Lauder Than All the Rest (Warning: Explicit language)

[Untersatz]

Peregrine Island
Friday, 23 March, 2012

The beer was warm. Also, it tasted like stale bread. I would have killed for an L.B. but at least this American swill was free. Besides, bemoaning the poor quality of the hooch distracted me from acknowledging the poor quality of the party.

It was probably a mistake going to a Cutlass party. No, screw 'probably'. This was a wasted Friday night. Whatever. You live, you learn. All the girls could talk about was who was fucking who, and since I barely remembered any of said fuckers from my two months at their school, I couldn't care less. The guys showed more variety at least. They flip-flopped between calling me a freak, bad-mouthing my new school, and asking to have their picture taken with the for real and actual "meta I totally went to school with". Said picture-taking usually ending with a clumsy attempt to cop a feel. The combination of disgust and awe and naked lust on their faces made me want to laugh and hurl at the same time. Preferably in their stupid dumb cow faces.

I didn't end up having to do too much slapping away. Derek would put a stop to it by walking over and putting his arm around me possessively, backing off the other meatheads with a smile that offered the promise of violence. Derek was my date as it turned out. A reality I hadn't triggered to when I agreed to come to Aaron Browder's birthday bash. I figured it was a "come hang out" thing. Hey, I never said I was the sharpest pencil in the drawer, yeah?

Derek clearly didn't mind the warm beer 'cause he'd been guzzling it all night. By 11 he'd decided he was the Defender of All Things Mutantkind and picked a fight with some jackass who called me "mutie" one too many times. They took it outside like gentleman of course, mostly because Aaron told them to and he was the defacto captain of this little band of wannabe cutthroats. I didn't bother following them to watch. The other guy was bigger but I knew Derek would win. He played Strong Safety for the school's football team. I don't actually know what a Strong Safety is but I do know it involves running fast and hitting people hard and Derek was supposed to be really good at both those things.

I took the opportunity to filch a beer from the fridge while everyone was at the window gawking at the beat-down. Someone had brought a six of Miller which had to be a step up from that piss Derek's buddy was serving up. At least it was cold. I slipped into the spare bedroom to drink it in quiet and have a bit of a think.

All things considered, they weren't treating me too badly. I knew Cutlass was kind of an anti-meta crowd which is why I'd hid my mutation when I was a student there. I figured coming from a private school in the Isles made me enough of a freak already. They'd accepted me then, the guys more than the girls. Go figure. But now I was OUT as a meta, and worse, a Westbrook Mustang. One of the Westbitches as they called them. For all I knew they were going to stop me at the door. But Derek said I should come, and he was a popular kid here, and he'd cleared it with Aaron who was pretty much the shot-caller for this crowd. So I came and honestly it wasn't that bad. Sure I got called a freak a few times but they were calling each other names too. Apart from that one meathead Derek was taking care of now, there didn't seem to be any real malice in it.

Truth is I'm not much of a mutant. I look normal, act normal, and even when I use my "powers" as they call them there's not much to see. I chuckled at the thought of how these kids would react if I'd brought Wade with me. Or maybe that little alien girl. Not that I'd ever bring an alien here. Peregrine Island was a favourite target for the Rikti and these Cutlass kids made The Vanguard look like the interstellar welcoming committee.

The thumping techno suddenly got louder and I looked up to see a boy entering the room. He was scrawny-looking with long, straight brown hair and a thin face, wearing torn jeans and a black and red Domynion Boyz t-shirt. Probably my age or a little younger.

"Mind if I join you?" he said. I shrugged and pushed some coats aside to make room on the bed. He sat next to me and took a long pull from his beer. Bottle of Miller, I noticed. I wondered if it was his brew I'd stolen or if he was just a fellow thief. I felt a secret kinship with him as I took another swig of mine. I fancied he smiled a bit when I did. Yeah, definitely not his beer.

"Not watching the fight?" I asked, mainly for something to say. Why I didn't just ask him his name or anything meaningful I don't know. Wasn't the cool thing to do, I guess. He didn't look like he belonged at a party like this. It was mostly jocks and bros and their girlfriends. This guy was definitely the only one here sporting a death metal tee. Instead of answering, he just gave me a long look.

"You don't remember me, do you?" he asked finally.

"Sorry guy," I admitted it. "I was only at Cutlass for two months." Inside I was wondering why I didn't remember him. It's not that he was good-looking or anything, although he did have that air of repressed intellectualism that I liked so much, but he was definitely more my type of crowd than those jokers outside.

"It's alright. We only had one class together." He took another drink before going on. "I wanted to talk to you a few times but you were always surrounded by... them." There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. I couldn't really sympathize though. If you want to talk to a girl dude, then do it. We're not space aliens. Well, most of us aren't.

"So this isn't your crowd then?" I asked in a remarkable display of perceptiveness.

"I'm Aaron's brother. Brent." he said, answering my real question of 'what the hell are you doing here?' The guy was sharp. Sharp enough that I could forgive him for being a bit of a dweeb. Maybe even sharp enough that I could forgive him for the name 'Brent Browder'. His parents need to pay for that though. Some crimes are simply too cruel to go unpunished.

"Well hey, Brent, good to finally meet you," I said with a smile. "I suppose you already know I'm Gretchen."

"Gretchen Lauder, yeah I know." He smiled back and I decided he wasn't all that bad looking after all.

"So now you're finally talking to me," I said encouragingly. "Say whatever you want. There are no footballers or mean girls to get in your way."

"And no cops either," he added surprisingly.

"Cops how?" I said. You know, 'cause I'm clever with words like that.

"I was there. That night... in Kings Row." He seemed reluctant to go on.

"What were you doing at a..." I didn't get to finish my question because Derek chose that moment to come bursting into the room. His shirt was untucked and he had a bit of a shiner coming on, but I assumed he'd been victorious in his mighty battle.

"There you are, babe," he said as he stumbled towards me. "I took care of that asshole for you." He hopped onto the bed between me and Brent, then rolled practically on top of me and mushed his face into mine in what I supposed was an attempt at a kiss. I managed to wriggle out from under him just as Brent pulled him away by the arm.

"Get off her, Derek," he said with more edge than I would have expected. I already didn't like where this was going.

"Piss off, dweeb," was Derek's witty response. He shoved the other boy off and turned back to me but I was already scrambling to my feet and watching them both nervously. Derek looked angry and surprisingly... hurt. Brent's face was turning red and I didn't like the way he was gripping his now-empty bottle.

"I'm out of here," I said with some heat and headed for the door. If my leaving didn't defuse whatever was about to happen here, at least I wouldn't have to watch it.

"Did this little shit say something?" Derek climbed to his feet but then wobbled a bit. The cheap beer was getting to him.

"She's leaving because of you, asshole!" Brent was on his feet now too, testosterone getting the better of his common sense. So much for being sharp.

Derek gave him a push, nearly knocking the smaller boy over. Brent took a swing and connected solidly with the larger boy's jaw. It all went to hell after that. I forced my way through the incoming crowd of onlookers and made my way outside. The last thing I heard was Aaron shouting "Dude, that's my brother!" amid a chorus of "Kill him!" and "Hit him again!"

I managed to just catch the midnight ferry back to Talos and sat on the deck hoping the cold air would clear my head. I wanted to forget the whole night but I couldn't get that final image of Brent throwing that foolish punch out of my head. Something about the visual was tugging at my brain. What was it? I held the image in my head a moment and concentrated. There... that was it. A tattoo on Brent's left arm.

Why did it look familiar?

[Untersatz]

Westbrook Academy
Monday, 26 March, 2012

Getting called to the Headmaster's office was supposed to be a bad thing, but all I could think was thank God for getting me out of Ms. Davis' math class. Besides, I knew I hadn't done anything wrong. Well, I didn't think I'd done anything wrong. There may have been a curfew violation or two. Plus that big scratch on the door from when I moved in. Also, I may have kind of sort of thrown a stapler at Troy Donaldson. It's not like it hit him or anything. You know what, maybe math class wasn't so bad after all...

"You can go right up, dear," Ms. Weatherbee said with a smile as I entered the office. "They're waiting for you." It was impossible to tell if I was in trouble from her expression. She was pretty much always cheerful and friendly. I was half-way up the stairs to Mister Herrerra's office before I realized she'd said 'they' were waiting. Who were 'they'? Was Troy up there? My father? I may have sub-consciously started walking slower, but with only a few more steps to go it didn't delay my fate by any substantial amount.

"Come in and have a seat, Miss Lauder." The Headmaster sounded mild enough, but I haven't been here long enough to read his moods. This could be how he sets you up for a tirade. There were teachers like that at Fayette. All smiles and then out of nowhere you were getting your eardrums blasted. Herrara didn't seem like he was that type but I wasn't going to allow myself to relax just yet. I took the chair he indicated, in front of his desk but turned to the side so I could face the other man in the room.

He was wearing a plain grey suit, but his blocky build and thick moustache screamed 'cop'. There was no visible expression on his face and I expected there never would be. I wondered what I'd done to bring the heat down on me. I'd only been in trouble the one time in Paragon and they'd let me off with a warning after dropping me off at my dad's door. Ultimately, that's why I was at Westbrook now. Pappa decided he couldn't look after me properly with the three-hour commute to work he was pulling. So he stuck me in a boarding school and now spends his weeknights in a hotel near the HIAL Institute upstate.

"Gretchen, this is Detective-Sergeant Shea from Peregrine Island," Herrera did the introductions. "He has a few questions for you."

"Sure, anything to help the police," I answered with a fake smile, hoping this silly school uniform made me look as innocent as it did lame. Has to be good for something, right? The detective narrowed his eyes a bit and I knew right away I'd layed it on way too thick.

"Good morning Miss Lauder, I will try to keep this brief," he began. He had his notebook out and affected an air of boredom and disinterest. Like this was just some routine bit of fact-checking and my importance to his case was minimal at best. I wanted very much to believe that.

"Take your time," I said politely. I didn't want this to go too fast or I was right back in math hell.

"Do you know a Derek Joubert?" he asked. There was no inflection in his voice but I could tell he was watching carefully to see how I reacted.

"No," I lied casually. First thing you learn in the Isles is to never tell the Rippers anything. These Paragon cops may be a little straighter but that doesn't mean they need to know squat about my personal life. Inside I was cringing. I hadn't heard from Derek since the party. Was he in trouble? Did he put Brent in the hospital? Were charges being laid? I liked the guy well enough but I didn't want any part of his legal troubles.

"I see," Shea answered non-commitally. He flipped a page in his notebook and I knew I wasn't going to like what he said next. He let me squirm a few seconds before he came out with it. "So if I received information that the two of you were in a relationship, that would be incorrect, would it?"

"The hell!" I exclaimed, letting shock get the better of me. A second later I realized I'd given myself the lie. The detective's face gave nothing away, but I could smell the sense of smug satisfaction. Realizing I wasn't going to be able to bluff this one out, I tried to recover as best I could. "I meant to say, now I remember the name. But he's just a friend. Acquaintance, really."

Shea nodded and looked at his notebook again, letting me off the hook. He either didn't care or else he was setting me up for something bigger. Whichever, he went on like everything was still routine. "Where were you last Friday night betwen the hours of ten and midnight?"

My first instinct was to lie again, but I realized he was only here because the Cutlass kids had given him my name. No reason why they shouldn't have. I wasn't one of them anymore. I was an outsider, a fair target. My best tack now was to play along and try to find out what was really going on.

"Umm... I was at a party in Peregrine Island," I said as casually as I could manage. "Why, what's this all about?"

"Did you see Derek Joubert at this party?" He ignored my question and pressed on.

"Yeah, he was there. So was half the senior class from Cutlass. It was pretty crowded." I figured it couldn't hurt to sell the idea of a confusing, chaotic scene. That made all witness accounts a little fuzzy.

"At what time did you leave the party?"

"Must have been about quarter to twelve?" I answered. I really wasn't sure. "I walked to the pier and just made the midnight ferry.

"Did you leave alone, or with a... friend?" He actually looked right at me after asking this. I stared back at him blankly, having no idea where this was going.

"I was alone." I shrugged. Simple enough for him to confirm that with the Transit Authority.

"So if I received information that you and Derek Joubert left the party together, that would be incorrect?"

"The fuck?" I blurted out, forgetting myself and getting a disapproving frown from the Headmaster. Shea took it in stride of course.

"We have multiple witnesses who all say that you and Derek left that party together." He almost cracked a smile, convinced that he'd cornered me somehow. I was just stunned.

"Well your multiple witnesses are full of shit," I shot back. "What does Derek have to say about it?"

"Mister Joubert has nothing to say about it. He's been missing since Friday night."

[Untersatz]

Westbrook Academy
Wednesday, 28 March, 2012

I had this dream when I was nine. More of a nightmare really. In it I was locked up in a mental institution and told that everything I knew was a lie. I wasn't really Gretchen Lauder, daughter of Herman and Seniha. Instead I was some kind of artificial being grown in a lab and imprinted with false memories. You'd think it would be the loss of family and identity that terrified me, but it wasn't. Mostly I was freaked about being trapped in this square white room with no doors or windows and not being able to get out.

So here I was seven years later in an eerily similar looking square white room. At least this one had a door, even if it was hard to see when it was closed and security-sealed. The windows were more obvious, filling most of the upper half of the east wall. It was harder to see out than in, but I knew the bunker techs were up in the observation booth along with whichever curious students had wandered by and wanted to see what the new kid could do.

This was my first chance to do my thing in the training facility. They'd held me off a week because they said my powers were actually capable of damaging the walls. I thought that meant I was pretty hot stuff at first. Later I found out what they meant was if I concentrated my powers on one square foot of wall and went full out for like, seventy-two hours, then I might, just might, create a 0.03% degradation in structural integrity. No chance of that happening. I didn't think I could go full out for seventy-two seconds. It didn't matter now. Over the weekend a team of techies from RISU came in and recalibrated the force fields to ensure there was no chance of my ever doing the slightest bit of damage. So much for the fantasy of 'Gretchen the Demolisher'.

"Alright Gretchen, we're going to start you off with something simple." That was Craig Tran, my staff Powers Specialist. His job was to work with students who had energy manipulation and projection abilities, helping us to... well really, I had no idea how it worked. This was my first day working with him.

"I'm ready," I shouted, not sure how well the mics were picking me up. I couldn't even see where they were. I gave him a thumbs up for lack of anything else to do. I felt pretty silly standing in the middle of this big white cube in my gym kit. I'm generally not prone to stage fright but this was so not my element. Idly, I wondered what the acoustics were like and made a mental note to haul my bass and amp in here some day to find out.

"I'm going to bring out a basic target," Craig went on, his voice sounding pretty clear through the speakers. Which I couldn't see either. I was impressed with the quality but that good of a sound system was wasted on a place like this. "When I say 'Mark', I want you to focus and hit it with your sound waves. Don't hold back, you can't hurt anything in there." I nodded and psyched myself up for some sub-bass action. We'll see who can't hurt anything, bud.

Almost immediately a panel opened in the floor about ten feet in front of me and a metallic-looking blue cube about one metre square rose up into the room on a small stand. I almost lit right into it before I remembered I was supposed to wait for the go signal. I shifted my weight from foot to foot, waiting impatiently.

"Mark!" came the call and I wasted no time. Opening my mouth in a wide "O" I appeared to shout at the target cube. No sound came out. None that humans can hear, anyway. With some instinct tied to my mutation, I knew otherwise. My vocal chords were forming and projecting infrasonic soundwaves far below the range of human hearing. There was more to it than sound though, because these waves packed a punch. As they washed over the target, I knew it was shaking apart at the molecular level. Determined to make a good showing, I kept it up as long as I could before needing to stop and gasp for breath. I don't know if I made seventy-two seconds but I sure hoped I had.

"Clear!" came Craig's voice from the speakers. "Alright Gretchen, just sit tight while we run some tests and see what you did to the target." I suppressed a chuckle at the underwhelmed tone he was trying to conceal. The target cube still sat on its stand looking perfectly intact. Guy probably figured he had a real lightweight on his hands.

"You don't need to run any tests," I said, walking towards the cube. "I'll show you what I did." Before he could respond I shifted my weight and brought my right leg up in a pretty impressive looking roundhouse kick. My foot connected solidly with the side of the target and smashed right through it. The cube shattered into a thousand pieces amid a pile of dust. For good measure, the top of the stand broke off as well and fell to the floor with a lound clang.

"Or you could do that," Craig said with a chuckle. I grinned up at the booth and crossed my arms, thoroughly pleased with myself and not caring who knew it. The Powers Specialist let me preen a moment before continuing. "It's okay, we got the data we needed. Are you up for some more?"

"Hells yeah!" I stepped back to the middle of the room and struck a pose. "What'cha got?" Almost immediately panels opened on the north and south walls and four metal spheres floated into the room looking like something right out of Star Wars. They seperated and moved 'til there was one half-way between me and each of the four walls. Then they began to move, making a slow circle around me.

"You did well with the stationary module," Craig said. "How do you feel about moving targets?" There was a hint of humour in his voice and right away I knew I'd been played. That patronizing 'you can't hurt anything' comment was intentional. He wanted me fired up so I'd give it everything. Well played, Tran. That was just a warm up. Of course no bad guy is going to stand still and let me blast at him for thirty seconds. I'd already seen for myself how chaotic and fluid a real superpower battle was. It was time for the real training to begin.

"Same way I felt about the last one, sir" I said as confidently as I could. "I hope you've got an industrial strength vaccuum cleaner in here 'cause these babies are DUST!"

[Untersatz]

Atlas Park
Saturday, 31 March, 2012

Last night's meeting with pops went about as smoothly as a barrel ride down the side of Mont Diable. He thought I should be able to go two weeks at boarding school without him getting a call from the police. I was of the opinion that no amount of good behaviour was going to stop prejudiced cops from harrassing foreign nationals whenever they got the opportunity. He wanted to know what I was doing out late at an unsupervised party anyway. I told him that leaving the party early so I could make curfew back at Westbrook was what got me into trouble in the first place.

Yeah, that's not the real reason I'd left, but he didn't need to know about the fight. A fight that wasn't my fault. Well, not entirely. It's not like I could have stopped it. Derek was pissed out of his mind and Brent should have known better than to get in his way. I felt some guilt for leaving Brent to take a beating but it's not like I asked the little twerp to get involved. I didn't want or need his protection. I can take care of myself. Besides, I really needed to get out of there. Sometimes it happens like that. You suddenly realize you're in the wrong place and nothing will be right as long as you stay where you are.

Speaking of the wrong place, I realized I'd turned left one corner too early. There was nothing on this street but towers. I thought the one on the west side had offices but Doctor Goldstein's office was supposed to be above a Super Lanes. I was picking up a prescription for my dad, the last in a long list of errands I'd been running today. Part of my 'punishment' for getting in trouble.

Rather than double back I decided to cut behind the apartment building on my right to where I thought I could see an alley leading through some shops. I know what you're thinking. Cutting through an alley in the big bad city? How stupid! It was cool though. It was a bright, sunny Saturday afternoon and this was Atlas Park, not downtown. The building I was passing under looked pretty high-rent. Besides, I can take care of myself.

Unfortunately the supposed 'alley' turned out to be nothing more than an indentation in the solid wall of brick that blocked me from passing through to the next street. I was so focused on finding an opening that I didn't notice the back door of the apartment building opening and a man in a dark blue suit emerging directly into my path. Maybe if his eyes weren't glued to his crackberry the collision wouldn't have happened. As it turned out, I got the worst of it.

"What the hell, dude?" I snapped as I climbed back to my feet.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, you little skank?" he shot back, matching me for bitchiness. He was a big, solid-looking guy. Maybe early thirties with close-cropped blond hair. From his build and expensive clothes he could have been a pro athlete. Or just a corporate fuck who happens to work out.

"Fuck you, asshole," I answered with my typical flair for diplomacy. He looked me up and down dismissively before replying.

"You're not my type," he smirked. What a creep! Before I could say anything else he shouldered me aside and went on his way. I wasn't going to stand for that. I grabbed his arm and spun him around to face me. Something I probably couldn't have managed if he'd been expecting it. Seriously, the guy's arm was solid muscle. I was too angry to care.

"You apologize for that, dickhead!" I screamed at him, stamping my foot. "And for knocking me down the first time."

He wasn't impressed. "Why. Should. I?" he asked very slowly and deliberately and for the first time I began to feel a little nervous. Then a new voice interrupted from behind him.

"Is there a problem here?" I looked up expecting to see a cop or a security guard. Instead I was surprised to see three members of the Hellions gang. They weren't showing any weapons and their body language was casual but I couldn't imagine they were interfering without some mischief in mind.

I'll say this for suit-guy, he was no more intimidated by Hellions than he was by teenage girls. He walked right up to them with his fists clenched and barked "Do you have any idea who I am?" I was praying for the lead ganger to say 'no' since I love to see self-important dickwads get their egos bruised but instead he just nodded and replied in an even tone.

"Yes I do sir... but I suggest you be on your way." There was respect in his voice, dammit. But then his two minions started flexing their muscles and giving him the eye. One reached behind his back and put his hand on what looked like a metal pipe sticking through his belt. They clearly didn't want to mess with this guy but just as clearly they were prepared to do so if he pushed them. I was confused. They were either in tight with him or they weren't. This little staredown made no sense to me.

"This isn't over," was blondie's reply. He made a show of straightening his tie, then walked through them without even a glance back in my direction. They made way for him readily enough. Then they turned and looked at me and I suddenly realized that if they weren't interested in that guy, they must be here for...

Have I mentioned that cutting through alleys in the big bad city is a stupid thing to do?

"Friend of yours?" I asked as casually as I could, wondering if there was still time to run. They simply closed ranks and walked towards me slowly. You know, you hear capes talk about Hellions like they're punching bags or circus clowns. I've even heard the term 'starter villains' tossed around. Those stories don't hold up when you're face to face with three tough looking and probably armed young men. I started to think about what kind of balls it takes to strut around in gang colours two blocks away from City Hall and the largest concentration of Heroes in the city on any given day.

The leader was wearing one of those devil-face masks. I used to think they were silly. All I could think now was how intimidating it was not to be able to read a guy's face when he's looming over you. Did I mention he was looming over me? Dude was six and four at the least, and surprisingly buff for his lean frame. His two cronies had spread out a bit, ready to cut off any attempt at escape. I slid my right foot back a bit to get into a more combat-ready stance. I wasn't going down without a fight. Then he spoke.

"You should stay away from that guy." There was no threat in it. It sounded like an actual concerned warning. What the hell?

"Um... okay," I blurted out, not sure what was expected and trying to keep a lid on the rising hope that I might walk out of there unharmed. Then I decided to push for some information. "Uh... who is he, anyway?"

"Bad news." That was all the answer I got. The Hellion took a few steps back then turned around and walked away with his two buddies at his heels. I just stood there and stared for a minute. No doubt with a gaping mouth and the dumbest look on my face ever. Did that really happen? Why did those guys leave me alone? Hell, more than leave me alone, why did they act... protective?

I looked around like I was going to find answers, and you know, maybe I did. There was my reflection in an apartment window. Leather jacket, torn jeans, and most telling, a Blood Rivals t-shirt. Christ, I looked like a goddamned Hellions groupie! Was that it? Was that all there was to it?

An hour later I was on the Peregrine Island ferry playing the whole scene over in my head and trying not to laugh my ass off. I let off a few giggles, earning me some curious stares from a cute steward and a pair of elderly ladies with a metric ton of Arcadium bags. With a look of embarassment I slinked out the door to the outer deck and let the wind wash over me. Suddenly I was hit with a moment of deja-vu. On a ferry, in the wind, playing a scene through my mind, and focusing on a small detail. It was a tattoo. On that Hellion's arm. A minotaur head, I thought it was, surrounded by flames.

It was exactly the same as the one Brent had.

[Untersatz]

Peregrine Island
Tuesday, 3 April, 2012

I hadn't planned on coming here when I got up this morning. All I needed to do was hit a few shops and then swing by the apartment to pick up some things for tonight's camping trip. In and out of Peregrine in thirty minutes, tops. I was in a good mood. There was no need to stir up any trouble. But some instinct made me turn left instead of right and my feet carried me to Mera Heights.

As far as I knew, Derek was still missing. I may not like the guy the way he seems to like me but he's still a friend. I needed to know what happened to him. Was he lost? Injured? Did he just hop in his car and take off like he used to talk about doing? It was over a week since the party and frankly the most likely scenario now involved his body washing up on a beach somewhere.

I supposed the police were still on the case, but if they'd learned anything they weren't sharing. My answers were going to have to come from elsewhere. I was persona non grata at the Joubert household, as I'd learned from two attempted phone calls, and I doubted any of the Cutlass kids wanted to talk to me right now. There was one possible exception but what were the chances he'd be at home on a school day?

Pretty good, I thought with a smirk.

I held the door for an old man with a walker, allowing me to enter the brown brick building without needing to be buzzed in. Ignoring a disapproving look from the soccer mom by the elevator I followed the main hall around the corner to #106 and knocked on the door. I could hear the TV on inside the flat, meaning my guy was playing hookey as expected. Excellent. A few moments later the door swung open and there stood all six feet two inches of Aaron Browder.

Aaron? What was he doing here? I was looking for Brent.

"Um, hey Aaron," I began but he didn't let me finish.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he bellowed, looking and sounding both offended and furious.

"Nice mouth on you," I countered. "Why shouldn't I be here?"

"Where the hell is Derek?" he blurted out, still looking like he wanted to take a swing at me. I didn't think he would but he certainly looked intimidating enough standing there with his shirt open showing off some impressive pecs. I might have enjoyed the view if I wasn't so put off by his attitude.

"Why don't you tell me, Aaron?" I shot back, deciding only at the last moment to use his name instead of 'asshole' or 'fuckhead'. "Last time I saw him he was pounding the crap out of your little brother while you stood there and watched." That seemed to stop him in his tracks and I could sense his anger deflating. There was a pause before he answered.

"That's... not what happened." He seemed a little embarrassed now, avoiding eye contact with me by looking at the floor. "It was only a couple punches. I would have stopped it..." He paused a moment, then looked at me again. "You swear you didn't see him again?"

"No man," I said softly, responding to the sincerity I read in his eyes. "I walked out of there and didn't look back 'til I hit the mainland. I haven't seen or heard from him since."

Aaron looked down again, then took a sudden step towards me. I scrambled back quickly but he just stopped and looked both ways to make sure the hall was empty before grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me into the flat. There was no hostility in it so I didn't resist as he shut the door behind us then backed me against a wall and trapped me there between two powerful-looking outstretched arms.

"Look," he said earnestly, suiting action to word by looking right into my eyes, "there was no fight. Derek pushed Brent off and then stumbled out after you." I nodded, trying to reconcile Aaron's account with my muddled memories. This would explain why the other kids told the police Derek and I had left together. It didn't quite fit though. I clearly remembered what I can only describe as a murderous look on Brent's face and Derek's was almost as bad. There's no way that ended with nothing more than a shoving match.

Was Aaron lying to me? Or was he just deluding himself, unable to accept that his best friend laid a beating on his brother? I decided the truth was probably somewhere in between our respective memories. Meanwhile, Aaron's eyes were still boring into mine, clearly waiting for some kind of response.

"I never saw him," I said plainly. "If he came looking for me, he never found me." Aaron continued to stare for a few moments, trying to decide if he believed me or not. Finally he sighed and stepped back. For the first time I noticed the strong resemblance between him and his brother. Same soft brown hair and even features. Same glint of intelligence behind the eyes. I'd never noticed before because Aaron is so much bigger than Brent.

"Sorry," he mumbled, once again avoiding eye contact. "We all thought you might have... uh..."

"Might have what?" I interrupted. "Kidnapped him? Vapourised him with my heat vision? Stuffed him in my purse?" I was a little shocked to realize that rather than pure nastiness, the Cutlass kids had directed the coppers at me out of fear.

"It sounds silly when you put it like that," he admitted.

"Glad you can see that," I said, still a little testy. I tried to bring it down before going on. "Now that we're on the same page, maybe we can start looking for answers."

"How are we going to do that?" he asked. I would have preferred he come up with some ideas himself, partly because I didn't have many of my own, but at least he seemed willing to work with me.

"For starters, I want to talk to your brother. Is he around?" I could hear someone else moving around the flat and figured it was Brent but Aaron just shook his head.

"No. My parents... sent him away." I knew he wasn't telling me the whole truth so I just waited, hoping he'd go on. He did. "They didn't want him mixed up with the police again."

"Again?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Aaron looked at me and mumbled a curse. He obviously hadn't meant to let that slip, but before I could press the advantage a new voice entered the conversation.

"What's she doing here?" The tone was snotty and so was the speaker. Vicki Ferrone was Aaron's current squeeze. None too bright and only superficially pretty, she didn't really rate an alpha male boyfriend, leading most of the school to assume she was putting out. Judging by her hastily misbuttoned shirt and Aaron's suddenly red face, all assumptions were now proven.

"She's here to see Brent," Aaron said quickly. "And be nice. She had nothing to do with Derek going missing."

Vicky didn't have it in her to disagree with her man so she settled for giving me a sneer while saying "How sweet. I'm sure her and the twerp make a lovely pair."

From Vicky's attitude and some of the things I'd picked up at the party, I realized that catching Derek's eye had made me very unpopular with the Cutlass girls. After Aaron, Derek was considered the pick of the crop. Well, not my fault. I didn't even like the guy that much.

"Shut your hole, Vicks," I sneered back. "Or I'll shut it for you."

"Aaron, are you going to let her talk to me that way?" She stamped her foot and looked at her boyfriend petulantly. Aaron's expression went from amused to exasperated.

"You'd better go, Gretchen," he said. He tried to sound forceful but there was pleading in his eyes. I decided to show mercy.

"Fine, I'm out. Catch you later, Aaron." I turned and gave Vicky an apologetic half-smile. She wasn't really a bad sort. "Take care, Vicky, nice seeing you again." She just glared at me. Whatever. I left without another word.

I was half way down the street before an itch in my back made me turn around. Aaron was watching me from the building door. I was too far away to read his expression, but the image stuck with me for the rest of the day.

[Untersatz]

Skyway City
Friday, 6 April, 2012

The day started well. I got my shopping done before lunch, picking up a rocking new swimsuit and two pairs of Levi's. Dumped everything in the room without running into Sarah and hit Gully's for fish'n'chips. Then it was off to Rock Candy to check out that Fender Jazz I had my eye on.

Shayne was cleaning out the garage this afternoon so I was on my own this time out. I thought about calling Blake but the prospect of a day to myself seemed kind of appealing. Besides, I was going to see everyone later at the pool party. Don't want to be too social, you know. People might get sick of me.

Rock Candy is easily my favourite place in Paragon City. It's guitar heaven with an incredible selection of new and vintage axes. They're well stocked with everything else too, which suits me 'cause I'm actually a bassist. The main floor is rather conventional looking to be sure. I slipped past India who was busy trying to sell a Peavey bundle to the father of an anxious looking pre-teen and made my way to the real heart of the store: The Basement.

Lars gave me a nod as I passed his regular spot by the bottom of the stairs. Still no smile but at least he recognizes me on sight now. Probably a sign that I hang out here too much. He was in his usual mix of black and tie-die with a colourful bandanna trapping his long grey-blonde hair. I still haven't made up my mind if the guy's an ex-biker or just the meanest looking Deadhead ever.

The place was relatively quiet so I spent some time checking the racks for new arrivals. There was a '64 Strat that I spent a lot of time looking at, trying to decide if the cherry red finish was bright enough for Shayne's taste or if she'd want to paint it a glossy yellow. Finally I picked up the Jazz and plugged it into one of the Ampegs set up in the 'noise zone'. The body was bigger than I liked but man did the bass sound good! It helped that Lars made sure every guitar and bass in the basement had decent strings.

I spent about ten minutes fiddling with the amp settings to get the tone I wanted then ran through some classic rock tunes to warm up. For fun I futzed around with some jazz lines. Playing jazz on the Fender Jazz, get it? Yeah, I'm a music dork. Then 'cause it was in my head I started running through the bass line for a song I was working on called 'Roll With the Punches'. The shop was starting to fill up a bit and there were a few other people trying out guitars in the zone but I tuned them out like I normally do.

I was on my third variation of Punches' main riff, still trying to nail down the exact timing, when I realized the guy next to me was playing along with it. I looked up and nearly jumped when I saw it was freaking Lars of all people. Apparently he was demoing the new Strat for a buddy and decided to improv over what I was doing rather than compete for ear space. The guitar riff he came up with wasn't exactly what was in my head, but hell, I'll admit it... it was better. I suddenly realized that this was the first time I'd ever heard him actually play. Damn, he was good!

'Man, I wish Shayne was here to see this,' I thought to myself. A second later I realized that if Shayne was here today, she'd be trying out that Strat and this wouldn't be happening. Was it happening? Am I dreaming this? I'm jamming with Lars, dammit! I tried to look cool, like this was no big deal. Then someone started kicking out a beat for us on the drums and I nearly died.

His name was Mike Shelly. He was the drummer for The Barristers, a local bar band that does mostly covers. I'd seen 'em once and they were okay. Mike was no Keith Moon but he was a solid pro. The beat he improvised was on the conventional side but his meter was perfect. It took me a few bars to synch in with him and I silently cursed myself for being such a fuckup. Thankfully no one noticed or at least they pretended they didn't. I slid into a groove with Mike's beat and Lars started wailing a solo like no one's business. I realized he was better than good, he was a freakin' master!

About then I realized everyone else in the shop had stopped what they were doing to watch and listen. Holy shit, I was jamming with a couple of pros. On one of my songs. And they were totally getting into it! I had to fight to keep the excited grin off my face. Didn't want to spoil the moment by squealing like a fangirl. I worked at maintaining a cool, disinterested demeaner, bobbing my head a little and nodding at Lars and Mike like hey, I'm just one of the guys here and this is totally not the greatest freakin' moment of my entire life!

God, I hope they bought it.

Lars was shredding the hell out of the room, but eventually I realized I'd been repeating the same progression for at least five minutes. Was it getting repetative? Boring? The crowd was starting to drift. Maybe I should change things up? Lars and Mike would adjust. They were pros, right? Yeah, I should segue into the chorus. So, how do I do this? Am I supposed to signal Lars somehow? Give him a look of some kind? Lars was staring into space, totally in the zone. Would he even see me? Fuck, how do those freeform jazz guys do their thing? They must all be psychic or something.

I had just about worked up the courage to change the key when I was saved by India of all people. She was standing at the bottom of the stairs yelling for Lars to take the phone. It took her almost a minute to get his attention, which made me feel oddly better for some reason. He brought the jam to a proper conclusion which I was fortunate to pick up on just in time to not be left hanging when the guitar and drums stopped. Mike had no problem reading the vibe, of course. I don't even think he was looking, he just felt it or something. We hit the final note like we'd rehearsed it and I shit you not, people cheered. Not like, screaming cheers or anything, but some clapping and a round of 'Oh yeah's'.

And then it was over. Lars was on the phone, having handed the Strat to his buddy who looked totally ready to fork over the twelve-hundred asking price. Mike was already out of his stool and talking with some guy I thought may have been the keyboard player in his band. And there I was, all by myself feeling kind of deflated. No one was paying attention to me anymore. A minute ago I was the Queen of Rock and now I was back to being just another teenage wannabe.

I quietly unplugged the Jazz bass and put it back on the rack. I figured I'd buy it eventually but just then I wanted to get out of there. Lars was still on the phone when I split so no goodbye nod. At least I told myself it was 'cause of the phone. It would have been nice to get some kind of acknowledgement. Some sign that our relationship had changed in some way. That jamming together had created some kind of 'rock and roll bond' or something. Fuck, who am I kidding? I'm no one. I don't even have a band anymore.

For once it was a relief to walk out of Rock Candy. I was trying to hold onto the euphoria I'd felt playing but it was dulled by the empty feeling that came after. I stood on the sidewalk staring into space before a vaguely familiar voice brought me back to Skyway.

"That was great, Gretchen."

I turned around and there he was, leaning against the wall next to the shop door, looking relaxed and kinda cool. "Brent!" I blurted out in surprise. "What are you doing here?" I smiled in spite of myself and he smiled back.

"I heard you were looking for me."

[Untersatz]

Galaxy City
Friday, 6 April, 2012

Galaxy Girl no longer stood proudly behind the Freedom Corps building. I'd never actually seen the giant statue in person but based on some of the postcards scattered about, she was pretty rockin'. Yeah, there's a lame joke in there if you wanna find it. The poor girl was lying on her side now, one arm punching through the roof of Up'N'Away like she finally got hungry and had a sudden craving for a cheeseburger.

I joke because it's actually one of the saddest things I've ever seen.

Brent was off looting a convenience store for drinks. I told him nothing with an expiry date but the soft drinks should be okay still. He wasn't bothered by the fallen statue or ruined buildings, but this wasn't the first time he'd seen them either. That was another thing I'd have to ask him about. Along with all the other questions he said he'd answer once we got to a quiet place. Well we'd done that. Galaxy City was about as quiet as you could get.

Getting here was pretty wild, especially since I had no idea where we were going. We hopped on the tram in Skyway, getting off at Atlas Park and hoofing it into the industrial park. He took me into an empty warehouse and after making sure no one was looking, moved a pile of old wooden skids to reveal a hole in the floor and a rusty ladder leading down. I suppose a normal person would have been wary of all this, I mean I barely knew this guy, but it was so much like being in a spy movie that all I could think was 'this is so fucking cool!'.

The ladder took us down to a tunnel running east and west beneath Atlas Park. I'd heard the city was riddled with these things but I'd never seen one. It looked to be mostly natural but there were signs it had been widened in a few places to make it easier to get around. It seemed stable enough but being slightly claustrophobic I was pretty uncomfortable. Not that I let anything on to Brent. No way. Besides, I was distracted by some of the wall paintings. Lots of pentagrams and demon faces. Quaint. Brent didn't pay them any mind so I didn't say anything.

We went west 'til the tunnel let us out somewhere in Perez Park. I'd been there a bunch of times but not enough to recognize one clearing in the trees from another. Brent seemed to know exactly where we were and quickly led us out of the woods to the shore of Everett Lake. Hey, if the citizens of Paragon want to call an acre of shallow muddy goo a 'lake', who am I to argue?

We slipped around the southern shore and climbed the wall out of the park proper. They call this abandoned stretch of streets 'Hell's Highway' and sure enough there was a posse of Hellion gangers drinking and listening to death metal. I tried to act as unconcerned as Brent did and sure enough they just looked us over once and then went back to whatever conversation they were having. I couldn't help but notice the tattoo on my new friend's arm as we walked past them. Yeah, I'm not stupid. I can put two and two together on occasion and get something poppier than a waltz.

The building south of the fountain was smokey and filled with more hellish graffitti. Seriously guys, there are other colours besides red and black. I thought of Shayne for a moment and chuckled. When Brent asked me what was so amusing, I laughed harder. He let it go and led me to the basement where a pile of sheet metal concealed another tunnel. I was beyond being surprised by these things so I followed him in and we headed west and north, eventually emerging into yet another smokey, graffitti-strewn empty office building. This one was in Galaxy. A place that unlike Perez, I didn't have authorized access to.

Score one for the bad guys.

"So how is it you know how to get in here?" I asked him later when he finally turned up with a six-pack of Pail that was surprisingly still cold.

"Is that really want you want to ask?" he replied with a bit of a smirk.

"Fine," I said, popping open a can and settling into a comfy spot on the grass beneath Gemini Park Bridge. Brent had told me that Longbow rarely patrolled on the ground out here. "How long have you been a Hellion?"

He didn't react. Not with surprise or indignation. But he didn't answer right away either. When he did it was with another question. "What makes you think I'm with the Hellions?"

"This does," I answered his answer and pointed at the tattoo on his arm. The 'Flaming Minotaur' as I'd come to call it. "I saw one just like it on a Hellion's arm last weekend. Since then I've seen this image twice more. Once was on another Hellion, and the second time was an hour ago in Perez, on the wall of that building we went through."

He nodded thoughtfully, not bothering to deny my conclusions. I figured he was ready to talk but not sure exactly what to say. Been there often enough myself. I waited patiently. Finally he looked at me with a surprisingly sheepish expression and said "I'm not exactly a member."

"So you're not exactly not a member either then," I countered.

"That sounds about right. Let's leave it at that."

"What if I don't want to leave it at that?"

"Then we're done talking and none of your other questions get answered."

He had me there. I had tons of other questions, the most urgent being 'What the hell happened to Derek?'. I was reluctant to go there for some reason, so I didn't. "Okay, then let's talk about something else. Aaron told me you'd been in trouble with the police. Want to tell me what that was about?"

Brent's expression went sour at that. "Aaron talks too much" he muttered.

"He cares about you," I said softly, not sure why I believed that but convinced it was true. Brent was less convinced.

"What the hell would you know about it?" he yelled, his face a sudden portrait of rage and bitterness.

"Don't take that tone with me!" I shot back in a perfect imitation of my mother. I must have channeled some of her force of character too because he immediately backed off and mumbled an apology.

I silently asked myself what I was doing here. With him. Did I like him? Did he like me? Why did he bring me here anyway? I'd been letting the events and emotions of the day sweep me along. That was so much easier than actually thinking about what I was doing. Am I attracted to this guy or not?

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I said finally. He gave me a grateful look. I think he wanted to answer but something held him back. Maybe he was embarassed about it. Who knew? Didn't seem likely that a guy willing to admit affiliation with a gang would balk at telling a girl about his troubles with the law. I may carry a Provisional Patrol License but he and I both knew I was no angel. We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping our beers and looking around at everything but each other.

"So what else do you want to know?" he asked after the silence got to be too much. I decided it was time to deal with the elephant in the room. One of them, anyway.

"What happened with you and Derek?" I asked casually, then turned my head so I could watch his expression as he answered. He just chuckled.

"Dude threw me around the room like a rag doll." Brent smiled as he said it. "Was pretty stupid of me to slug him. Nailed him pretty good though."

"I... I'm sorry I left." I meant it too. I'd been carrying guilt over that since the ferry ride home.

"Don't worry about it," he let me off. "It was a bad scene. Better for everyone that you split."

"Not for Derek, I don't think." I watched him closely to see if he was hiding anything.

"No, I guess not," he shook his head. In sadness? Regret? Guilt? I couldn't tell. "Once he realized you were gone he stumbled out the door calling your name." Brent smirked a little at the memory. "Gretchen! Come back, baby!" He did a fair imitation of Derek's voice but with a definite 'dumb lug' caricature. We both laughed.

"So that's the last you saw of him?" I asked after the laughs faded.

"That's the last anyone saw of him." I tried to read his face for deceit but I have no experience with that sort of thing. I generally like to take people at face value. Brent was able to laugh off the fight with Derek and that suggested there was no deep animosity at work. I doubted they liked each other at all, but that's not the same as hating, yeah?

Suddenly I didn't want to talk about Derek anymore. I didn't even want to think about him. It's not my fault he was missing. Let the police find him. I have my own problems.

Like what to do when a sort of gang member is into you. Or worse, what to do when you like him back.

[Untersatz]

Westbrook Academy
Tuesday, 10 April, 2012

"Focus Gretchen. Keep your eyes on the circle and you can make this happen."

Easy for you to say, Tran. You haven't been shouting at a pair of flourescent lights for almost an hour. I call it shouting anyway. Normal humans can't hear it. Neither can I which is another point in the 'normal' column for me. But it originates in my vocal chords and it comes out my mouth and after an hour I'm so hoarse I can barely talk. So shouting it is.

I was in the bunker for my second session with Craig Tran. This time out he wanted me to work on narrowing my projection spread. I love the language I get to use when I talk about my powers now. Before I knew what I was my friends used to call it the 'doom zone'. Now that I'm a registered mutant I get to use the big words. I can do that. Makes me feel smart. But only in here. You mess with me on the street? You're in the doom zone, baby.

The target drone I'd pulverized two weeks ago must have blown my trash budget for the term because everything I'd seen since was protected by a force field specifically tuned to block my powers. I suppose I could see why they'd do that but it definitely made the training less fun. Today's session began with a projector that created a two metre square yellow field. Everytime I hit it with my infrasonic waves the field would turn red. That was kind of cool but sort of easy peasy after those flying drones from last time. They let me warm up on that for a few minutes before bringing out another projector. This one put up a green field and didn't react to my powers at all.

The real test began when Mr. Tran moved the green field in front of the yellow one. Then he opened a hole in the green field about one metre in diameter. It was all very sci-fi looking but I didn't see the point until he directed me to project my waves at the yellow field through the hole. Sounded easy enough but when I tried it nothing happened. The yellow field stayed yellow. Figuring it was some kind of trick I asked what the problem was.

"Your projection spread is too wide," Tran explained. "Because most of it is impacting on the green field around the hole, not enough force is getting through to the yellow field to trigger a response."

"So what do I do?" I asked, pretending I understood all of that.

"You have to narrow your spread."

"Come again?" I was done pretending.

"Project your waves in a tighter cone," he answered patiently. I'll say this for the guy, he's pretty laid back.

"Gotcha," I smiled, finally understanding the test. "So how do I do that?"

"Beats me," he replied with a chuckle. I looked up at the booth in disbelief, briefly contemplating actually beating him. With a field hockey stick. He stopped smiling and spoke seriously. "I'm afraid I really can't help you, Gretchen. Every mutation is different and you're going to have to figure this out by trial and error."

Fabulous.

Fourty five minutes later my hour was almost up and I'd tried everything I could think of. No dice. I'd screamed myself nearly hoarse but I couldn't get that damned field to even turn orange, let alone red. The big yellow circle remained intact. Mocking me. I half expected Tran to make a happy face appear on it just to complete my frustration. I can't even tell you why I cared so much. It's not like being the 'best' mutant is important to me. Hell, it's a complication I didn't want or need in my life. I just hate to fail, yeah?

"Time's just about up, Gretchen," Tran said finally. "Why don't you pack it in for this week." There was no trace of disappointment in his voice. If anything I heard concern and maybe even a bit of sympathy. That was the last thing I wanted. Mock me, dammit! Piss me off so I'll get angry. It worked last time. Instead he just continued helpfully. "I'm going to set up this program so you can come here and work on it whenever you like. Or we can pick it up next week."

So that was it. Only two weeks into my training and I'd already hit a roadblock. How pathetic was that? I could see it now. 'What's your power, Gretchen?' 'Oh gee, I can make stuff brittle... as long as it's as big as the broad side of a barn." So lame! And if there's one thing Gretchen Lauder refuses to be, it's 'lame'.

"Did you hear me, Gretchen?" Mr. Tran sounded a little impatient. I suppose he had another student waiting to use the bunker.

"Just going to try one more thing," I said, holding up a finger. I stared at the two force fields floating twelve feet in front of me, an idea beginning to form in my head.

"Alright, but don't strain yourself. This isn't about force, it's about finesse."

"No worries sir, I'll finesse the hell out of this sucker." I focused on the fields for a few seconds while I psyched myself up for one final infrasonic blast. Then I took five quick strides forward and thrust my head practically right through the aperature in the green field. One super short-range blast later and I was seeing red. Glorious, glorious red.

What can I say? I hate to fail.

[Untersatz]

Independence Port
Friday, 13 April, 2012

It was a longer drop than I remembered. Even after watching the video of Michelle transforming a hundred times, there was something about actually looking over the side of the Bell-Wave bridge that hammered home the idea of distance. And gravity. If the wind had been easterly I would probably have moved back but instead there was a soft breeze blowing in my face and I felt good. I felt safe.

Are you supposed to feel safe when there's a gang member standing behind you?

Brent wasn't a full member of the Hellions. Yet. Really I had no idea what his connection with them was. It was enough to be able to escort a friend through their turf without a glance, but not enough to wear the colours. I had to piece this together myself of course, because he wasn't talking.

I'd spent a week waiting for answers after he cut our conversation short back in Galaxy. He had a way of changing the subject, to bands, school, normal teenager stuff, and I didn't seem to be able to stop him. He was doing it today too. His text said "Meet me after class, we'll talk", but so far the most intense discussion we'd had involved what to get on our subs.

"Are you okay there?" he asked, showing a little agreeable concern. Did I mention the long drop?

"I'm fine," I answered cooly. It wasn't entirely a lie. I have a good head for heights.

"Cool," he said casually, presumably to hide how impressed he was by my fearlessness. Right. Then he dropped down beside me and looked over the edge. "That's a long way down." Damn straight it is, boy. Glad you noticed.

"We can move back if you want," I offered, trying not to sound eager or anything.

"Nah, I'm good." He didn't seem bothered at all. I tried not to hate him for it. He was probably just trying to impress me. Yeah, that had to be it.

"Where were you this week?" I asked, trying to decide how to ask the questions I really wanted answered.

"At my uncle's in Boston." He shrugged. "My dad wants me to give it another week before moving back home. He figures the police will have dropped the investigation by then." He meant the investigation into Derek Joubert's disappearance. Between us we were the two main suspects, only Brent had managed to get out of town before being told 'don't leave town'.

"I haven't heard from Detective Shea in a couple weeks," I said, looking out over the bay. "I think they've given up."

"It'll be good to come back. Boston's okay but I've missed the scene here." He turned and looked at me and I was suddenly aware of how close he was sitting. "And I missed you, Gretchen."

"You could have called," I said testily, trying to create a little metaphoric space between us. I didn't want to lose myself to... whatever this was... before getting some answers.

He just shrugged. "I didn't want to make trouble for you."

"How was that going to make trouble?"

"They're watching you."

I just blinked. "Who's watching me? What are you talking about?" I started to wonder about Brent's headspace. Was this guy about to go all conspiracy theory on me?

He shrugged again. "The cops, my crew, the Syndicate. Mostly it's the police I'm worried about."

"I already told you Shea's off my ass," I answered, promising myself if he shrugged one more time I was gonna push him. Then the rest of it registered. "Who the hell is the Syndicate?"

"Some organized crime group." Brent saved his life by not shrugging. "I'd tell you more if I could. All I know is they're not connected to the Frost cartel. Or any other group I know of. They're all high-end white-collar shit."

"Why would they be watching me?" I'd never heard of them and you'd think the ignorance would be mutual.

"No idea. But you must have done something to piss them off. Raggy said they'd been asking about you."

I didn't bother asking who Raggy was. The whole story sounded bogus to me. "This doesn't make sense. How do you know anything about some crime organization that no one's ever heard of?"

"They're not that secretive. Sometimes they hire local gangs to do jobs for them." Brent didn't look at me when he said that and I wondered just how involved he was in the Hellions' criminal activities. He didn't act like a hardened thug or even a wannabe thug. Just a normal, kinda shy, kinda quirky teenage boy.

"I don't believe it." I said after a minute.

"Okay. Probably better that way." He looked at the ground a hundred metres away and I looked at him wondering if now was a good time to press for some answers.

"So do you party in the Row often?" I asked suddenly. Wasn't exactly where I'd meant to begin but it was a start.

He looked at me and blinked. "What?"

"You said you were there," I went on, "the night I got picked up at that rave."

"Oh!" he said, finally getting it. "Yeah, I was there with some friends. We were up on the second level but I could see you hanging with Lenny's crowd."

"Why didn't you come over and say hi? You must have recognized me from school."

"Are you kidding? You were pulverizing metal crates with your super-powers. I was intimidated!" He smiled and we both had a laugh.

"And then the cops came, yeah. Did you get nabbed?"

"Nah, I got out through a skylight. The cops were too busy sweeping the ground floor for super villains." He gave me a pointed look and we laughed again.

"Well they got me. I was so blitzed I don't think I could have blasted them even if I'd thought of it." My memories of that night were a haze. The clearest one was the look on my father's face when they brought me home. Like he wanted to hug me and murder me at the same time.

"I'm sorry now that I didn't talk to you." Brent was smiling again and looking at me nervously. Again I became aware of how close he was sitting and the butterflies in my stomach had nothing to do with the death drop below us. I wanted to stop thinking. I wanted to give in to the obvious attraction. I wanted to let go of my doubts and surrender to the moment.

I didn't.

A little voice stopped me. Was it my voice? Derek's voice? Hell, my mother's voice? I didn't know. But it wanted to know why I was letting Brent keep secrets from me.

"What were you doing on the upper level, Brent?" I asked him in a tone I hoped made it clear that a straight answer was required. He pulled back and frowned. I could tell he was trying to decide how to reply.

"I can't tell you," he said finally. There was resignation in his voice. I think he knew what was coming.

"Then I can't do this," I said quietly and rose to my feet. Brent watched me get up without saying anything. I could see on his face that he understood. I could also see that he still wasn't going to open up. Fine. If keeping your little secrets is worth more to you than me, then maybe this wasn't meant to be.

I walked away without another word.

[Untersatz]

Westbrook Academy
Tuesday, 17 April, 2012

Want in on a little secret? I don't hate the food in the cafeteria. That's not to say I love it or crave it or that I don't jump at any chance to grab lunch off-campus when there's time, but I've got no problem with it. It's decent, filling, nutritious food. Most days, the worst you could honestly say is that it was boring.

And then there are Tuesdays.

Today's special was pork strips and fried rice in a 'Cantonese Sunset' sauce with a side of sweet carrots. Everyone else in line was making faces and whining about how bad it was going to be but I thought it looked and smelled pretty good. A lot more appetizing than last week's 'Cucumber Medley'. After grabbing a bottle of apple juice from the cooler I picked up my tray and headed into the caf proper.

As always I sat at the first empty seat I could find. I'm sure there was a 'cool kids table' where I could claim a spot but I wasn't interested in segregating myself. My mother had taught me from a young age that tribalism was the root of most human conflict. Once you seperate yourselves from other people, you lose the ability to understand them. And what you don't understand, you fear. And what you fear, you destroy.

Besides, sitting with different people every day meant I didn't have to listen to the same boring conversations all the time.

Westbrook wasn't nearly as tribal as Cutlass. I wondered if the uniforms had something to do with that. Looking around, it wasn't so easy to pick out the geeks from the jocks, the pop tarts from the metalheads. It didn't help that your eyes were constantly being drawn to this or that student with an obviously visible meta. I could see Wade across the room. He was hard to miss. Louis Duschesne was floating by the entrance chatting up some grey girl who reminded me of Blake. The blonde boy sitting to my right might have seemed normal enough if his hair would just stop moving around.

The pork was surprisingly tender but the sauce was hotter than I liked. Everyone else must have agreed because there was a line at each of the pop machines and Richard Lo was making himself popular dispensing bottled water from his backpack. I made do with my apple juice, figuring I'd grab a root beer on the way out. Hot as it was, I was enjoying the flavour. It helps if you don't shovel it in, yeah?

"You're Gretchen Lauder, aren't you?"

I looked up to see a thin-voiced boy with long black hair eyeing me from across the table. For a second I wondered if he had some kind of rat-based mutation but then I realized that no, he just looks like that. I gave him a nod rather than say yes because my throat was still raw from this week's bunker session. I'd finally figured out how to narrow my projection spread but the Tran Man made me prove it by doing it over and over again. Plus he kept making the damn opening smaller.

The rat boy seemed nervous about speaking to me. Means he's either crushing or scared. Possibly both. I didn't recognize him from anywhere. He looked like a Freshman so we probably didn't share any classes. Maybe I'm starting to get a rep at Westbrook? That could be good and bad.

"What's up?" I said, finally taking pity on him.

"Are you really from the Rogue Isles?" he said, perking up a bit. Amazing what a little bit of encouragement can do.

"That's right," I answered. I knew what was coming next. He was either going to ask eagerly what it was like to live in the 'evil empire' or else cry about someone he knew who got hurt by a villain currently hiding out there under the Spider's protection.

"Ever hear of a school called Fayette Academy?"

I blinked. Definitely not what I was expecting. "Hell yeah," I said. "I went there for ten years."

"Cool." he said. "Did you know a guy named Osbert Batterill?"

"Rilloz?" I exclaimed, even more suprised.

"Yeah!" my new friend agreed, clearly recognizing the nickname and looking thoroughly pleased. "He's my cousin."

"No shit," I said, smiling in spite of myself. "I was in a band with him." That brought a gape to his mouth as something triggered in his head.

"You're Solstice Girl!" he cried out, raising his voice and actually pointing at me. Up and down the table heads turned to look at us.

"Solstice Girl?" I asked, although I had a good idea what he was on about. I'd just never heard that name before.

"From the video!" he nodded, then pulled out his phone out and started searching YouView. "Sign of the Solstice... by Blood Harvest. You were the singer!" He found the video and held up his phone to show me. Like I hadn't seen it a billion times already.

It was pretty embarassing stuff to be honest, but I believe in standing by your art. No matter how silly it may be. So there I was, singing pompous celtic mumbo-jumbo in a faux-opera voice wearing enough layers of black lace to make Stevie Nicks wince. And yes, we'd deliberately waited for a windy day to shoot so my dress and hair would be flowing. Rilloz and Tony were on either side of me in their heavy metal gear, laying down some chunky guitar riffs. Poor Nick was invisible behind the drums but I've always believed he liked it that way. The tune was ponderous and wannabe-epic and if anyone wanted to laugh at it I wasn't going to stop them. But hey, what do you want from a pack of fifteen-year-olds?

"Rilloz was pretty good," I said when it was over. "I miss him." It was true. The big guy wasn't as skilled as Tony but he had all kinds of passion. Hell of a nice guy, too.

"He's gonna freak when I tell him you're at my school."

"Tell him to send me an e-mail, would you ah... ?" I looked at him enquiringly.

"Oh! Silas. Silas Batterill. Nice to meet you." He started to hold out his hand for a shake but ended up just waving instead. I smiled and nodded, giving a wave with my fork hand before plopping another pork sliver into my mouth. Silas smiled back, then promptly got up, grabbed his tray, and left.

You see? If I'd kept to my own little circle, assuming I had one, that never would have happened. Still pretty wild running into Rillozi's cousin like that. Life is full of little coincidences. I even enjoyed seeing the video again. Especially with someone who thought it was awesome. I realized how much I missed that band. Sure we were pretentious but at least we had ambition.

And it was nice to be part of something.