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Chapter 3

Alea Iacta Est

Part Three: Random Encounter Table

"So, you ready for your first day at Arcadia, kiddo?"

"Eh," Taylor murmured. "It's no big deal." This was a blatant lie; she was trying to lean back casually in her chair, but one of her feet kept kicking the chair leg repeatedly. Danny noted that she'd hardly touched her breakfast.

"You do realise that it's still school." His tone was gently teasing.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Dad, I know. But it won't have Emma or Madison or Sophia there. I'll have half a chance to get my schoolwork done, and my homework finished on time."

"Do you foresee any problems?"

"Nope." Sitting up and digging into her inside jacket pocket, she produced a small cloth drawstring bag. She'd sat up for more than an hour, carefully hand-sewing it to a design she had found online. Pulling the drawstring open, she poured several dice out on to her hand. "I ran the numbers, and there's less than five percent chance of anything happening before lunch, and less than ten percent for the whole day."

"Were you going to take them to school with you?" he asked, amused, nodding toward the dice.

"Uh, sure?" she replied. "I mean, it's okay, isn't it?"

"Well, you don't want to lose them," he pointed out, "and in my day only gamer geeks took dice to school."

"What, like Über and L33t?" she asked, puzzled. "Why would they carry dice?"

He chuckled. "No, I mean gamers as in the roleplaying games that I had in the box. We used to bring our character sheets to school so we could play during recess."

"Huh. Okay. Well, I don't know anyone like that."

"Going to a new school, kiddo. There might actually be people who play the dice games there; you never know."

"I wonder if they'd let me sit in?" she mused.

He snorted. "Right up until you rolled your sixth natural twenty in a row, sure."

"But I wouldn't cheat like that!" She must have seen his amused expression, because hers became indignant. "Well, I wouldn't!"

"Kiddo, when you get right into a game, the morality of 'do I cheat or not' becomes more about 'can I roll high enough to hit that werebear or not'. There's people who would cheat straight off the bat without even thinking about it; I'm pleased that you're at least understanding how bad it is. But don't underestimate the temptation of rolling your dice just a little higher in the middle of a pitched battle."

She was frowning at him now. "Werebears? Really?"

"Yeah, you know how I found out what they were in the game?" Time for the oldest joke in the book.

"How?"

"Oh, well, we were walking along and we ran into a bunch of them. So we asked them what they were. And they said, 'we're bears'."

It took her a second or so to get it, then she rolled her eyes and groaned. "Dad. That's worse than your usual jokes."

"Trust me, you'll run into worse than that." He shrugged. "Mind you, there might not be anyone who plays those sorts of games at Arcadia. And they might not even allow that sort of thing at the school."

"Let's find out." She sorted the dice out, dropping most of them back into the bag. Three were left sitting on her palm, all ten-siders. "Okay, chances that I'll encounter someone there who plays these sorts of games." The dice rolled off of her palm, and clattered on to the table.

"Taylor, I really don't think -"

"And that's a seventy-eight point three percent chance."

He blinked. The dice were indeed showing a seven, an eight and a three. "You sure it's in that order?"

"When you get in the car, are you sure you know which is the brake and which is the accelerator?"

"I … okay, you're sure. But it might still be against the rules."

She scooped the dice up. "Chances that we'd get in trouble for playing games like that in school?"

Once more, the plastic polyhedrons rattled across the tabletop. One, seven and five.

"I can't even guess at that one," he admitted.

"Five point one seven percent chance," she clarified.

"Oh. Right. I'm guessing that's for if you keep playing once lunch break is over, or try to sneak in a bit of gaming in class."

"I'd never do that!" She managed to look even more shocked than at the suggestion that she might cheat.

He was inclined to believe her; after all, she was smart and conscientious. But he'd known others like that too. "Don't assume that the temptation wouldn't be there. Playing RPGs is fun, a lot of fun. You've got a whole peer group who's enjoying it along with you. And the temptation to push the boundaries just a little bit would indeed be there." He pointed at her dice-bag. "Just remember what you've got to lose. For anyone else, those are just dice. For you, they're quite a bit more."

Soberly, she nodded. "Okay, Dad. I'll remember."

"Good." He glanced at the clock. "It's just about time to go. I'll take you in today; once we've got the bus schedule worked out, you can go in yourself."

"Okay, thanks, Dad." She stood and slung her backpack over her shoulder. It was about half-full; most of the books she needed would be waiting for her when she got to Arcadia.

"Oh, and check the mailbox on the way out, will you? I'm waiting on some progress reports."

"Okay, Dad." She trotted out through the front door, pulling it closed behind her. Skipping over the rotten step, she headed down to the mailbox. A few letters, and a card from the post office. She was puzzling over the latter when she got into the car.

"What have you got there, kiddo?"

"Not sure." She handed it over. "Were we waiting on a parcel?"

"Oh, right." He looked it over, then tucked it into his pocket. "I know what this is. I'll pick it up this afternoon."

"So what is it?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

She wrinkled her nose at him. "You're no fun."

"Hey, even if you're able to tell the future with dice, there should still be some surprises left, right?"

"So it's something for me?"

He started the car and pulled it out of the driveway. "Mayyybe."

"It's something for me, isn't it?"

"Refer to previous answer." He was grinning broadly now.

"Come on, tell me."

"Mmmmnope."

"You're mean and horrible and I hate you."

"And I'm still not going to tell you."

"I'll use puppy-dog eyes on you."

"Those haven't worked since you were eight."

"I'll roll the dice and find out."

"Good luck with that." By now he was chuckling.

"I'll report you to my union rep."

He laughed so hard that he nearly missed the next turn.

They bantered back and forth all the way to Arcadia; by the time they got there, she wasn't even really trying to find out any more. It was just a fun way to pass the time, which they were both rather enjoying. He pulled up outside the front gates of the school, and turned to her. "You okay to find your way home, kiddo?"

"I should be, Dad," she agreed. "Don't forget to pick up that parcel."

"Eh." He gestured carelessly. "I might leave it a few days. It can't be that important."

"Da-ad. Seriously?"

"Nope, not seriously." He chuckled. "But the look on your face."

She stuck out her tongue at him, and climbed out of the car. "See you this afternoon."

"See you then." She closed the door; he drove off. Re-settling her backpack on her shoulders, she turned and walked in through the gates of Arcadia.

It was a large school, for all that it held less students than Winslow. From the map she had gotten, it was shaped roughly like the letter 'H', with four wings extending from a central bar. She wasn't quite sure what was between the wings on the other end of the 'H', but on this end there were trees, lunch tables, a couple of basketball hoops and the staff parking lot. She recalled the administration area as being in the middle bar between the wings; hopefully if she went there, someone could tell her where she was supposed to be.

Other students were already wandering around, despite the fact that she was supposed to be early. Don't want to make a bad impression on my first day. She got the odd curious look, but there wasn't the hostility that she was used to; given that it was part way through the school year, a new face would be a source of interest rather than dislike. Also, Emma doesn't attend here. Which makes it a thousand percent better already.

"Hey, get that, would you?"

Jerked abruptly out of her reverie by the shout, she became aware that she had been walking past a group where several guys – plus a couple of girls – had been shooting hoops. They were all looking at her now, as their ball bounced in her direction. Instinctively, she caught it, and walked back toward the group with it. Bouncing it experimentally on the ground a few times, she got a feel for it.

"Hey," greeted one of the guys. "Thanks. You're new around here?" He was a little taller than her, with dark-blond tousled hair. Almost immediately, she picked him as a jock; he was wearing a singlet and shorts, which did little to disguise the sheen of sweat over his muscular torso.

"Uh, yeah," she replied after a moment, jerking her eyes away from his chest. A couple of the guys, and one of the girls, chuckled. Oh god, and here I was worried about making a bad impression. "Taylor. Taylor's my name. I'm new here." She bounced the ball on the ground again, just to draw attention from the blush that she could feel creeping over her cheeks.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Taylor," the guy replied cheerfully. He probably gets that all the time. "I'm Rob. That's Nick, Carlos, Kelly, Dean, Sasha and Bernice." He gestured at the ball. "You play much? You've got the height for it."

"No, uh, I've never been much for sports." Her face heated even more. Stop it! "I'm not all that fit."

"Well, you want to have a shot?" He pointed at the hoop. "If you want, you can come a bit closer."

I wonder. "I, uh, okay. But I've never done this before."

Hefting the ball, she threw it. It flew through the air on the arc that she had designated, bounced off the backboard, ran around the hoop once, then fell through. In the silence that followed, punctuated only by the sound of the ball bouncing on the ground, she fancied that she could hear jaws dropping in the entire group.

Rob was the first to speak. "Holy crap. That's the best case of beginner's luck I ever saw."

"Wow, that was pretty good."

"Good, hell, that was awesome!"

"Come on, see if you can do it again!"

The others were now crowding around her, offering their congratulations and patting her on the shoulders. She felt nervous; every other time she had been surrounded like this, it had turned out badly for her. "I, uh, I've got to get to the office. It's my first day."

"That's probably a good idea," Carlos noted; he was a solidly-built Hispanic boy. "So, Taylor, what year are you in? Junior?"

"Sophomore," she corrected him.

"Huh. You're tall for it. Well, nice meeting you." He offered his hand; she shook it.

"Thanks," she replied. "I'd stick around, but I've really got to get going."

"Feel free to join in any time we're shooting hoops," Kelly offered. "Even if that was beginner's luck, you've got an eye for it. I can tell."

"Yeah, okay, I'll think about it," she temporised, and made her escape. As she headed for the office, she heard the sound of the ball rebounding off of the backboard once more. An eye for it, hah. I've got a whole power for it.

But it had felt good, really good, to make the ball go where she wanted it. She had an idea what Dad had meant now, the temptation to make herself look just a little better in the eyes of others.

That she could shoot hoops with the best of them, she had no doubt now. She wasn't fit enough to play a full game yet, but she was pretty certain that she could put the ball through the hoop from anywhere she could reach it. Of course, she couldn't join a basketball team; she could imagine her father's reaction if she did that. They'd both know that every time she scored a hoop, she would be cheating with her power.

No. I'd better just pass it off as a fluke. Next time I do that, I need to miss.

"Hello, Taylor," the principal greeted her. "It's always good to meet a new face. But can you tell me something?"

"Uh, what's that, sir?"

"I've seen your scholastic aptitude marks from middle school." He tilted his head slightly. "You were good enough to get a place here when you began your freshman year. What made you go to Winslow instead?"

Taylor ducked her head. "My best friend was going there, so I went there to be with her."

"Hmm. And she's not there any more?"

"She's not my best friend any more," Taylor replied. "She's friends with the girl who tried to shove me into the locker."

"Ah," he noted, in tones of enlightenment. "That. Well, I've been filled in on what was going on at Winslow, and I will repeat what I told your father; we do not condone that sort of thing at all here."

"Uh, thank you," she replied awkwardly. "I've already met some of the students here. They were nice."

"That's good, that's good," he told her heartily. "Now, is there anything you wanted to know? Any questions?"

"Not really. I just came here to get my final class schedule and my locker number, stuff like that."

"Ah, for that sort of thing, I'll have to pass you on to my overworked and under-appreciated vice principal." He stood up and offered his hand. "Very pleased to meet you, Taylor. I have a feeling you'll get along here."

She shook it. "Well, so far? It's looking pretty good."

He was still chuckling when she left his office.

Vice Principal Howell wasn't all that impressive looking, but she was certainly competent. Taylor had her class schedule in one hand, and a map of the school with the pertinent classrooms shown in coloured marker in the other, as the vice principal led the way to the locker that she would be using.

"We've got half an hour before the bell rings for the first period," Ms Howell informed her briskly. "Bathrooms are marked out on your map. I've taken the liberty of placing the books we're supplying you with into your locker. Your locker combination, as well as your school email address and password, are on this piece of paper."

Taylor accepted it. "Uh, thank you, ma'am."

Howell, a mildly unattractive woman with bleached blonde hair, wearing a floral blouse and colourful scarf, offered an austere smile which seemed to pass for humour with her. "You're welcome, Miss Hebert. Now, I'll leave you to settle in."

Taylor watched her walk away, then turned to the locker. Entering the combination, she opened it up; it was of a different pattern to the Winslow model, with multiple shelves that would prevent anyone from being shoved into it. As the vice principal had indicated, a few of these shelves were already laden with books. She unloaded the books she already had, as well as her lunch box, placing the latter on a shelf on its own. Then, consulting her class schedule, she located the books for her first three classes and put those back into her bag, along with the papers she had been given. Finally, she pulled off her jacket and stuffed it into the bottom shelf, that being the only empty one left.

"Oh, hey," someone commented from beside her. "Just transferred?"

Looking around and up, she saw a red-haired girl eyeing her with a certain amount of curiosity. Her first impression was Emma? What's she doing here? But then she looked again, and saw that it wasn't Emma; the girl's features were pleasant rather than striking, and she wasn't nearly as well-developed as Taylor's ex-best friend.

"Uh, yeah," she agreed, standing up once more and pushing her locker closed. It didn't want to go, so she opened it, and saw that her dice-bag had fallen out of her jacket pocket and was getting in the way of the door. Bending down again, she retrieved it and closed the door properly this time. Turning to the redhead, she went on, "Is this place always so clean?"

The other girl looked around. "I guess. We have a roving janitor. He doesn't miss much. Where'd you come in from?" She leaned more closely, and dropped her voice to a whisper. "Are you a Ward?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief and interest.

Taylor had to smile. "Uh, sorry, no. Not a Ward. And I'm here from Winslow. It was a case of them transferring me, or suffering a massive lawsuit. Bullying."

"Well, that explains the cleanliness comment then," the redheaded girl observed. "I thought that there might be ninja cleaners, polishing the corridor behind me, and I never knew about it."

Taylor snorted. "Ninja cleaners? Really?"

"Well, it could happen. So, what's your first – ooh. Is that a dice bag?"

Taken aback, Taylor glanced down at the bag she still held. "I, uh, yes?"

"So what do you play? Do you have glitter dice? I love glitter dice. Do you prefer meat shields or rogue types? Or wait, I bet you prefer clerics. Back, foul creature!" she proclaimed, striking a stance. "Or hey, it's fine if you like casters instead. Casters are cool, too."

"Wow, no, I don't actually play, or rather, I've never played," Taylor protested, trying not to laugh at the other girl's rapid-fire delivery.

The redhead frowned. "So what are you doing with the dice?" Before Taylor could react, the girl had plucked the bag from her hand and poured out the contents into her own palm. "Yup, that's gaming dice, all right. And not brand new either. These babies have seen some use."

"Yeah, they're my dad's," Taylor admitted, retrieving the dice and putting them back into the bag. "He's showed me the games he used to play, but I have no idea how to play them. I just like carrying the dice around. It's fun to roll them."

The girl tilted her head. "Well, I have to admit, that's different. But hey, I've got a few different systems. They're not hard to learn. Would you be interested in playing? I'm trying to get a group together, and it's so hard to get people to commit. Say yes, please please please."

Taylor had to admit that she had a very effective line in puppy-dog eyes. "I … suppose," she agreed, somewhat dubiously.

"Yay!" Taylor found herself being spontaneously hugged. It wasn't something she was exactly prepared for. "This is so awesome!"

She was quite literally saved by the bell; at that moment, the chiming sounded through the halls of Arcadia, and the redhead let her go. "Aw darn."

Taylor took pity on her. "Look, I've got to get to home room, but I'll see you at lunch, right?"

"Sure thing." The other girl lit up all over again. "Say, what's your name, anyway?"

"Taylor. Taylor Hebert."

"Cool. I'm Annette Campbell. See you at lunch." And off she dashed, leaving Taylor to shake her head and pull out the map to find her home room.

Well, it's certainly not going to be boring around here.

Sophia Hess leaned back in her chair at the Wards monitor station; part of her attention was on the screens before her, but mainly she was intent on her phone.

can't believe they let us have our phones back. That was Madison.

Yeah, I know, right? But whats with Emma?

Dunno. She hasnt talked to me either.

Sophia frowned. Better clear your phone. Wipe all those texts about Hebert.

Wipe everything? She thought she detected a tone of doubt in the letters on the screen.

Fuck yes everything. If they get her phone but ours are clear, they cant prove shit. All we have to do is say we dont know anything about it.

Crap. I got some good pics too.

Wipe them as well. She shook her head. Dumbass, she thought but did not type. Everything.

Okay ill do it now.

"Sophia."

The voice behind her was mild, but she still whirled around, screening her phone with her hand. "Christ, Aegis. Did you want to give me a heart attack?"

"Sorry." He didn't look sorry. He looked like he was secretly pleased with himself for making her jump. She suspected that he'd flown up behind her so as not to make any noise. "The Director wants to see you."

She made a rude noise. "What's Miss Piggy want now?"

He frowned. "You're on shaky ground as it is, Sophia. I wouldn't get in the habit of saying things like that. It's disrespectful to a woman who's put her all into leading the PRT here for the last ten years."

"Can't have been," she snarked. "If she'd put her all into it, the Empire Eighty-Eight and the ABB'd be all behind bars, and the Merchants would be selling souvenirs down on the Boardwalk."

"Sophia." There was a warning tone in his voice now. "I know you're going through a difficult time. That's why I asked you to not disparage Director Piggot. Now I'm telling you."

"Or what?" she challenged him. "You'll report me?"

He met her gaze steadily. "Yes. I will. If you keep going the way you are."

She glared back at him for a long moment. "Fine. What does Her Highness Madame Piggot the Director want from me?"

"For you to go to Conference Room Six, up on -"

"I know where ConSix is," she interrupted him. "I've been here six months, not six days."

"Well, Corporal McKenzie's waiting outside to escort you there anyway," Aegis told her.

Predictably, she grimaced. "I just told you, I know my way around. I don't need a nursemaid. For fuck's sake, I was on my own for more than a year before I joined the Wards!"

"Not my call." He took refuge in bluntness. "But you are currently in the shit, so I'd suggest that you don't kick up too much trouble. Just let the corporal escort you to where you need to be, and make it at least look like you're cooperating. Okay?"

Again, she glared at him. "Fine." Turning back to the monitor console, she picked up her mask and put it on. "Someone better take over from me. Wouldn't want the console to be unmanned."

"I'll take care of it," Aegis assured her. He watched her head over to the doors and slap the contact panel. They hummed open, then shut solidly behind her.

"Wow, what's going on?" asked Vista; she was sitting at one of the tables, playing cards with Clockblocker.

"I'll explain on the way; you're coming with me." He headed for the doors.

"What?" exclaimed Clockblocker, as she got up from the table. "I had a killer hand, too."

"Which reminds me," Aegis noted, turning back toward Clockblocker. "You're on monitor duty till I get back."

"Aw, man," complained the white-clad teen. "I just got off monitor duty when Sophia got here." But he got up anyway and headed over to the console.

"I'll make it up to you," Aegis promised, slapping the contact panel. "Come on, Vista. We haven't got much time."

"But where are we going?"

He grinned. "You'll see."

Corporal McKenzie seemed to be a typical stolid PRT guard; he escorted her into the lift then stood, watching the doors as it ascended. I haven't got much time. Behind his back, Sophia slid her phone out, and scrolled through the options until she reached 'factory reset'.

The lift came to a halt, and the corporal turned to her. "Shadow Stalker, down this way please."

"Coming, coming." She pressed the button to go ahead with the factory reset, then shut the phone down and replaced it in her belt pouch. Now read anything off of it.

With a lighter step – a weight taken off of her shoulders, if not a lighter conscience – she strode along the corridor, ignoring Corporal McKenzie's directions, until she came to the door in question. He went to open it for her; she darted forward and grabbed the handle first, turning it and pushing the door open.

Conference Room Six was on a corner of the building; floor to ceiling windows dominated two walls. She entered, then stopped short when she saw who was waiting for her. Behind her, Corporal McKenzie stopped at the door.

"What's going on here?" she demanded. "I've been on monitor duty for the last week, with no-one telling me nothing, and now this?" She turned to Director Piggot, sitting next to Deputy Director Renick at the head of the table. "You brought my mother in on this?"

"I contacted her, Shadow Stalker," Renick informed her firmly. "She chose to attend. Come in and sit down, please."

She didn't really have much of a choice; the guard behind her was blocking the doorway, and she was pretty sure that the repercussions would be a little more stringent than a week of monitor duty if she cut and ran, now. Bluff and deny. They can't prove anything really bad against me. And I just wiped my phone, so that's off my back as well.

"Fine." She walked down the length of the table, her mother watching her with worried eyes, past the PRT twit who was supposed to be her minder, past Triumph. There was a chair set up between her mother and the PRT drone, with her back to the windows, but she grabbed another one from where it sat against the wall, and pulled it into position at the far end of the table from Pig-oh. Pulling her cloak into position, she seated herself, then rested her elbows on the table and stared up its length at the Director. "So let's talk," she invited.

The Pigmeister looked as though she'd been sucking on a lemon, which didn't change matters very much, in Sophia's opinion. "Shadow Stalker," she began. "Last week, you were caught attempting to force a girl into her locker, said locker containing a significant amount of biohazard waste. Caught by the victim's father, and the principal. What do you say to that?"

"It was a prank," Sophia explained, her voice earnest. "You know, pranks? Funny stuff?" Sense of humour? Oh wait, you had yours surgically removed. To make way for all the fat.

"It was anything but a prank," Renick declared, tapping a sheaf of papers in front of him. "The material in her locker was tested, and found to be highly toxic. Had she gotten it into any cuts, there would have been a significant chance of infection. Serious infection."

Sophia gestured airily. "Hey. Not my problem what Hebert chooses to keep in her locker."

"So this is your contention, that the Hebert girl had somehow emptied the contents of no less than three biohazard containers into her locker, sometime over the Christmas break." This was Piggot again, putting her oar in.

"Well, how else would it have gotten in there?" asked Sophia. "And before you ask me why she would've done it, who knows? She's a loner weirdo freak."

"Well, here's the thing," Renick stated. "We have a large amount of material from Taylor Hebert, dating from before this incident, accusing you, one Emma Barnes, and a Madison Clements, of many more bullying activities. Now, we know that you have a connection with Ms Barnes through her father, and anecdotal evidence has you being friends with both girls at Winslow. Do you deny that you know both of them well?"

"Oh, I know 'em," Sophia agreed. "But any accusations are bullshit. She probably wrote that shit up over Christmas after filling her locker full of shit, just so that she could point the finger at us and say that we did it."

"True," Piggot agreed. "She could have. This is a valid point." She paused, just long enough for Sophia to begin to relax. "Shadow Stalker, please pass me your phone."

"What?"

"Your cell phone. You carry it in costume. Pass it to me. Now."

All of a sudden, Pig-oh didn't seem so useless and flabby any more. Her eyes bored into Sophia's. Sophia pulled out the work phone and skidded it down the table. "Here you go."

Piggot captured it with her hand without looking. "Now your other one."

"What?" Apprehension washed through Sophia, despite the fact that she'd just cleared it. Can't be seen to be giving up too easily. "No way. That's my private, personal phone. You can't touch that."

Piggot slapped a sheet of paper on to the table. "This outlines my duties and capabilities as Director of this branch of the PRT. You will find that I most certainly can confiscate and examine any item that you carry as part of your costume. If you have that phone on you right now, pass it down to me." Her voice took on a harsher note. "Or I can have you searched. Whichever you prefer."

Sophia's doubts that Piggot would do such a thing were rapidly fading. "Okay, fine."

Piggot didn't let up on her. "I will give you fair warning. We will be searching both phones for any evidence of bullying activity regarding the Hebert girl."

Carelessly, Sophia shrugged, as she got the phone out. "Won't find anything."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Piggot indicated Armsmaster and Kid Win. "Our resident Tinkers seem to think that they can dig out the most buried data on a phone, even information that's supposedly been wiped."

Oh shit. Chris is a dweeb, but he's a smart dweeb. And Armsmaster's been doing this as long as I've been alive. Fuck, I should have lost the phone. Destroyed it. At least removed the SIM.

She paused, juggling the phone as she thought rapidly. "Look, can I just -"

"No." The word was final. "You can't just anything. Interfere with that phone in any way, and I will be forced to presume that you are destroying evidence."

She tried to force an embarrassed expression; it didn't seem to be working. "Look, there's stuff I've got on there. Delicate stuff. Selfies and stuff like that. Pics of me pretending to make out with other girls. Stuff I don't want anyone seeing. I've just got to delete that stuff, all right?"

"No, it is not all right. Triumph, confiscate Shadow Stalker's phone and bring it to me. Immediately."

Rory got up and moved down toward her. "Sophia, hand it over. Don't make this hard on yourself."

Jumping up, Sophia backed off, her cell-phone behind her back. "Get away from me. They're trying to railroad me, can't you see that?"

"Sophia, I just want to sort this out." Triumph came closer, his hand out. "This doesn't have to get any worse. Give me the phone."

Sophia brought the phone around in front of her, made as if to hand it over, but pulled it back at the last moment. Triumph advanced on her; she jumped back, going to shadow for a moment, and reforming in the corner of the room, where two windows met.

"You realise, the more we dance around like this, the worse it looks for you," Triumph pointed out. "You really want Kid Win and Armsmaster looking at your selfies?"

"Well, fuck you, and fuck Kid Win," she spat. Turning to the window, she went to shadow and stuck her hand through the glass, then let the phone go. Pulling her hand back again, she resumed normal form. "Whoops, I accidentally dropped it. Sorry about that." It was a long way to the pavement; she wasn't quite sure if the phone would turn solid first, and shatter into a million pieces, or if it would carry on into the concrete and be lost forever. Either way, there's no way they'll find the SIM.

Triumph advanced on her, what little she could see of his face was set in grim lines. "Sophia, that was monumentally stupid. Hold out your arms. I want to check your pouches."

"Sure. Want me to bend and spread 'em, too?" She knew that she was still in trouble, but without the phone, they had no real evidence against her. I'll just have to keep my nose clean for a while …

"No. Just the pouches." He delved into each of the pouches, then turned to the Director. "She dropped it all right, ma'am."

"Very well," the Director responded. "Be seated, the both of you." She seemed remarkably calm, considering that Sophia had just put one over on her. "Shadow Stalker, you've just proven that you can't be trusted in this matter."

"So I texted Emma and Madison a few times. So what?" Sophia shrugged. "Doesn't mean we conspired against Hebert."

Renick leaned forward. "The information we've been given indicates otherwise."

"But it's her word against mine. Mine, Emma's and Madison's. Plus any number of other people. Or don't eyewitness accounts matter here?"

"Given that several people just saw you throw your phone away to avoid it being examined for evidence, I would say that they do," Piggot noted.

"There was nothing on that phone that was illegal, and you can't prove that there was," Sophia stated flatly. "Burden of proof is on you, not me."

"So, about that," Aegis announced, opening the door and entering. "One phone, in good condition, Director." He strolled over to where Piggot sat, and handed her a phone; Sophia identified it, to her growing consternation, as the one that she had just dropped out the window.

"Well done, Aegis," Renick praised him. "You had no trouble catching it?"

"A little," admitted the Ward. "Needed some tricky work by Vista to make sure it didn't fall through the pavement, but I managed to catch it without breaking it. Screen's cracked a little, but it seems to be working fine otherwise."

"What the fuck?" blurted Shadow Stalker. "What the actual fuck? You fucking set me up?"

"No, you set yourself up," Triumph snapped. "We just let you do it. If you'd handed your phone over to start with … "

"No!" screamed Sophia. "No fucking way! You don't beat me! I don't lose!" She launched herself forward along the length of the table, going to shadow, reaching for the phone …

… and the Director lifted a taser from under the table, and shot her with it, at point-blank range. The charge from the batteries grounded through her immaterial form, and she turned solid, juddering with the shock. Vaguely she was aware of being bundled from the table, and her arms being secured together.

When she came back to herself, she was seated between her mother and the PRT twit. The PRT guard was standing behind her chair. Aegis was sitting where she had been. Her mother was looking at her with a mixture of pity and resignation on her face. Sophia hated that look. Her phone was still sitting on the table; Armsmaster and Kid Win were no longer in the room. Her wrists were fastened together in front of her, with high-tech cuffs; they were humming slightly. She didn't need to guess what they did.

"What …?" she mumbled, gesturing at the phone.

"Oh, are you wondering why we aren't opening up your phone and having a good look at all your dirty secrets?" asked the Director. "It's because we already have."

Sophia blinked. "... uh?"

Piggot sighed. "We looked into your phone, and the other two girls', when they were first confiscated, a week ago. We got all the text messages."

This wasn't adding up. "Madison -"

"- never got her phone back. We've had a police officer answering your texts. This has all been a sting with a single, solitary aim in mind."

Her head was clearing; when she spoke, her voice was bitter. "To entrap me."

"No." Renick's tone was firm. "To give you a chance to give yourself up. To see if you were salvageable. I talked the Director into it -"

" - against my better judgement, I must say," muttered Piggot.

"- but between us, we chose to allow you a week to come to your senses, to confess what you'd done, to accept your punishment."

Sophia shook her head. "So wait, you've sharpened the axe, and you were waiting on me to put my head under it? Fuck that."

"Well, it was either administrative punishment, if you had confessed before we faced you with it, or back to juvenile detention," Renick stated. "This little charade today was intended to make you jump, one way or the other." His tone was regretful. "It looks like you made your choice, sorry to say."

Director Piggot raised her head. "Wards do not act in this way, not on my watch. Your probation has been violated, and you will be going back to juvenile detention."

Sophia shook her head. "No."

Renick raised an eyebrow. "Actually, I think the word is 'yes'. Because we can."

"No," repeated Sophia. "I didn't do it as Shadow Stalker. I did it as Sophia Hess. You can't violate my probation on that."

"A legal fiction," Renick stated. "You did it; whether you did it as Shadow Stalker or as Sophia Hess is beyond the point."

"No, actually, there is a legal separation," the Director corrected him. "I wanted to be sure about this, so I looked it up. The only way we can prove that she did this as Shadow Stalker would be if she used her powers to do it. It's to do with the 'use of powers in the commission of a crime' clause."

"Well then, I didn't," Sophia declared. "Easy, done."

"Indeed?" queried Piggot. "So how exactly did you get all that toxic waste into her locker?"

Sophia saw the trap coming, and thought fast. "Opened her locker. Put the stuff in. Closed the locker."

"That would've been difficult at the best of times," Renick objected. "To leave nothing lying around … "

"We cleaned up, after. It's how we did it."

"So, you opened the locker. Not Ms Barnes, not Ms Clements. You." Piggot's voice was intent.

Sophia nodded. "Yeah. Me."

"Very well, what was the combination?"

"What?"

"It's a simple question. What was the combination?"

Sophia felt herself trapped. "I … uh, I don't remember."

"Well, you obviously went to the lengths to find it out, so that you could remember it at the time," Piggot pointed out, almost reasonably for her. "And now you're going to tell me that you've forgotten it in the meantime? If I had Ms Barnes or Ms Clements questioned over this, would they also say that you opened the locker, using the combination? Would they be likely to remember the combination that you used?" Her voice rose to a shout at the end. "Or would they simply state that you used your powers?"

She glared at Shadow Stalker. "Your life is going to be investigated. Every last bit of it. We will be prosecuting you. You will be going to juvenile detention." A gesture. "Take her away."

The last thing she saw as Corporal McKenzie lifted her from her chair and marched her from the room was her mother's look of pity.

She hated that.

Lunch break at Arcadia was a more pleasant affair than at Winslow. Taylor had retrieved her box lunch, gotten a bottle of fruit juice from a vending machine, and met up with Annette. The redhead had promptly decided that they'd eat outside, so they found a free table. Despite the time of year, the sun was pleasantly warm. While Taylor started on her lunch, Annette began searching through her backpack.

"Annette's an interesting name," Taylor commented idly. "How did you end up with it?"

"Oh, that's simple," the redhead told her, still rummaging. "I got named after Mom's BFF in college. They were really close for years, then she got married and they drifted apart."

"What, your mom?"

"No, the bestie. Mom's a free spirit. She does what she wants. Marriage isn't her thing."

"Oh, uh … " Taylor felt awkward. "Sorry, I didn't mean -"

"Don't worry about it," Annette assured her. "I never do. Oh, hey, here we go." She plopped a stack of paper on the table between them. "Character sheets."

Taylor eyed them; they bore a certain amount of resemblance to the sheets that her father had stored in his 'gaming box' as he called it. These ones, however, hadn't been filled out. "They're all different."

"Because they're from different games, duh. I've got the rules for 'em all. We can play any one you like."

This was beginning to look daunting. "Uh, I don't know anything about any of them."

"Okay, we can work with that." Annette singled a sheet out. "This one's from Earth Aleph. It's pretty good. It's derived from this one, but they've sorted out some of the problems."

"Okay, if you say it's all right, we can do that one." Taylor picked up the sheet and looked at it. "What's a, uh, 'bab'?"

"That's an acronym. It stands for 'Base Attack Bonus'. It's basically how good you are at hitting things. Depending on what your character's class and level are, that sort of thing."

"Uh, class?" Taylor had a mental image of a fantasy warrior, complete with ridiculously oversized sword, hunched over a desk in a schoolroom, learning … what? How to fight dragons?

"Her occupation, that sort of thing. Fighter, paladin, ninja, whatever. Fighter types get a high BAB, while squishy classes like spellcasters get a lower BAB." She actually spelled it out, and Taylor felt a little silly for pronouncing it like a name.

"Oh." Taylor thought about that. "So if you're playing a Brute type class, you get a higher BAB, is that it?"

Annette considered that. "Yeah, pretty much. But this isn't about capes. Though I have to admit, some of the stuff they get up to in the higher levels is pretty cape-worthy."

"Okay, sounds interesting," Taylor conceded. "I'll want to read the rules, of course."

"All right." Annette pumped her fist in the air. "We'll have you kickin' ass and takin' names in no time."

Taylor had to grin; the redhead's enthusiasm was infectious. "We'll see."

Annette's friends were just as geeky as she was, and just as fun. As soon as the redhead introduced her as "Taylor, who's interested in gaming," she was more or less instantly included in the group. A lot of the terminology went over her head, but her dice bag was mentioned, so she brought it out and the dice were examined carefully. She even got a few admiring comments when she admitted to making it herself.

They strolled out through the school gates, chattering animatedly; not only about gaming, but also about books, comics, TV shows and movies that they were interested in. Taylor could hold her own on the book side of things, and a few of the TV shows and movies were ones she'd seen, but by the time they got outside, she had a dozen or more titles that she 'just had' to see.

To her surprise, she saw her father waiting for her in the parking lot. "Oh, wow," she blurted.

"What? What's the matter?" asked Annette.

"Nothing. Just that Dad's here to pick me up," Taylor replied, waving to get his attention.

"Aww, I was looking forward to riding on the bus with you," the redhead replied with a mock pout.

"It's only for today," Taylor hastened to explain. "After this, I'll be using the bus."

"Excellent," Annette declared. "More gaming time for all."

"Well, I'll see you later, guys," Taylor told them.

"Yeah, I'll bring the rulebook tomorrow," Annette promised. "It's pretty solid. You'll be a couple of days reading it."

"My mom was an English professor," Taylor informed her. "Reading is not something I have a problem with."

"Sounds good. See you tomorrow." Annette surprised her with another hug; Taylor awkwardly hugged her back.

"See you then. Bye, guys."

In the midst of a chorus of 'bye, Taylor', she jogged over to where her father was waiting.

"Well," he commented. "It looks like you haven't wasted any time making new friends."

"It's more like I got ambushed," she confessed. "Annette – the redhead girl there – kind of grabbed me and wouldn't let me get away."

"Annette, huh?" Dad asked as she got into the car.

"Yeah, she's pretty hard to stop once she gets going. A lot of fun, though. She introduced me to all of her friends, and they're all a bit nerdy like me, so we've got stuff in common."

"Well, that sounds really nice." He started the car and began wending his way out of the parking lot. "School fees are going to be a little higher for Arcadia, but I think it'll be well worth it."

"Yeah, I've got a good bit of homework, but I think it'll be cool." Taylor leaned back and sighed. "Wow, it's been a tiring day. Tiring but good."

Dad's voice was teasing. "So, too tired to swing by the post office?"

She sat up immediately. "No, god no. Post office, now, please."

He grinned at her; she wrinkled her nose at him.

"Hi."

Taylor opened her eyes and looked up from where she was leaning against the wall outside the post office. Dad had gone inside to pick up the parcel, but she had chosen to enjoy the sunlight some more. A girl of about twelve or thirteen was looking at her intently.

"Uh, hi?" she replied. "Can I help you?"

"Sure you can," the girl replied, then glanced around. "We can help each other. You've got super-powers, and so have I. I'm looking at forming a team; with our abilities, we can do a lot to help this city and the people in it. I'd like you on the team. Are you interested?"

End of Part Three