Interlude 1: Julia Mendez
Monday, December 28th, 2009
"Get out of the water!" I yelled as I watched the man thrashing in the water seem to get electrocuted from the falling power lines and a transformer tumbling in slow motion down the edge as the weight of it snapped more cables. It was the same water I was currently half submerged in. Then *it* appeared, a green scaly skinned head with four glowing eyes stared at me, jutting out of a wave of water that followed behind it. The water hit, slamming me back toward the dirt wall of the sinkhole, and I barely kept my grip on the makeshift raft.
Then there was blackness, and I could not breathe. I was underwater again. I opened my eyes, I saw Teresa there in the water in front of me, submerged, and lifeless, yet she opened her eyes and looked at me. I nearly gasped and drowned.
I bolt upright in bed, inhaling sharply, my heart races. Just the dream, nearly every night the same dream, underwater, Leviathan, and seeing Teresa's face. No! It was not actually Teresa; it was the corpse of some other woman I didn't know that was submerged in the water. The dream always substitutes Teresa, because I know she is down there, I saw her die and saw her fall.
My giant nightshirt feels cold and sweaty, I'm still shaking, a quick glance shows it was barely light out. A soft whimpering comes from the bunk above me, one of the younger girls, dealing with their own nightmares. Nervous and shaking I swing my bare feet off the bed and touch my toes to the cold floor. All my nerves feel weird; they always do after the dream. My injured leg throbs most of all, a weird pulsing sensation or a phantom memory of whatever the hell that sparking guy did to electrocute or charge the water while I still had my leg in it. I need something to calm my nerves.
I root around my suitcases under my bunk for a change of clothes, my last cigarette and my lighter. I hobble through the dark to the bathroom, take care to only step with my toes on my injured foot. I go in, shut and lock the door. I feel around for the fan switch, and a brief bright spark illuminates the room as my hand brushes over the wall outlet next to the light switch. Who the hell puts up an outlet light switch combo anyway? I wait a few seconds to listen for the generator outside to stop sputtering and kick back on before I turn the overhead fan on.
My hand mildly itches where it zapped me. This is only about the 11th time this has happened, the clocks will have to get reset again, at least I can try to light the cigarette again a few times. I hold the cigarette with one hand and put the thumb and the index finger of my other hand around the unfiltered end and concentrate, trying to release the charge between my fingers.
A bright spark occurs, but all it does is fray the paper and cause a few grains of tobacco to jump out, it fails to light. A second try, the spark is weaker, again no luck, just more tobacco falling out and more frayed paper. Third try results in barely a wink and does nothing, and now there is nothing left. Whatever little bit I had pulled from the wall was expended. I sigh and pick up the lighter and light the frayed end and take a long drag to calm down. A little charge, accidentally jumped from the wall isn't anything like what I felt after waking up in the water. That was some tremendous charge I felt like I could barely contain.
I pushed an unconscious Simon further onto the raft of debris, he was out of the water and I climbed out as well. Then the shock hit. My body clenched, muscles felt like they went into spasm all at the same time. At first it hurt, then it was just tingly, but I saw the fetid sinkhole water seem to nearly boil around my leg while glowing arcs trailed on the surface of the water between me and that guy who was sparking and convulsing in the water on the other side. It took only a second, but I pulled my leg out and glanced at red lines of blistering burns from below my knee clear to the bottom of my foot. But my nerves and other parts of me felt on fire. That aspect wasn't in a painful way, but in a way I can't adequately describe. I needed to get rid of it, that sensation of buildup that coursed through me. I was close enough to the sinkhole wall so I just smashed my hand into the wet mud and let it loose, grounding out whatever I had absorbed with enough effect that it sprayed and splattered mud all over me.
I stare down at my bandaged leg. My lower leg is all wrapped up from the top of my left calf and shin down to the toes. Only my toes are uncovered, which had somehow escaped the burn lines. Yesterday was my first chance to get a good look at the scarring. The doctor said electrical burns are impossible underwater. Yeah, well, Parahuman injury. Don't know how or why the hell it happened. He debated whether or not I would eventually need skin grafting but said the burn pattern was odd. A spider web of jagged lines had reddened, and blistered up, forming black, charred hair thin ridges in the middle. Yet, in between the burn lines were polygons of seemingly untouched flesh. I poked at the bottom of my foot in a few places, it's still painful and sensitive, were it not for that, I probably could ditch the crutch by now.
So far this power has been more annoying than useful. I kept accidentally draining the battery on my phone because of it, and it took a while to figure out that was happening. There haven't been many chances to figure out how to use it safely in a way that won't expose me, except hiding in the bathroom. I still don't know how much I can draw and how much I can release at a time. At the same time, it feels easier, yet less understood, less powerful, and less scary than the other abilities I’ve only gotten glimpses of.
Parahuman, primary powers: Adaptive Hacking, Simulation… Those thoughts entered my head when I first pushed the unconscious Simon on the debris raft to make more room for myself. I was still holding on to him when I got electrocuted, and something was interacting there. Whatever it was, I think it had modified itself or whatever powers I had to help me survive. At a mere touch, I instantly knew Simon was a Parahuman. At the time I didn't know if he had been already or become such at the same time as I did, mere moments ago, but I now strongly suspect the latter. I knew enough to understand that being able to identify someone as a Parahuman, even if it was only via touch, was a dangerous ability, especially to myself.
After discharging into the mud, I touched Simon's unconscious form again, not really with intent but because I was still scared out of my mind. Eidolon had been there, but wasn't paying attention to us; he was too busy trapping Leviathan in that golden sphere. Parahuman, primary powers: Adaptive Hacking, Simulation… The thoughts returned as I held on to Simon to keep him and myself from slipping off the debris back into the water. I considered that a first or reconfirmation of what I had felt earlier. The longer I held on to him the more ideas formed into my head about potential power interactions. And some very small part of that stayed with me even after I let him go and was helped into the medi-sled once rescuers arrived. That was when I was tended to by Lifeline.
It was more physical contact, and my second confirmation. Parahuman, primary powers: Pharmacology-Synthesis, Assistive Bio-reparation (mechanical). Although my contact with Lifeline was intermittent, and often short, similar ideas formed, or tried to form, with each brief brush of contact. How to tweak, modify, adapt, and unlock the various medical devices and substances Lifeline had with him or was presently using on us. Lifeline gave no indication whatsoever that he was aware of what was happening whenever he touched me. But just as quickly as those ideas had filled my head, they left after we were secured and I wasn't in contact with him anymore. All that remained now was the memory of the possibilities, without any of the knowledge to put them into effect. Unless, perhaps, I touched him again.
Somebody bangs on the door. "Rachel, are you smoking in the bathroom again?" Christy, our minder or temporary house mother yells.
"I'm not even in there!" I hear Rachel yell from the bedroom through the wall. She certainly has smoked in the bathroom already several times, she's that one I bummed the cigarettes off of. I take several fast drags off the cigarette to finish it off before I drop it in the toilet.
"Who's in there?" Christy yelled again.
"Fuck off! I'm on the toilet." I yell and flush it, while grabbing an aerosol air freshener that was sitting on the back of the tank, in an attempt to mask the cigarette smell, and the noise of the can.
"Watch your language Julia! Social worker is coming today. Other people need to use the bathroom."
"I'm taking a shower!"
And so I did, as agonizing and awkward as it is. My heart starts racing again; the sound and soft pelting of the water triggers the too fresh memories of the ever present rain and waves during Leviathan's attack. I can only sit on the edge of the tub, the bandaged part of my leg hanging out, and force myself to get through this. The noise of the fan and water drowns out my sobs and tears.
Done and drying off, I collect myself again, forcing away all the bad, depressive thoughts. I should see Simon again, if a Social Worker is coming today, I might be leaving this place, and we might not see each other anymore after that. Simon is like a lost puppy. I'm not sure what he would do with himself if we parted. At least he has reduced his clinginess lately. That counselor woman had actually asked if I felt 'safe' around him in a round-about way. Ha, even though I knew he was a Parahuman, which I guess the counselor didn't, nor knew I was, and thank God for that because I was actually worried Simon had outed me. My own power, however the hell it worked, told me that Simon's power, despite how weird it was, isn't a threat to me. Furthermore, Simon has the look and the build of a stretched out toddler. I might have been worried if he was a big bulky dude, but seeing him struggle with a backpack and single overfilled suitcase was laughable. He is mildly cute and sweet in his own weird way. The ceramic dove he gave me is nice, if a bit cheesy. I wanted to hug him, but I don't want my contact power doing something weird again. I have to make a concerted effort not to touch him, even accidently.
That first touch, a friendly handshake in the recovery tent. There it was again, Parahuman, primary power Adaptive Hacking, Simulation, Unique Energy source… That wasn't sensed before, my power reacting pulling, draining on something, and I felt that charge go over me again. Much weaker than when I was in the water but there. I concentrated to hold on to it, but yanked my hand away.
Soon afterward on our trek to get supplies, Granite had lifted me and Simon right off the ground. Parahuman, primary powers: Regolith infusion, inorganic synthesis (non-mechanical)… Again the possibilities of how to tweak, modify and adapt Granite's powers came to my mind. Then Simon touched me too, at the same time, in an effort to try and calm me down. Parahuman: Adaptive Hacking, Simulation, …
It felt like time had slowed, various ways their two power sets could work together flooded my mind. Granite was seemingly some kind of Tinker-Brute? My read said his power worked with sculpted stone and made it part of himself. That was probably a wrong description though because there didn't seem to be much technological aspect to it like there so clearly was for Lifeline. Through me, Simon's hacking power merged with Granite's power. I felt them flowing between me under sustained physical contact. One concept came to the fore, a regolith synthesis, hacked and adapted, that no longer needed to be infused to the host, capable of nearly independent action. I had to do something with this, their powers merged into something new, and begged to be released.
I thought Granite was going to kill us. I had been holding back to not do whatever I did to Simon again like before in the tent. So instead of pulling it somehow pushed into Simon. I used my powers on a kid that had been merely helpful and supportive to me, and I felt horrible about it, because I know something changed about him when I did. Then Granite dumped us on our asses and just walked off, not reacting in the slightest to whatever it was that I did to him. Simon didn't react either though. So I still don't know what the hell happened. But that small part of Simon's power that had stayed with me since the sinkhole, or perhaps the larger part that was still mingling with me from recent contact, held on to a small part of Granites as well, altered and changed. And it's still there now like a residue within me, but I don't know what it does.
I was also still charged up from earlier, but I wasn't sure how to do anything with that, and it probably would have been useless against Granite's rock skin. But then I snuck up on that looter. Simon was laying on the floor, I thought he had killed him. I hit him as hard as I could with my crutch and at the same time a sparking arc of electricity leaped out of me and traveled down the aluminum metal into the guys back where I had struck him. He collapsed in a heap.
I get dressed, go to the kitchen and make myself a big bowl of cereal and a bigger glass of milk. I've been exceptionally hungry for several days. Even when Simon kept getting food for me while we were stuck on the island, I kept going back for more when he was off in the showers or bathroom. It was stupid and vain, but I didn't want him to see me pigging out on double meals.
"You took all the milk." Janet says, her head still poking in the refrigerator.
"Mmmm.." is my only reply as I slurp down the last of it that is in my cereal bowl.
"Christy, Julia drank all the milk again." Janet yells from the kitchen.
I don't need this again, I grab my crutch, jacket and the padded shoe thing the doctor gave me to wear over my bandaged foot.
"You need to leave some for other people…" Christy says but I'm already heading out the door. "Hey, where are you going?" she yells from behind me.
"Pavilion area"
****
"Hey" Simon says as he sits down across from me at the Pavilion table with a tray of food. There had been another food truck already set up here by FEMA when we arrived. It wasn't free, but did take vouchers that had been handed out when we got here. Most of them have been used up.
"Hey," I reply. I already had a tray of food, a second breakfast and the last of my own vouchers. At least he didn't see what I had eaten in the house. He only had food for himself on his tray so I guess he either stopped trying to get stuff for both of us, or had seen that I already had some before he got in line.
"I observed you sitting over here so thought I would stop by. You don't mind, do you?"
"Nah, it's okay." He's doing that weird thing again, not quite looking me in the eyes, but more like he is looking at something else. At least he isn't staring at my tits this time. We both poke at our food for a while, mostly him as I've eaten most of mine before he sat down. I pretend to play with my phone for a bit waiting for him to say something, but that's only going to work for so long, he already knows my service isn't working. I told him over the weekend. I feel a tingle run through my finger, crap; I drained some of my fucking battery again. I need to figure out how to control this better.
"So.. uhh. You have any more cigarettes?" Simon finally speaks up, in a slight nervous hesitation.
"Turned you into an addict already? Sorry actually, I used my last one this morning, and Rachel doesn't have any more either."
"So, was told a social worker is supposed to come see me today."
"Yeah, me too."
"So we might be getting out of here I guess?"
"Maybe, don't know if we are going to the same place though."
"Yeah, I guess this is where I would normally ask for your number, and hope you don't think I've been creepy for trying to hang around so much over the last several days. But I don't have a phone and you said your service doesn't work."
Took him long enough. I shrug my shoulders and let him stew for a few seconds, while I finish off my OJ.
"So, well I did.." Simon hems a bit before I interrupt him.
"I have an email. I'd give you the one from Ball high school but it might not work anymore, but I have others."
"Oh, great. Did I tell you I found out I went to Ball? Did you know a teacher named Jerry Mondale? He was the only person that showed up saying they knew me."
"Yeah, I had him for first period history."
"Was I in your class?"
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
"No, you weren't in any of my classes. I need pen and paper."
"Right" Simon then starts rummaging through his backpack again, the same one we looted from Palais Royale on the island. He pulls out a paper, rips it in half and writes something down on one before handing them to me.
"I registered a new email online yesterday while at the game room, since I can't remember if I had any before." He says as I write down my email on the blank half of the paper. "Are you on PHO?"
I stop and freeze. Is he fishing for info? A confirmation? Does he know if I’m a Parahuman or not? Does it even matter? I don't even have a PHO account; I mean I know what it is, I've visited a few site links to there from social media, but it's not something I really follow. Should I start doing that now? Hell, I don't even know what's about to happen to my life, let alone want to worry about if I have to fit into a cape-life too. That's not exactly high on my priorities.
"Julia?" Simon asks. I took too long to answer.
"No, I don't have a PHO account. It's not a site I visit much. I haven't even checked this email in weeks." I say as I slide the pen and half-paper I wrote on back to him. I put the other half with his email in my pocket.
"You just kinda spaced out there."
"Hmm, you're one to talk. I'm just a bit stressed out right now."
"Yeah, wait here." Simon then gets up and wanders over to some older guy that was sitting under a different pavilion smoking. He chats for a bit, a minute or two maybe, then the guy hands Simon something and he comes walking back. Half way back I could tell he had a couple cigarettes in his hand.
"Hope you still have your lighter."
"Yeah, thanks." I say as I pull the lighter from my jacket pocket. At least he's thoughtful to know what I needed.
My fingers accidentally brush his hand as I light his cigarette, and my contact power briefly activates. In that brief instant I can tell whatever his adaptive hacking power or such that it was, had changed since the last time we had touched. Wait, what is it supposed to hack or change anyway? He hasn't shown, and doesn't seem to have a very obvious power set. At least nothing that was as obvious as what was revealed from Lifeline and Granite. Is that because it wasn't there or because my own power did not detect it? I had felt so sure beforehand. Knowing other peoples powers, at least felt to me like it was a principle function of what my power, or at least one of my powers was. Yet his power 'sensation', 'signature?' has changed since the last time. So now I wasn't so sure anymore.
"So I think my smoking sk- *cough* sk- *cough* skills *cough* damn it. At least I though they improved, now I'm not so *cough* sure." Simon says after taking a drag. He is doing those weird movement patterns with his hands again, although he isn't muttering like he had on previous occasions.
I'm half tempted to 'accidentally' brush his hand again, just to try and get more info, but a brief touch really isn't going to be enough. Well, I also probably shouldn't in general. Longer contact might give him the wrong idea. So if something obvious isn't part of his power signature, then what was it changing or hacking? Wait, did he change or hack mine? I'm all worried about how I used my power on him, but did he use his on me? Does he even know he has powers? How could he not know that, it ought to be obvious right?
"Somebody is walking up. observe" Simon says and mutters something jolting me out of my contemplation.
"Shit, that's Christy." Some other lady is following her. I turn away from her and suck down my cigarette in several quick breaths. Simon gets the hint and starts to do the same but is slower in doing so. I stamp it out just as I heard Christy call my name.
"Julia! You were smoking weren't you?"
Simon starts coughing, jig is up anyway, but I don't answer her. "What?"
"This is Mrs. Pearson. She's your case worker. She'll be taking you and the other girls to your foster care homes. So get back to the house and pack up."
"I'll be back to the mobile home shortly; I have to find the boys too." Mrs. Pearson says.
"What boys?" Simon asks. "observe" he whispers, he does that a lot, what is up with that?
Mrs. Pearson looks at a sheaf of papers in her hand. "Ronald, Chris, and Simon, mobile home 3."
"I'm Simon."
"Anderson?"
"Yes."
"Then get rid of that cigarette you're hiding under the table and get back to pack as well. I have to drive the whole lot of you back into Houston and I want to head out as soon as possible."
****
We arrive at the Becketts' house and start piling out of Mrs. Pearson's minivan. She hands all of us a stack of stapled forms labels 'Your Rights and Responsibilities under the Texas Foster Care System'. I assume she gave all the other kids we already dropped off the same thing but we never got out of the car for those. I could only glance through it before receiving another stack of blank forms titled 'Inventory of belongings'. My panic begins to rise.
"Is this really necessary?" Rachel asks. At least someone else begins the objections first.
"Yes, it's standard procedure to make sure we know what gets transferred in the event of a move or parental visitation, and safeguarding any valuables. Also of course drugs and alcohol aren't allowed. So empty your pockets and take off your jackets. If anyone is hiding anything it would be best if you speak up now."
"Fuck..." Rachel said aloud.
"Damn, you gonna get the rubber gloves out too?" Simon smirks.
"No, do we need to?" Mr. Beckett responds.
"Hell no, man" Simon retorts.
"Some of us have private stuff; are you going to be doing this in front of everyone?" Janet remarks.
"What's the matter Janet, don't want anybody to see your se-"
"Shut up Rachel!" Janet yells. "She's hiding cigarettes…"
"Everyone inside, Rachel, if you have anything, hand it over now, that goes for everyone else too."
Everyone gets ushered inside. Rachel pulls a pack out of her jacket pocket and hands it over to Mrs. Pearson. The four of us all get sat down on a long couch downstairs, some of the other resident kids are watching from the railing on the stairs until Mr. Beckett tells them to go upstairs.
I sit on the end, and Simon sits between me and Janet, while Rachel gets sent to a side room with Mrs. Pearson and Mrs. Beckett. Simon leans over and whispers, "They gonna find your.." he only mouths the last word, but I knew what he meant.
"Yeah…" my panic builds up again; as I eye the suitcase my father's gun is located in. It's closed up inside my mother's large wooden jewelry box, which has a latch, but certainly isn't locked.
Simon clasps my hand. He meant it as a gesture to calm me down. "You want me to say it's mine?" he whispers. Parahuman, primary powers: Adaptive hacking, simulation… It's a thoughtful, but stupid idea.
"No... It's kinda too late for that anyway. Don't think you could explain away bras and panties at the same time." I feel my hand tingle and pull something from Simon so I rip it away.
"Yeah I guess that might not work," he says.
Rachel returns and they call on Janet this time. Mr. Beckett is giving Rachel a lecture on cigarettes, the rules and search policies of staying here, and brief descriptions of upstairs, and the shared common rooms. The girls and boys each have their own bathrooms and bedrooms. We'd all get to tour it later.
What is going to happen when they find it? It isn't loaded, and there's no ammo. That Coast Guard dude made sure of that. It's an antique. I don't even know if it will fire. It probably does work, dad kept it maintained, and he wouldn't have insisted on leaving it at the house for our protection if it didn't work, despite the fact that he moved out because they separated.
How could they have done that? They could have, should have, worked things out. I thought they were getting better. Then Teresa comes home for winter break from UT, takes me shopping, and gets me into a good mood just to break the news that mom and dad are getting a divorce. I called mom. I was so angry, my last words to her over the phone was that I had hated her, what she had done, and that she ruined my life. Then the sirens went off, and my world ended.
I try fighting back tears, but still feel one fall down my face. Janet has come back out again. Simon watches me, a look of concern on his face, before he is called into the room with his own backpack.
Rachel sits down, "Hey, sorry I said I was out, was trying to save some for myself, ya know?"
"Whatever, doesn't matter" I manage to mutter out turning to the side to wipe another escaped tear away. My nerves feel like they're getting ramped up again, but I wasn't sure why. I scan the room looking at electrical outlets. Could I draw off my power, make the house blackout like the mobile home did occasionally? Use the darkness to try and hide the gun? It isn't entirely dark out yet and that would probably out me. Fuck, I don't know what else to do. I guess no one had drugs on them, or they would have called the cops. Would they do that to me? Too late now, Simon comes out and they call me inside.
My jacket is searched; I pull all my pockets inside out on request, Mrs. Pearson and Mrs. Beckett searches and inventories my backpack and my first suitcase. Guess this was why it took so long for Mrs. Pearson to come back each time she dropped off those other kids? Couldn't have been this long though, but there are four of us. They pull out the jewelry box.
"It's not loaded." I say before they even open it.
Mrs. Beckett actually pauses and doesn't open it yet. "What?" she asks.
I take a deep breath. "It's my fathers. It's not loaded, there is no ammo." She opens the box.
"Richard!!" I assume she yelled for Mr. Beckett.
"Oh good God Julia, why?" Mrs. Pearson says.
My assumption that Richard was Mr. Beckett is confirmed when he barges into the room. "I said it's my father's, it's the only thing of his I have left, jewelry is my mothers and sisters. Everything I brought here is all I have left of what my family owned."
"Are there any other guns or weapons?" Mr. Beckett nearly yells. He had forgotten to shut the door.
"No," I say too softly, because people are talking at the same time. They aren't even listening to me.
"Holy shit, Julia that's totes gangster" I hear Rachel yell from the other room right before Mrs. Pearson slams the door shut again.
"Are there—"
"NO!" I yell, "Nothing else." I hear three dial tones, and Mrs. Beckett puts the phone up to her ear. They have called the cops.
"415 Riverside Road, one of the foster charges we just received brought a gun with her…" I could only hear one half of Mrs. Beckett's conversation. "No, we've confiscated the weapon. She claims it isn't loaded, but I'd like an officer to check and handle this matter…No…No…Julia Mendez, Female, age 15, Caucasian, reddish-brown hair…"
"I'm Hispanic!" I yell my anger getting the better of me.
"Julia go sit on the couch" Mr. Beckett says, and ushers me out the door, he and Mrs. Pearson follow behind me.
"Julia, where did you even get that?" Mrs. Pearson had asked.
"You weren't even listening?! I told you it’s my fathers."
"The rest of all of you go upstairs." Mr. Beckett shouts. Mrs. Beckett is still in the room on the phone with the police. Rachel and Janet quickly run up. "That means you too Simon"
"No thanks." Simon says.
"What?" Mr. Beck asks, perplexed.
"Unless you plan on forcibly man-handling a crippled kid, I'm gonna sit right here, because Julia's my friend and I want to know what happens."
"This is not a good start for either of you here, I'm not joking, get up the stairs; young man." Mr. Beckett continues.
"Yeah, uh, don't care. So unless you feel like carrying me, you can fuck all the way off."
"You don't use that language here," Mr. Beckett turns beet red. I'm touched, Simon is willing to get himself into serious trouble over me, but he doesn't deserve this. That's when Mrs. Beckett comes out of the room; phone still in hand, opens the front door, and stands on the porch. Mr. Beckett is apparently bluffing because he doesn't make any attempt to pick Simon up off the couch, although he probably could have since Simon is so scrawny.
Several seconds go by before Mr. Beckett spies kids on the stairs and yells at them again to get going. Although no siren is on, I see the red and blue lights flashing through the window, and some young officer with a shaved head enters. His hand on his still holstered gun.
"I Observe some fuzz. Hey what the--" Simon says in a half-whisper, before cutting himself off.
"Where is the weapon?" the officer asks. Mrs. Beckett quickly opens the door to the room they searched our stuff in.
"Here, in the Jewelry box."
I see another female officer come in a moment later, glance around the room and stare at me. "You Julia?" she asks, but I don't respond right away.
"Were any of these other items stolen?" I hear the bald officer ask.
"I told you they're my mother's!" I yell, crying now.
"I don't know, she claimed they're her mothers and sisters. Yes, that's Julia." Mrs. Pearson responds.
"Confirmed, minor in possession of a firearm," the male officer says into the radio, "unloaded."
"Julia Mendez, turn around and put your hands behind your back."
"It's my dad's…" I could barely think anymore, and can't fight back tears anymore either.
"They can't deprive you of your stuff, even if it's inherited. Said so online and on those forms they just gave us." Simon had said, still on the couch.
"You need to move aside, this doesn't involve you." The male officer moves toward Simon.
"I'm a witness, I'm involved…" Simon is cut off as the officer does in fact physically move Simon off the couch.
"You want to be involved, it will be with cuffs on, under arrest."
"Just stop Simon, don't get yourself into trouble over me." I'm already on my knees on the ground; the female officer is cuffing my hands behind my back and patting me down.
"Did you know she had that thing?" I hear Mr. Beckett yell as I'm getting led out the door.
"GET A LAWYER! DON'T ANSWER NOTHING!" is the last thing I hear Simon yell before I get shoved in the back of a squad car and the door is shut.
I'm left alone for a while to stew with my thoughts. The officers are talking on the porch with the Becketts' and the social worker, while occasionally glancing over at me and the squad car. My nerves still felt ramped up. I pull at my cuffs but stop because it just hurt my wrists. Guess I don't have super strength, if I had, snapping my cuffs probably would have outed me.
I concentrate, and feel a spark jump through the metal of the cuffs between my two hands. "Fuck," I feel a burn, and smell some acrid smoke, but the cuffs still hold fast. I must have singed the seat or something. I slide over to the other side to get a closer look at what I did. Yep, there are some tiny burn marks in the seat leather.
What the hell am I doing? If I use my powers to escape, not that I know how, then what? It would be obvious; they would know who I am and send the PRT after me. Where would I go? Instant villain, until I get caught, maybe forced into the wards?
No, fuck all that. Dad got swept up in an ICE raid years ago because of some bullshit profiling. Didn't have his ID or phone on him, and it took us days to find out what happened after filing a missing persons report, and only when they finally let him use a phone. Completely legal permanent resident, yet nearly got deported. Now this, to me? Arrested for saving the only thing of my fathers I have left?
The female cop opens the door and sits in the front passenger seat.
"You want to tell me about the gun?"
No I don't want to. "Puta Cerda" is all I answer.
"You think I don't know Spanish, little Chola? Fine have it your way, we'll sort this out at the station."
Moments later the other cop gets into the driver's seat and we drive off. It's into the evening now. I watch Mrs. Pearson's minivan following behind us.
****
-- If you are reading this anywhere other than spacebattles, Royal Road, or ficbook.net/fanfics.me (in russian), then you are reading a version that was copied without permission. How about going to the original sites instead? There's a larger number of better edited chapters there.