While my attacker was trying to get himself back under control, Galatea gave me a chilling piece of news. Preliminary Identification: Fleetfoot. It was one of those moments, in which I wished to be in the habit of cursing.

“Reasoning?” I asked in a soft voice, hopefully soft enough so only Galatea heard me. She displayed her answer on my glasses and the identification was based on overall body-measurements, displayed powerset and modus operandi. So, not beyond reasonable doubt but a substantial case could be made for him being Fleetfoot. That left the question if it had been a coincidence, or enemy action. Drugging Sophia before attacking me out of armour was an excellent plan but I was not sure I wanted to give the Omegas that much credit. Certainly not if there was no follow-up attack just about now.

Part of me wanted to tase him and attach the electrodes somewhere painful, but that was my vengeful side speaking. In addition, he had managed to get enough of his bearing to run in the right direction, away from us. He was still coughing up a storm and uncontrollably shifting tempo, so I doubted that he would be back soon.

Picking up his truncheon, I turned to Joy and Heather. “Come on, we have to get away from here. He was probably with those other frat-boys and I am out of pepper spray.” I urgend them on while pulling Sophia behind me. She was able to walk but only if guided.

“Shit, shit, shit, I have not seen anything, I have not seen anything.” Joy was walking after us, muttering under her breath, as if she was trying to convince herself. Once we left the area of the attack, I hid the truncheon under my jacket and looked at the two of them.

“I didn’t see anything, I have no idea who that was, I don’t want to get involved!” she blurted with a single breath. “I’m sorry, but Sa… a friend told me not to get involved in any Powered trouble. I’m sorry, goodbye.” I could hardly get a word in, before she walked off, dragging Heather behind her.

How curious. While Sophia and I continued our way towards my bunker, I sent Galatea a quick query to start digging deeper and within a few minutes, there was a plausible connection. A certain Sandra Ridley was a good friend of Joy Gould, going back to the creation of their social media pages, and lived in the house i had seen Voltic leave, when we had been out, placing the bugs.

So, had our little electric-sheep told her bestie about the rules when dealing with Powered, especially when seeing them out of costume? Mainly, ‘Forget about it, nothing good comes from knowing a Powered’s identity.’ a rule I wholeheartedly agreed with. Sadly, that meant that Miss Gould would have to be watched thoroughly, just in case she blabbed. She would blab, that was almost certain, but the question was how she would blab and to whom.

By now, I was not sure if the headache I was getting was from the loud music and the flickering lights, the strike to my head or the massive kettle of fish our ‘fun evening dancing’ had opened.

We managed to get into the bunker without any further trouble and I made the executive decision that Sophia would stay the night. Not that she could argue with it. I placed her onto the couch and took a blood sample before bringing it into the bio-lab, cursing that the best equipment to identify potential problems was in there. The analysis itself would be completed by Galatea, but I had to bring it in, which was a bit of an undertaking thanks to my paranoia regarding bio-weapons.

Once the blood was dealt with, I felt the exhaustion crash into me but before anything, I had to take care of Sophia. Part of me wished that the first time stripping her would have been in different circumstances, but I was not about to leave her in her party-clothes, so I carried her into my bedroom, before changing her clothes to a long t-shirt and boxer shorts, both to big for her, as it was part of my sleepwear but I had nothing else.

After wiping her face with a wet cloth, to get rid of her make-up, I slipped into bed with her and let exhaustion take me.

I woke up a little disoriented and a glimpse at the clock told me that I had slept over six hours, more than normal for me. Sophia and I must have rearranged us during the night, as I had spooned up behind her but now she was snuggled up with her face in my chest, her head using my arm as a pillow and our legs chaotically entwined. Nature told me to get up, but there was no way I would disturb her, short of going the way of Tycho Brahe.

Stolen story; please report.

Galatea had not disturbed us, so I was pretty sure that Sophia’s condition did not require serious attention, but I still reached for my glasses, careful to not disturb Sophia and put them on, immediately seeing the report. There had been something foreign in her bloodstream, other than alcohol, but it looked to be quickly metabolised and without a database of date-rape drugs or some serious lab-work, there was no telling what it had been. The alcohol-levels seemed high, but not extremely so and were consistent with Sophia’s small mass drinking hard liquor.

There was a report on Joy, she had brought Heather to their dorm and impressed upon her to not talk about the evening, no matter what. Consumer-grade mobile phones were truly useful, why bother with placing microphones on someone when they happily carry one around with them, taking it everywhere they go, even to the toilet. Of course there were limits, especially if you wanted to remain undetected, but to spy on a single person for a limited amount of time? Easy.

A soft groan, or maybe a moan, pulled me from my thoughts and the reports. Sophia was stirring and it seemed as if she was paying the price for her indiscretion the night before.

“My head hurts…” was all she got out, before flinching at the sound of her own voice. While I wanted to impress upon her that she had been stupid, I doubted that it would help right now. And I did not like seeing her in pain.

“Sweetie, why don’t you drink a glass of water or three and take a nice, long and hot shower while I prepare some food?” I asked, keeping my voice low and soft. Her answer was not a real word in any language I had ever heard, just another moan but she started moving and shuffled towards the bathroom. I quickly overtook her and took care of my business while she tried to imitate some sort of revenant. Part of me wanted to join her, partially to get clean and partially for other reasons, but no, not with her in her current state, either physical or emotional. I picked some clothes for her, nothing that would fit, simply the closest thing I had and laid them out, so that she would find them after her shower. 

Once I got to the kitchen, the first thing I made was something not necessarily good when one was hung over, but there was no way I could start to truly function without coffee. As soon as I had half a cup in hand and the other hand travelling towards my stomach, I was ready to tackle breakfast. Not terribly knowledgeable about hangovers and limited by my supplies, I prepared some scrambled eggs on toast and some yogurt with banana-slices to add some taste and colour.

When Sophia came from the bathroom, wearing gym-shorts and another t-shirt, she just looked adorable. The too large clothes, combined with her still miserable expression made me just want to hold and cuddle her, but that would have to wait until she got some food and, more importantly, water into her. At first, she grimaced but once she started eating, she did not stop until the first plate had vanished.

“I’m sorry…” was the first thing coming from her mouth. “I was stupid, wasn’t I? I just wanted to, I don’t know, not think, so when those guys offered me a drink, I just took it.”

I did not try to hurry her, or show my worry at the admission of what I felt was self-destructive behaviour. There was a part of my mind that screamed that it had no idea what to do, that someone with more life-experience needed to take over. But there was nobody with more life-experience here, just me, so I would have to listen.

“It’s just, my parents, you know. Yesterday was the day my brother vanished, one year ago. They both blamed each other, and me, and I needed… I just needed to get out of there. To get away and forget. I thought if we had fun it would work, but there was that nagging voice in my head, blaming me for his disappearance. I wanted that voice to go away.”

I walked over and knelt in front of her.

“Sweetie, I do not think alcohol is a good medicine for guilt. I actually highly doubt it. But if you feel a need to drink yourself into a stupor, do it somewhere safe, for example in this very bunker. I will not judge you, I will even hold your hair if you have to throw up, but I want you to be safe, you understand?” I asked, looking imploringly into her eyes.

She blushed a bit, but nodded.

“Thank you. But, I’m yours, aren’t I? You said so, yesterday evening, so I guess i have to do as you command, Mistress.” She said, now with a mischievous grin on her face. It was my turn to blush. It was obvious that the used drug and the alcohol had not impacted her memory, only her decision making and situational awareness.

“I mean, you did take advantage of little ol me, drugged-up as I was, dragging me into your lair, stripping me and sleeping with me. I guess you will have to take responsibility.” She continued. By now, I was glad that there was nothing flammable close to my face, or it might have spontaneously ignited from the heat radiating from my cheeks.

As I had no rebuttal, I just gave her a small kiss, before taking care of the things from last night, I had just dropped them whereever. My armlet had to be refilled and I had to take care of the stupid truncheon. I had just taken it in case there was DNA-evidence I did not want to get out on it, but I would not get caught dead with such a primitive weapon so I simply tossed it into the ‘stuff’-box, containing everything that was not yet disposed but mostly useless.

That done, I checked on Sophia again and she had finished breakfast but felt that she should get back home, in case her parents worried.

I worried as I sent her off, but what was I to do?