the costs on to you."

And if that's not a way of saying "keep out of the way and don't cause waves", I don't know what is, I thought.

"I prefer to talk before taking physical action, ma'am," I said blandly. "I also carry a voice recorder. So if there's any dispute about what was said when, it can be settled on the spot."

She gave me a hard stare, but did not seem to be able to think of any more objections. "Hmm," she said. "Well, I'll get you set up. Most of the faculty should be in by now."

=///=
​

"Ladies and gentlemen," announced Principal Blackwell. "I would like you to meet our new security guard, Mr Allen." She introduced the faculty, and I did my best to remember the names. I shook hands where offered, nodded and smiled where not.

Quinlan I picked out by eye, Gladly and Mrs Knott I did not. Once again, their faces were at odds with what I had envisaged. Gladly grinned broadly as he shook my hand, trying for the 'good old boy' vibe. Quinlan had a handshake like a wet fish, with a faint tremor. Mrs Knott shook my hand like a man, with a nice firm grip, but not overdoing it like Gladly.

I cleared my throat; everyone quieted.

"I'm pleased to meet you all," I said. "I won't remember all your names at first, but give me a few days and I'll know you." I looked around at the group. "This is my first time working at a school like this, and I'm probably your first experience of a school security officer, so I'm willing to work at it until we reach an understanding. I don't want to go stepping on any toes." I paused. "Thank you."

There was a general murmur that I took for agreement; I turned to Principal Blackwell.

"Is there anything else we need to do before I start?" I asked her.

She frowned. "Not that I can think of. If there's nothing else …" Turning on her heel, she walked out of the room, heading for her office.

I followed along, waiting until she paused at her office door. "Do I get master keys?" I knew I did; it was specified in the letter on my fridge.

She frowned more deeply. "I'm not sure about that …"

"Do you have master keys?" I pressed as she unlocked the door.

"Yes, but they're generally spares for the janitor …"

"And now I need them," I pointed out. "If I need to go find the janitor every time I have to investigate some strange occurrence, this will drastically reduce my ability to do my job."

"Fine," she snapped. Entering the office, she reached into a drawer and almost threw me a bunch of keys. Most were unlabelled; I guessed that this was because the janitor knew them all.

"Sign out book?" I prompted.

Grudgingly, she pulled a book from the drawer, and I signed the keys into my custody. Then I hooked them on to my belt.

"Thank you, Principal Blackwell," I said politely. "I'll get out of your hair now."

I didn't quite catch her reply, but I don't think it was very polite. I exited her office, carefully closing the door behind me.

=///=
​

My first order of business was to get the layout of the school. It was all one building, with multiple levels, so I was understandably concerned about being able to find my way around. Worse, they hadn't supplied me with a map of the school, so I was forced to use dead reckoning.

Turning a corridor, making a bet with myself that the cafeteria lay ahead, I encountered Mr Gladly. He smiled broadly when he saw me.

"Allen, right?" he asked. "Got a first name?"

"It's Michael," I told him. "But if you don't mind, I'd prefer to use Allen. That way, we don't send the kids the wrong message."

"Hey," he said. "I just tell 'em to call me Mr G. They eat it up. A teacher they can relate to, you know? They love me."

I know one that doesn't, I thought but didn't say. And I had to say that his attitude was starting to grate on me a little as well.

"Not in this job to be liked," I said, but with a half-smile to take the sting out of it. "I just want to do it right, make sure everyone gets home at the end of the day."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, chill, man," he said, raising his eyebrows. "You always this intense?"

I looked at him curiously, head tilted to one side. "I don't see it as intensity," I told him. "I see it as choosing to do the job right the first time, every time. I've been doing this for ten years. I've seen it done badly. Sometimes I've screwed up. But I've seen it done well, too. I prefer to get it right." I paused. "Actually, you can help me out here."

"Yeah?" he asked, his enthusiasm back. "Trouble finding your way around?"

"A little," I admitted, "but I'm getting there. What I'm after is the names of any trouble students. People I'd be advised to keep an eye on. People getting bullied, might need an eye kept on them, make sure people aren't making trouble for them. Places where trouble usually starts. Things like that. You've been here longer than I have; you'd have a better idea than me, right?"

I didn't miss the wary look in his eye.

"Huh," he said. "You know, I'd have to go to the principal before I gave you the names of any 'troublemakers'," he gave the word air quotes, "but I guess I can point you out a few people, once classes start."

I nodded. "Anything that would be useful, I'd appreciate." I paused, giving him room to say something, but he didn't bite.

"Well," he said, "I'd better get my classroom ready for the first class. The kids will be showing up any time now."

"Just one more thing," I said, following him down the hall. "I read about an incident this January. Someone got locked in a locker?"

He quickened his pace. "We dealt with that matter," he said over his shoulder. "It's over and done."

"Ah, so the guilty parties were caught and punished?" I asked, moving faster myself.

"You'll have to talk to the principal about that," he said, almost breaking into a run.

I slowed to a walk, watching him hurry away.

Interesting, I thought. He knows they failed her. Knows they're still failing her. But he doesn't want to face up to it.

It was something to think about.

=///=
​

The students arrived in dribs and drabs as their parents dropped them off, and in large groups as the buses arrived and departed. I managed to find my way back to the front of the building, and watched them arrive. There were quite a few startled glances my way, and I nodded to those who made eye contact with me, but no-one spoke to me, and I didn't talk either.

It wasn't hard to pick out Emma Barnes and her coterie; red haired, striking good looks, and a figure that did not belong on a fifteen year old. Madison was several inches shorter, rather petite, and cute in a way that had appealed to me in my younger years. Sophia was slender and slightly above average height, with black hair and dark skin.

She was also the first 'cape' I had encountered since this whole episode started; I wasn't counting the sighting of Glory Girl. It was intriguing; looking at her, I saw an athletic fifteen year old. But she was also a superhero, of sorts.

I took care not to stare at her, moving past the trio, nodding to Emma when her eyes met mine, I kept my eyes front. Which was a good thing, because a tall skinny girl stumbled into my path; if I hadn't been looking, I would have knocked her over.

"Whoops," I said, propping on the spot. "Sorry."

"My fault," she muttered, and ducked past me. She was carrying a heavy-looking bag, and she didn't go to a locker, unlike everyone else there. I had a momentary impression of round-lensed glasses, long dark curly hair …

Holy shit, I thought. That was her. Taylor Hebert. I just met Taylor Hebert.

I wanted to go after her, tell her that she had a friend in this school. Tell her that there was someone on her side now.

But I didn't.

I couldn't.

I had a job to do here, at Winslow. Duties to perform. And taking care of Taylor Hebert, helping her, was only a small part of that job. A very important part, yes. But still only a small part.

Taking a deep breath, I went about my rounds.

But my thoughts did not stray far from Taylor Hebert.

I was sure that we would meet again.


End of Introduction

First Interaction

 

[landcollector]

Security!

End of Introduction

Click to shrink...

Well now, you actually did it. Mr. Gladly and Principal Blackwell each made poor first impressions with you, I see. You may not be able to help out Taylor in overt ways (yet, anyway), but small things here and there may prove a comfort to her in the immediate future. I'm curious as to how your presence will affect canon, Ack. Looking forward to the next update with great interest.

 

[Ack]

Not really a fan of knowledgeable SI's, but I usually grow to like your fics, so I'll see where this goes.

It'd be interesting to see someone not trigger, although I'd also hope that you don't go the "badass normal" route.

The misadventures of a bumbling security guard with a heart of gold would be awesome.

Click to shrink...

No trigger is planned.

The narrating character is very heavily based on me. I am far more normal than badass. Though I like to think that I am not quite "bumbling". Heart of gold, yes.

Misadventures ... Not unlikely.

 

[landcollector]

Looks quite interesting.

Does someone remember the significance of the date?

Click to shrink...

I think April 8 is the very start of Worm. Taylor's going to fight Lung 2 nights from now, if things go the same till that point.

 

[Ack]

I think April 8 is the very start of Worm. Taylor's going to fight Lung 2 nights from now, if things go the same till that point.

Click to shrink...

That is correct. He's going to recall that soon.

 

[landcollector]

Am I the only one getting the feeling that, sooner or later, Sophia's going to get tased?

Click to shrink...

Nope.

Click to shrink...

Same with me.

 

[Inverness]

Damn Ack, don't you think you have enough fics on your plate?

 

[Ack]

Damn Ack, don't you think you have enough fics on your plate?

Click to shrink...

Well, here's the thing. Someone suggests a new idea to me, and I get inspired. So I either a) write something up for it, or b) sideline it, lose the thread and the idea dies. Or worse, c) I get distracted from the other stories I am writing.

I presume people noticed the shout-outs to the other stories I am writing?

 

[Ack]

Well this is something new but not seeing the point. Taylor one way or another is not going to be at winslow that much longer and trying to force some sanity is liable to get him shanked or fired for rocking the boat with the whole Sophia is a ward situation. From there there is not much a normal can do but be a bystander or die horrible given the shit about to hit the town.

Click to shrink...

A bystander with absolute information about the world.

 

[Robotninja]

Plenty of stuff to do at that school. Lots of fights to break up, kids with knives, etc. . . The school did screw Taylor over, but it isn't like her bullying was the only thing that happened.

 

[Ack]

I'm surprised the SI didn't have a freakout after figuring out where he was.

Click to shrink...

Currently, he's still half convinced that this is a dream.

The other half? Did you not see his reaction in the bedroom and then in the kitchen?

 

[Ack]

This isn't bad, however, I'd rather see you finish Hope Comes to Brockton Bay.

Click to shrink...

This will happen.

I agree that the problem with a character with foreknowledge is that it basically prevents the story from being street level. Because not intervening (by, say, calling up battery and getting a meeting with cauldron at a minimum) would make him the most colossal murderer by inaction ever.
Problem is: I don't feel like this story would be good in the large scale. Maybe the character conveniently only read the first part of worm? The story has potential. I would like to see where it goes.

Click to shrink...

One problem at a time.

He might be leery on contacted them(When considers his situation) I mean Cauldron isn't nice... like at all.
Might try to 'fix' things without setting them off.
Selfish, yes but human's prefer living and not being held in captivity for information.

Click to shrink...

By preference, yes.

 

[TheOtherSandman]

I'd imagine Coil will be discarding a lot of timeline's that ended with him strangling people.
Coil's power is really good for stress relief.

Click to shrink...

Wait.

There are other uses for it than cathartic murdering?

 

[seonor]

Wait.

There are other uses for it than cathartic murdering?

Click to shrink...

Coil is the only person who can have a cake and eat it at the same time.

 

[TheOtherSandman]

Coil is the only person who can have a cake and eat it at the same time.

Click to shrink...

 

[Night_stalker]

Wait.

There are other uses for it than cathartic murdering?

Click to shrink...

Yeah, it allows him to catch up on his paperwork at twice the normal rate.

 

[Ack]

This is awesome... right up until someone else catches on and assigns him any extra paperwork available.

Click to shrink...

"Coinflip. You can get a good night's sleep while doing monitor duty. You are now on permanent monitor duty. Congratulations."

 

[Ack]

he actually does the 'monitor duty while sleeping' thing in canon.

Surfs the web all night, gathering information, gets a good night's sleep at home at the same time, comes in to the base, dismisses the reality where he stayed up all night ...

 

[1986ctcel]

He actually uses both brains and they just sort of look out of the corner of their eye at the other one. Its not really one brain controlling two bodies.

Its a really cheaty ability.

Click to shrink...

It also helps that the Coil staying up all night isn't real anyway.

 

[Ack]

Security!

Part Two: First Interaction


I left the cacophony of banging locker doors behind me, and proceeded down the hallway. Taylor's home room doubled as one of the classrooms for computer studies; I had already located it, but I didn't go that way. The very last thing I wanted was to make Taylor think I was stalking her in any way.

It wasn't just that she was only fifteen, and had severe trust and control issues; I also had no desire to get on the bad side of the girl with bug control powers. The rest of the world would learn, sooner or later, that bug control was a power to be reckoned with; I was already fully aware of this fact.

So instead I started patrolling the school corridors, checking fire doors to make sure no-one had wedged them open or shut, looking into fire extinguisher closets to ensure that they still contained the extinguishers, and in general improving my grasp of the layout of the place. The bell went for home room, and I heard the thunder of teenage feet as they went their separate ways. I continued my rounds.

It wasn't until well after the first period bell had rung that I realised the significance of the date. It wasn't some obscure American holiday. It was the date that the story started.

I'm here at the beginning. This is the day she makes the decision to go out in costume, rather than wait until the break. Though she doesn't actually go out till Sunday.

The realisation sent a rush of heady excitement through me. I also recalled what was due to happen here at school, and when and where. Girls' bathrooms, third floor, lunch period. Lunch period starts at eleven forty-five. I checked my watch. Nine thirty. First period's half done.

I found the stairwell and went up it. Second floor. My work boots echoed in the empty corridors as I continued my rounds. Steady pace, not too fast, not too slow. I didn't want to tire myself out, but I did want to cover ground.

=//=//=​

The bell for second period went when I figured I'd just about covered the second floor; I stepped into a corner and waited for the surging tide of kids to abate. Some of these obviously hadn't seen me when they came in, and I received my share of curious glances.

One youth with Asian features approached me; I hadn't missed the nudges and whispers between himself and his friends before he came over.

"Can I help you?" I asked politely.

"You security?" he asked me bluntly.

I raised an eyebrow, pretended to check the patch on my sleeve, then nodded. "That's what the uniform says."

"Yeah well, the ones you gotta look out for is the ones with the shaved heads, you got it?" he said. "Empire Eighty-Eight. They're the troublemakers around here."

I nodded politely. "I'll keep that in mind," I replied noncommittally.

"You do that," he said, moving back to the group of his friends. They headed off down the hallway, laughing and joking and glancing back at me occasionally. I didn't watch them go directly, but I did keep them them in my peripheral vision. Watching a crowd go past, it's better to defocus the eyes and let patterns spring out, rather than trying to look at every single person individually.

I hadn't missed the fact that the boy who approached me, and his friends, had been wearing red and green. Gang colours. The colours of the Azn Bad Boys. Or Boyz, even. It had been a fairly blatant ploy to set me looking for Empire Eighty-Eight recruits instead of the ABB.

Standing there, observing the crowd going past, I did not miss that the ABB contingent passed by some of those very same skinheads. There was a little posturing, a little flexing, and I turned my head that way, my expression one of polite interest. I wasn't sure if they noticed me watching, but the ABB youths moved on, and the skinheads headed off in their own direction.

I made mental notes, and continued on my rounds.

=//=//=​

It took me most of second period to finish looking around the second floor, and make it to the third floor. The floor plan tended to repeat itself, so I was getting a good idea of which way the hallways were going to run. Of course, without a map of the school itself, I was having to find out what was where the hard way; go there and look.

Note to self: get a fire plan of the school, and fill it in myself if I have to.

But I did find the third floor girls' bathrooms.

No-one seemed to be around. I pushed the door slightly; it gave, swinging in, with a little resistance. Spring-loaded. Once I pushed it open a little farther, I was in a short corridor with another door at the other end. I nodded; public washrooms the world over had the same setup.

"Security!" I called. I heard my voice echo hollowly.

There was no answering shout from within, so I pushed open the inner door, letting the outer one swing shut.

A typical toilet and sink arrangement; six stalls down the left, a row of sinks down the right. A scratched and stained mirror over the sinks. None of the stalls were locked; I took hold of the closest door and tried to push it inward. Nothing happened. I pulled it outward. It opened easily.

I frowned. This was how it had read in the story, but why would they have the stalls set up this way?

The only reason I could think of was incompetent workmen, and official apathy. My frown deepened. If this had been done right ...

Thinking hard, I let myself out of the restroom, and went on my way. I still had most of the third period to go.

In Winslow, I had learned, the class periods ran for fifty minutes, with a five-minute block of time between in order to allow them to get from one class to another. Home room had started at eight forty-five, and the bell had rung for first period at nine sharp. Class started at nine oh five, second period at ten, and so on.

I knew that lunch hour started at eleven forty-five, and that Taylor would go immediately to that bathroom to sit and eat her lunch in peace. Emma and her friends would come in shortly after, and carry out their cruel prank. But I didn't know exactly when. It was a problem.

I mulled it over as I made my way back down to the first floor, to the staff break room. It was barely twenty past eleven when I got there, and went to the fridge for my lunch bag. I'd made some sandwiches and put in a juice popper as well. I don't usually drink juice poppers, but apparently the me in this dream did.

Mrs Knott, from Taylor's home room, strolled in when I was halfway through my sandwich.

"Mr Allen," she greeted me cordially. "How are you finding Winslow?"

I finished chewing, swallowed, and smiled at her.

"It's interesting," I allowed. "I see the gang activity is pretty intense. Do you get actual fights in the school?"

She nodded. "I've heard of it happening," she said. "Never seen it, though. It's usually between the skinheads and the ABB."

I raised an eyebrow as I popped the straw into my juice. "The Merchants don't get into it?"

She snorted, an unladylike sound. I decided that I liked her. "The stoners? No, all they want to do is sit around and get high."

I nodded. "Drugs aside, I suppose that's a blessing." I paused. "Any other troublemakers in the school? People being bullied? Anything I should watch out for?"

She looked suddenly troubled. I thought I knew why, too.

I'm an outsider. She sees stuff, and also sees that no-one seems to care about doing something about it. She doesn't know if she can trust me or not. Scared of what might happen if she talks to me.

Checking my watch, I finished the popper and tossed it into the bin. My sandwich wrapper followed, then I stood and brushed myself off. "I'll level with you. I overheard a couple of girls talking about a prank that was going to go off in the third floor girls' bathroom. If I'm going to nip this in the bud, I'm going to need a witness." I looked her in the eye. "Can you help me?"

She only hesitated for a moment. "I'm in."

I smiled. "Excellent."

=//=//=​

I checked my watch. It was eleven forty. Five minutes till go time. And I still didn't know exactly how I was going to handle it.

I cleared my throat and began to talk, just at the same time as Mrs Knott did.

We were sitting in a classroom down the hall from the stairwell; I had opened the classroom with my passkey, and we had each grabbed a chair to sit on. Mine was too narrow for my butt; Mrs Knott fitted into hers perfectly.

"Sorry," we said at the same moment.

I grinned and waved my hand in a go-on motion. "You go first."

She smiled and inclined her head slightly. "I was just about to ask you, how long have you been a security guard?"

"About ten years, more or less," I told her. "Ten years as a taxi driver before that."

"Those are very ... different ... jobs," she commented.

"Not as different as you'd think," I replied dryly. "You get to see the worst of the human condition, either way."

She nodded thoughtfully at that. "A very good point. What were you going to say?"

"Oh, it just seemed to me that a lot of the classrooms on this floor don't seem to be in regular use," I said. "Is that the case?"

She nodded. "More or less. They were going to put in more computer labs, but the funding fell through. So now they're basically spares until we can find something to do with them."

"Damn," I said. "That sucks. You teach computers, right?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "If the labs had gone through, we could be teaching a lot more advanced computer classes."

"And you'd be in charge of it all," I guessed.

"More or less," she agreed.

"Damn," I said again. "That really sucks."

She shot me a slightly startled look, as if not expecting the sympathy. "Thanks, I guess," she said, with a faint smile.

I paused, trying to think about what else to say, and the bell went off to signal the end of third period. Both of us jumped, as if a gunshot had gone off.

"Right," I said, standing up and stretching my back, "let's do this thing."

=//=//=​

"Are you sure that this is the right place?" asked Mrs Knott, as we strolled along the corridor toward the stairwell. Students were emerging from classrooms and heading downstairs toward the cafeteria; others were coming up the stairwell and heading toward the girls' bathrooms.

I recognised the back view of Taylor Hebert as she emerged from the stairwell and went toward the bathrooms; brown hoodie, long dark curly hair, "Yeah," I said. "I'm sure."

But here was my problem. If I stationed myself outside the bathrooms, the bullies would not bully, and no incident would happen. Mrs Knott would decide that I had wasted her time, and would be less receptive to my attempts to help Taylor out.

"We just need to hang back," I said. "Let them get into place. Catch them in the act."

"It sounds a little like entrapment to me," said Mrs Knott quietly.

"We're not inviting them to do it," I pointed out. "We're just making sure we have the goods on them. Otherwise they get away scot free, and do it again when we're not looking."

She looked unconvinced, but nodded. "Okay," she said. "Five more minutes."

=//=//=​

The time ticked by, interminably slowly. On my watch, the second hand was making its last slow revolution of the dial when three girls emerged from the stairwell.

"That's them," I said.

She peered around the corner, then stared at me. "But that's –"

"That's who we're waiting on," I told her. "Trust me on this."

She heaved a sigh. "Well, I might as well. We've wasted enough time on this foolishness already. What do we do now?"

"As soon as they go inside," I said, "we move."

Emma entered first, then Sophia, then Madison. The door banged behind them.

I started out at a steady walk, Mrs Knott beside me.

"I can't belive they're –" she began.

"You'll see," I said. "Just wait."

As we reached the door, I heard the explosion of laughter from inside. Reflexively, I reached into a pocket and flicked a switch.

Fuck, I thought. I'm too late to stop it. But not too late to catch them in the act.

"Stay back until I call you in," I said to Mrs Knott.

Not waiting to see if she did as she was told, I pushed open the outer door. She held it open as I went to the inner door. As I opened that door, I yelled, "Security!"

=//=//=​

The laughter, which had been filling the room a moment ago, died to nothing in an instant. Emma Barnes, closest to me, and indeed arrested in the act of reaching for the door handle, froze in mid-step. Behind her, Sophia Hess froze also, but only momentarily. Her eyes began darting around the room, looking for a way out. Madison Clements, farthest back, simply stood there, eyes wide with shock.

"Well, now," I said. "What's going on in here?"

"What the fuck?" said Emma, recovering somewhat. "This is the girls' bathroom. You can't come in here!"

"Actually, yes I can," I said. "Security guard. I can go anywhere. Now. Once more from the top. What's going on in here? I smell spilled fruit juice."

The smell was pretty strong in the air, along with whatever soft drink they'd doused her with. A sickly sweet smell.

"We just had a little spill," said Sophia, stepping past Emma. "We're leaving now. Get out of my way."

"No," I said firmly, "no-one goes anywhere until I've found out what's going on."

At that moment, Taylor emerged from the toilet stall, wearing her backpack. She turned to stare at me. She looked … messy. Covered in juice stains, droplets on her glasses, stains on her pack.

"You can't do that!" Emma protested, her voice rising slightly. "This is illegal detention."

"You're thinking of deprivation of liberty," I pointed out. "And no, it's actually not." I indicated Taylor with a nod. "You there. What happened to you?"

"Nothing happened to her!" snapped Sophia, taking a step forward. "Now let us out of here, you creepy old perv!"

"Not until she tells me what happened," I said. "Now, step back."

"Or what?" she said. "You'll make me step back? Touch me and I scream rape. You'll never work in a fucking school again. Fuck, you'll never work as a security guard again. You ugly fat fuck."

"You'd do that?" I asked mildly. "You'd lie to ruin my reputation, just to get out of this?"

She laughed in my face. "You don't know who you're fucking dealing with, you piece of shit."

As she spoke, she came closer, intending to shove me out of the way. She simply didn't expect me to grab her wrist and apply an arm bar.

I knew she was strong and fit, for a fifteen year old. She had serious muscle. But when it came down to it, I was nearly three times her age and twice her weight. Put simply, I was bigger, stronger, and had more reach. And she didn't dare use her power to get loose.

"Christ fuck!" she screamed. "That fucking hurts!" It hurt because she was trying to twist out of the hold, and applying more pressure to the nerve points.

"Then step back, and stop trying to get past me," I said, reasonably, and let go, shoving her away from me. I looked past her. "You there. Come here, kid. What happened?"

The trio were too shocked, too stunned, at my manhandling of Sophia to prevent Taylor from approaching me.

"They trapped me in my stall and poured juice and soda over me," she said in a low tone of voice.

"Surely looks like they did," I replied. "You four are coming with me to the principal's office." I looked at Taylor. "Your name?"

"Taylor Hebert," she mumbled. "Am I in trouble?"

I shook my head. "No, Taylor, you are not in trouble. Did you do anything to provoke them?"

"No," she said. "I didn't. Are we really going to the principal's office?"

"Damn straight we are," I told her.

"Fuck off I'm going to the principal's office," snapped Sophia. "You fucking laid hands on me. You're gonna fucking regret that. I'll tell everyone you grabbed my boob." There was a tearing sound as she ripped her top slightly. "I'll tell them you did that. You're fucking gone."

"I'll tell them he didn't," said Taylor, her voice stronger. "I'll tell them everything you've ever done to me."

"And you think they'll believe you, Hebert?" snapped Emma. "It's three against one, against the pervert security guard on his first day, and the weirdo loner. Who's going to believe you against us?"

I felt a tap on my shoulder, and moved aside for Mrs Knott.

"I might," she said coolly.

=//=//=​

"You're making a big mistake," Emma said for the fifth time. "My dad's a lawyer, and he'll –"

"Yes, Miss Barnes, we all heard you the first few times," I said. "Your father's a lawyer. But he'll do nothing. So kindly be quiet until we get to Principal Blackwell's office. You can talk all you want there."

We all trooped down the last flight of steps to the first floor, and Mrs Knott led the way toward the office. Emma followed her, with Sophia behind her, casting occasional poisonous glances back at me, and Madison behind her. Taylor walked alongside me.

"Want to call your parents?" I asked her quietly. "You can borrow my phone. Get clean clothes in."

She blinked at me; I had offered her alcohol wipes to clean her glasses off, for which she had been almost pathetically grateful. "If I could, thanks," she said quietly.

I nodded, and handed my phone over. She dialled and waited for an answer.

"Dad?" she said. "Yeah, it's me. I'm at school. Can you come and ... no, I'm not in trouble. Could you come and bring some clean clothes? Yeah, something happened, and ... I'll tell you when you get here. Thanks, Dad. Love you."

She handed the phone back with a half-smile. "Thanks, mister ...?"

"Allen," I supplied. "But you can call me Mike. I've been bullied myself. It's never fun, and I do not tolerate that crap in others."

She stared at me. I stand a shade over six feet in my work boots, and I weigh closer to three hundred pounds than two hundred. Much of that is admittedly fat, but I'm also broad in the shoulders and large in the arms. "How ...?" she began.

I grinned back at her. "Bullying takes different forms, Miss Hebert. There was a time I was being bullied in the workplace by other guards, who were spreading rumours about me. It's never fun, no matter what form it takes."

She nodded fervently. "Everything's happened to me. Rumours, being shoved around, having my clothes wet or dirtied ..."

I nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, been there." I paused. "Do you have any, you know, documentation of what they've been doing?"

Her eyes opened wide. "Oh. Oh shit, I forgot. Can you – can I –"

I was already handing her my phone again. She dialled again, feverishly.

"Oh, Dad, yeah it's me again. Listen, in my closet, top shelf, there's a stack of papers. A bulldog clip holding them together. Can you get them for me please? It's really important." She paused. "Thanks. I'll see you soon." She ended the call and handed the phone back. "Thanks," she said to me. "Really. I would have been kicking myself when I remembered it."

I shrugged. "Eh," I said. "I've been where you are. And one of these days you'll be where I am. Kicking ass and taking names." I held out my fist to her, and after a moment's hesitation, she bumped it with hers, then grinned at me.

=//=//=​

Predictably, Emma got to speak first. She wove a fine tale, with Sophia adding bits here and there, and Madison as the Greek chorus with "uh huh," and "yeah, that's what happened" when the narrative lagged. Taylor sat and steamed slowly, when she wasn't exclaiming with dismay over the state of the contents of her backpack.

"I can't believe Principal Blackwell's listening to that crap!" she hissed to me.

Mrs Knott spoke up. "I don't believe that's what actually happened," she said. "I was just outside, and I heard most of what went on –"

"But you didn't see it!" snapped Sophia. "You didn't see him grab my breast, and tear my top!"

"I don't believe he did at all," Mrs Knott responded curtly.

"How can you say that?" Emma demanded. "You weren't there! For all we know, you just came along just then, and you're backing him up, just because he's an adult and a security guard," with a pitch and spin on those words that made them sound slightly less savoury than 'dung beetle'.

I had to admit, she put on a good performance. She looked ready to cry. Principal Blackwell was looking more and more sympathetic to her all the time.

"How about me?" put in Taylor. "Do I get a chance to speak?"

"Uh, of course, Miss Hebert," said the Principal. "What did you have to say?"

"That what they're saying is lies," Taylor said hotly. "Mr Allen came in, and asked them what was going on, and Sophia tried to push past him, and he pushed her away. He didn't feel her up. She told him to his face that she was going to say all this, to get him in trouble."

"She was in the toilet stall most of the time," said Emma dismissively. "She didn't see it either."

"Can we deal with the crap later?" I asked. "The situation here is that Taylor is being bullied, and the culprits are these three girls. I had overheard something, I asked Mrs Knott to come in on it."

Everyone turned to look at Mrs Knott. "He did," she confirmed. "And I am glad that he did so."

"As I came in," I continued, "the girls were laughing. Taylor came out of her stall covered in juice and soda as you see her now ... and they tried to get out of it. Taylor says they trapped her in the stall and poured their cold drinks over her from either side. I believe her. Mrs Knott?"

The teacher raised her head. "I believe her also," she stated firmly.

"Is it really such a big deal? It seems like a harmless prank –" began Blackwell.

Taylor half-rose in her seat; I gestured, and she sat down again.

"A case could be made for criminal assault," I stated firmly. "They poured unknown substances over her, and some of it got in her eyes. It could have been poison. It could have been bodily fluids. Heck, juice and soda isn't actually good for the eyes anyway. She could suffer permanent damage from this. So yes, this actually is a big deal."

Principal Blackwell sighed and rose from her seat. "Mr Allen, could you please come with me for a moment?" she said. "We need to confer."

I nodded. "Certainly." I hid a smile; I knew exactly what she wanted to confer about.

=//=//=​

In Principal Blackwell's rear office, with the door closed, she turned to me. "I didn't want to take this step, but there's something you should know."

"Indeed?" I asked. "And what is that something? The reason you're leaning over backward to give those girls every out you can?"

She glowered at me. "It's not by choice," she snapped. She opened a drawer and pulled out a form. I blinked. I didn't expect that.

"Uh ... what's this?" I asked.

"A non-disclosure form," she informed me.

"Non-disclosure about what?" I asked.

"About the fact that Sophia Hess is a Ward," she told me tartly. "Now sign the damn form."

I raised an eyebrow, and signed. If anything, my signature as Michael Allen was messier than my real signature.

"And this changes what, exactly?" I asked, once she had the paper in hand.

"Everything!" she snapped. "We get funding from the PRT just because Sophia is here. Her case officer drops by occasionally, to make sure she isn't getting into trouble. She can leave class whenever she needs to, so that she can carry out her duties as a Ward. We have a huge responsibility here."

"Uh huh," I said. "And you're falling down badly on it."

She stared at me, as if I had just slapped her in the face.

"You honestly don't think that the PRT condones their Wards bullying other students, do you?" I asked. "Or the locker incident? If she was involved in that, and current form seems to indicate a strong possibility –"

"We don't know that for certain," she said hurriedly. "There is no proof linking Sophia Hess with ... that incident."

I snorted. "No witnesses willing to testify, you mean."

There was a tap on the door, just as she was mustering her rebuttal.

"What?" she called out.

"They're here," called Mrs Knott through the door.

"Who?" Principal Blackwell called back.

"Everyone."

=//=//=​

Danny Hebert hugged his daughter, sticky clothes and all. Alan Barnes was talking seriously with Emma, with occasional glances my way. Madison's parents were there; they were both quite young. Sophia glowered as she spoke to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman who had shown up to represent her.

Alan Barnes approached me. "My daughter says that you sexually assaulted her friend, Sophia Hess," he stated. His voice was firm and resonant; he would have a good courtroom presence. "If this is true, it means that we can discount anything you've got to say."

I nodded. "And if I can prove she's lying ...?"

He paused. "Are you calling my daughter a liar?"

I nodded. "And a bully. I have proof on both accounts. As well as Taylor's word on the matter."

"Well, we'll see how much that's worth," he said, and turned to go back to his daughter.

"Wait a minute, Alan," said Danny. "What do you mean by that? I thought we were friends here. I thought our daughters were friends."

"Sorry, Danny," said Alan, not sounding the slightest bit sorry. "When it comes down to it, family comes first. I'll do anything I need to, to protect Emma."

He walked back to Emma, leaving Danny Hebert staring at his back.

=//=//=​

We convened in the guidance counsellor's office. The scene was interesting; it was almost a match for what would have happened after the Weymouth incident, sixteen days hence. Taylor was freshly showered, and wearing the clothes that her father had brought from home. The three of us sat up at one end of the egg-shaped table, with Mrs Knott. Principal Blackwell sat down at the far end, with the others. Mr Gladly and Mr Quinlan had not been called in on this one.

As Blackwell murmured to Sophia's PRT handler, Taylor's father turned to me.

"I haven't thanked you yet," he said quietly. "Danny Hebert."

I shook his hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, sir," I said, and I meant it. I knew more about him than he knew, and I liked it all.

"If we can begin," said Principal Blackwell. "I would like to –"

"What I want to know," butted in Sophia, "is why that perv hasn't been arrested yet for grabbing my breast!"

"We'll get to that," said Blackwell. "We need to address these bullying charges –"

"No, she's right," said Alan Barnes. "If he did molest Sophia, then he's a dangerous influence, and we need to ascertain the truth of that right now."

Blackwell nodded, not entirely reluctantly. "Mr Barnes raises a valid point."

"Horseshit!" snapped Danny Hebert. "Those two are just trying to divert attention from what happened to Taylor, and you know it."

"Language, Mr Hebert," said Blackwell severely. "We will address that concern now." She turned to Emma. "Did you see this incident?"

Emma nodded, staring me straight in the eye. "Yes, I did."

"Madison," she said next. "Did you see it?"

Madison nodded jerkily. "Yeah, I saw it," she confirmed.

"Taylor, did you see this happen?" asked Principal Blackwell.

Taylor shook her head violently. "He didn't do anything of the sort," she denied vehemently.

"She's lying," said Emma flatly.

"Well," said Blackwell, "it seems to be two to one ..."

"But he didn't!" she repeated.

I cleared my throat. "Uh, if I may?" I asked.

Principal Blackwell looked at me as if I had just oozed out from under a rock. "Yes, Mr Allen?"

I pulled out my voice recorder and studied the display. I ran it back a little bit, then hit PLAY.

"Nothing happened to her!" It was obviously Sophia's voice. "Now let us out of here, you creepy old perv!"

"Not until she tells me what happened," My voice. "Now, step back."

"Or what?" Sophia again. "You'll make me step back? Touch me and I scream rape. You'll never work in a fucking school again. Fuck, you'll never work as a security guard again. You ugly fat fuck." Principal Blackwell shot a glance at Sophia, whose face had turned remarkably pale. The recording rolled on.

"You'd do that?" My voice on the recording was mild. "You'd lie to ruin my reputation, just to get out of this?"

The sound of her laughter. "You don't know who you're fucking dealing with, you piece of shit."

I hit STOP.

The silence in the room was deafening.

"I have it all," I remarked. "From go to whoa. Including where Sophia tears her own top, then tells me she's going to blame me for it."

"You recorded us!" gasped Emma. "That's illegal!"

"If I wanted to present this in a court of law, I would have had to inform you, yes," I agreed, with a nod to Emma's father. "But for something like this, it's perfectly applicable." I shrugged. "And Principal Blackwell knew about it, so ..."

Principal Blackwell was, at that moment, looking as though she had forgotten, and was wishing that she had not.

"I can play it all the way through," I suggested.

Emma and Sophia suddenly had very thoughtful looks on their faces. They were obviously recalling everything else they had said in the bathroom, to my face.

Alan looked at Emma, and she shook her head slightly.

"No, no, that won't be necessary at this point in time," he said easily. "We can take it as given that the accusations against you were a little ... overblown."

"In other words, false," I said flatly.

"If ... you say so, yes," he agreed. He paused, brow wrinkling. "Are you recording this meeting?"

"Why yes, yes I am," I agreed. I pulled out my second recorder, and placed it beside the first. "And thank you, by the way, for admitting that the accusations against me are false." I folded my hands. "Now, shall we get on?"

=//=//=​

"But there's no proof that they did all these things that Taylor is accusing them of, in these written notes," Alan Barnes pointed out.

"This is not a court of law, Alan," Danny retorted wearily. "We don't need 'beyond reasonable doubt' here. We have absolute proof that your daughter, along with the other two mentioned in all these notes, performed an act of criminal assault on my daughter. We have witnesses. They did it once, they could easily have done it before now."

I sighed. We had done well to get this far, but Alan Barnes was proving remarkably tenacious. And with every go-around, Danny was getting closer to losing his temper, and Taylor wasn't looking too happy either.

I raised a finger. "If I may ...?" I ventured.

Alan Barnes glared at me. "What?" he asked.

"Five minute break. I'd like to speak to the lady." I indicated the woman who had come in to back up Sophia. Her head came up and she stared at me.

"Why?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "For shame," I said. "And spoil the surprise?"

=//=//=​

"Okay," she said, once we were out of the room and away from everyone else. "What do you want to say to me that you can't say to everyone else?"

"It's simple," I said. "I know that Sophia Hess is Shadow Stalker. A Ward."

She stared, shocked.

"And I know that you're PRT, and your job is to make sure she doesn't get into trouble," I went on.

Her jaw fell a few more degrees.

"And finally, I know that you're pressuring the school to ignore what she does, so you can keep this cushy assignment," I concluded.

I could have slapped her on the face with a wet fish and gotten a less stunned response.

"So, here's the deal," I said. "Fold. Cave. Tell Alan Barnes to pull his head in. And I don't call Director Piggot directly, and tell her everything that Sophia's been up to, including the locker incident, the flute, and, oh yes, the fact that she's still using lethal arrows in her crossbows."

She stared at me, obviously unable to take in most of what I was saying.

"The ... flute?" she said slowly.

"It belonged to Taylor Hebert," I said patiently. "She got it from her mother. Sophia stole it from her locker, and ruined it. Because she felt like it."

"I didn't know about that," she said. "How did you know about that? How do you know about any of that?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Not the question you should be asking yourself," I pointed out.

She stared at me, unable to formulate a response. I sighed, pulled out my phone. Began to dial.

"Wait, wait," she said.

I paused, looked enquiringly at her.

"What sort of punishment should they get?"

I took a deep breath. "In-school suspension. Till the end of the semester. No privileges either. No dances, access to school events, computers, or even any spots on teams or clubs."

She stared at me. She was doing a lot of that. "That's two and a half months!"

I shrugged. "They were at it for two and a half years."

"That's impossible," she told me flatly.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Sophia Hess had no contact with Taylor Hebert before two thousand and nine. She can't have been involved in bullying her at any earlier date."

"Ah." I smiled tightly. "I've been working off of faulty data." The eighteen month figure was correct. Seriously, could you have just gotten the details right?" But eighteen months still stands as a figure."

"Sure," I said. "She can make up the time afterward."

I knew, as she did not, that Leviathan would attack before this time was half over. But the punishment had to be in place first.

"Why are you being so harsh about this?" she asked.

I looked her in the eye. "Because I don't like bullies," I said flatly.

She took a deep breath, subsided. "They won't like it," she said.

"Two of them will," I pointed out.

=//=//=​

"You can't be serious!" stormed Alan Barnes. "What did he say to you?"

"That's between me and him," she snapped. "Now, those are the conditions. Principal Blackwell, given the obvious ongoing bullying campaign, I believe that this punishment is fair and just."

Blackwell looked at Barnes, then at Sophia's minder.

"Sophia is one of our best track stars," she said weakly.

I shook my head. "And so she gets extra privileges? No. She does the crime, she does the time. Just like everyone else."

"I agree," gritted Sophia's minder. "No privileges. No sports, no dances, no computers, no functions. In-school suspension until the end of the semester."

Sophia was staring at her in utter betrayal. Then she turned to stare at me. I affected not to notice, put away one voice recorder, then the other.

"Would I have to take summer classes?" Madison piped up.

"There would be remedial classes if we took that route, yes," the principal said. "It would be a drain on our resources. And we're stretched thin as it is."

I smiled. "I'm sure you could get outside help." I turned to Sophia's minder. "You could volunteer, for instance."

She glowered at me. "I could do that, yes," she ground out.

"Well, that's settled, then. I'll, ah, be outside," I said blandly. "Oh, and by the way, Principal Blackwell? You may want to give Taylor the rest of the day off. She has suffered a fairly nasty bullying incident, after all. Just a suggestion."

Letting myself out, I closed the door behind me.

Damn, I thought. But that felt good.

=//=//=​

The office door opened, and Alan Barnes emerged, with Madison's parents. He gestured for them to go on, and turned to me.

"You sorry sack of shit," he growled. "I'll make you regret the day you ever set foot in this school."

"Why, Mr Barnes, threats even," I replied with a raised eyebrow. "I thought you would have learned from your daughter's example."

"What do –" he began, then he paused. "Fuck. You recorded that?"

"Recording, Mr Barnes," I corrected him, showing him the recorder with the little red LED glowing on it. "I think these long-life digital recorders are wonderful things, don't you? They take all the drama out of I-said-you-said. Nails down who said what. Now ... you were saying?"

But he was already stomping down the hall.

I looked around as the door opened again. It was Danny and Taylor, this time.

Before they could speak, I held up one finger. Carefully, I turned the recorder off, and put it away. Danny chuckled, and Taylor grinned.

=//=//=​

"So she gave you the afternoon off?" I asked, as we strolled along the hallway toward the doors.

Taylor nodded. "She really did." She turned, and offered her hand. "I want to thank you, for everything you've done."

I shook it solemnly. "It was nothing that someone else shouldn't have done already," I told her.

"Yeah," said Danny, "but no-one else did." He shook my hand as well. "I really appreciate what you did for my daughter today. And I want to warn you ..."

I nodded. "Yeah, I gathered. Alan Barnes is a bad enemy. But if it comes down to doing the right thing, or covering my ass, I'd like to think I'd do the right thing."

"Well, if you lose your job here over this," he said, "come see me. I'm in charge of hiring at the Dockworkers' Association, and we can always do with a reliable night watchman."

I nodded. "I'll definitely do that," I grinned. "It's gotta be less stressful than riding herd on a school full of delinquent ratbags."

About to walk down the steps, Taylor turned toward me, one eyebrow raised. "Just one thing I'm curious about," she said. "How did you know they were going to do that to me?"

I paused in thought. "Let's just say ... I'm really good at my job."

Danny slapped me on the arm. "And I'm damn glad to hear it," he said.

"Ah," I said. "Before you go."

They paused, looking at me questioningly.

"Taylor, I strongly suggest that you get hold of a voice recorder of your own before Monday," I said. "Keep it on you. Because you know they aren't going to give up. They'll just avoid doing it when I'm around."

Danny nodded. "What do you say, kiddo?" he asked.

She nodded firmly. "Thanks, Mr Allen," she said. "I'll do that."

"Hey, the name's Mike with my friends," I reminded her, and held out my fist.

She bumped it, and then she and her father walked away, down the steps. As they got into the car, she turned and waved. I waved back. They drove away.

I turned and walked back into the school.

Back to work, I thought.

But I was already thinking about what I had to do next.


End of Part Two

Part Three

 

[Night_stalker]

Ahh digital recorders, they make lying about testimony SO much harder.

Though revealing that you had one going is way more fun when you pull it out at the trial. If only because running Damage control is a lot harder when digital audio backs up your side of things.

 

[Ack]

Ahh digital recorders, they make lying about testimony SO much harder.

Though revealing that you had one going is way more fun when you pull it out at the trial. If only because running Damage control is a lot harder when digital audio backs up your side of things.

Click to shrink...

There are certain laws about that. You can only record a conversation that you are part of, if at least half the people in the conversation are aware of the fact that it's being recorded, for the purposes of the recording being legal evidence.

 

[Night_stalker]

There are certain laws about that. You can only record a conversation that you are part of, if at least half the people in the conversation are aware of the fact that it's being recorded, for the purposes of the recording being legal evidence.

Click to shrink...

Depends on the states, actually.

http://www.dmlp.org/legal-guide/recording-phone-calls-and-conversations

So if you asked Taylor for her agreement, then legally I think you'd be safe.

Alternatively, just get this baby.

 

[Inverness]

Damn that felt good.