Chapter Text
There was a note in Sophia’s pocket, and she hadn’t put it there.
She rapidly scanned through all of her recent interactions, trying to figure out where the hell it could have come from. Her situational awareness was something she prided herself in—there was no way she would have survived as long as a hunter in this city otherwise—and it gave her chills to think someone got so close to her without her noticing as to slip something onto her.
Unfolding it, she found a few words in a precise, blocky script.
“Meet me on the roof at lunch - Taylor”
Well, that answered the who, but not the how. Was it when she pushed Hebert between first and second period? It had been lighter than usual. Didn’t notice it, which was still not good. Hebert had given her a longer-than-usual glare with her dead cow eyes after that. Sophia had just figured it was brain damage from the harmless prank she’d missed school for a week over.
She’ll just beat the answers out of her at lunch. Stupid of prey like that to isolate themselves on their own.
It was that, and not at all curiosity of what the permanent victim might have actually wanted to say, that had her make excuses to Emma at lunch and head to the roof. The door latch had been broken years ago by teenage smokers and nobody had bothered to fix it, considering how it would have just been broken immediately if they’d tried. She pushed it open and stepped around the piles of cigarette butts that littered the corners of the roof.
The idiot herself was sitting on the edge, sandwich raised to her mouth, staring off into the distance. Didn’t even look back at Sophia as she took a bite and chewed it slowly. Yeah. Definitely brain damage.
Sophia cut to the chase. “What do you want, Hebert?” She didn’t have time for this bullshit. Lunch was only 45 minutes and she wasn’t wasting it on this dumbass.
Her challenge didn’t so much as make the girl twitch. She chewed, swallowed, then called back, still looking into the distance, “I hate you, Sophia.” It was cold. Matter-of-fact. More like describing the weather than any statement of feelings.
Sophia smirked, although the loser couldn’t see it. “What are you going to do about it?” Did she invite her on the roof to fight? That would almost be entertaining.
“Nothing,” Hebert said. Of course not. Coward. “Because there’s something I hate more, and I think you hate it just as much, if not more, than I do.”
Oh, that actually caught Sophia’s interest. “What’s that?”
“The Empire. Nazis. Fascism. It’s all got to go.” This time she could hear the hate in her voice, and it actually caught her by surprise.
Nothing good came from victims acting erratically. “You’re a fucking weirdo, Hebert.” Again, no response. Too weird. A waste of her time. “I’m out of here.”
Calmly, unsurprised, the nerd called back, “There’s a newspaper and a lunchbox with five hundred dollars by the door.”
Sophia scoffed. Of all the weird-ass bluffs. But her voice sounded just as dead serious as she usually did. Despite herself, Sophia looked.
A newspaper, folded so only the third page was showing, centered on an article which a quick glance noted a ‘peaceful gathering of citizens attacked by unknown assailants using chemical weapons’. Next to it was a lunchbox. A quick snap of her gaze at Taylor, who Sophia deemed too helpless to actually lay a trap for her (at least in any way she might be concerned about), and then a flick of a finger opened the unlatched plastic box—Alexandria-themed, she noted absently—to reveal several stacks of bills, tied together with rubber bands. Not the professional kind, and mixed bills from the look of it.
Sophia glanced around rapidly, expecting a trap. Cameras. Against all odds, someone waiting nearby, perhaps. She saw nothing, heard nothing. The weirdo hadn’t even moved, aside from taking another bite of her sandwich.
“What’s this, Hebert? You trying to bribe me to leave you alone, now?” It wouldn’t work—she’d just take the money and continue—but it was an interesting new strategy. And possibly a lucrative one. The Wards didn’t pay for shit, and broadheads were expensive.
She scoffed. Actually scoffed, at her. Sophia bristled, but Hebert then added, “No, that would be suspicious.” Suspicious? “I want you to help me take down the Empire.”
Of all the things she’d expected the runt to say, that wasn’t one of them. Take down the Empire? With Hebert? What could Hebert possibly…
She looked at the newspaper. Peaceful gathering of citizens…
“...A rally.” Then the next part of the headline. “Chemical weapons?”
Hebert let out a brief snort of derision, but it didn't seem to be aimed at her so she let it slide. “Bitrex and dye packs hardly count.”
Wait. Is that why several of the skinheads in her classes were sporting blotchy patches of skin, deeply scrubbed and raw? She’d just figured it was time for their yearly bath. And Bitrex, that was the shit they put on video game cartridges so her baby brother didn’t try to eat them. Had they smelled worse than usual? Hard to tell.
She must have thought about it too long. Hebert added, “Don’t worry, there’s no dye packs in the cash. Check it however you want.” She hadn’t been thinking about it, but now she absolutely was going to check that shit before she took the money. Because she was taking the money no matter what, it was just a question of how much she beat up Taylor afterward.
Then the fact that Hebert had attacked an Empire rally actually clicked.
No way the fucking loser had somehow grown a spine without anything changing. The prank. A week off. Had she… had she triggered Hebert? A knot of ugly mixed feelings stirred in her chest. The chill air on the roof grew thin, and she caught herself taking deeper breaths, smelling cigarette smoke, but nothing else. Nothing that looked like a trap, although she’d noted and dismissed the lunchbox when she’d come up here…
Sophia’s skin prickled, her body tense as a wire. She had invited her up here, isolating herself… but also isolating Sophia. The world spun as she reconsidered Hebert’s role in it, what she was capable of, what she was willing to do.
“Are you seriously confessing to being a supervillain to me right now?”
At that Hebert turned to her, confusion clear in her eyes. “What? No. What kind of supervillain only targets Nazis?”
Sophia scanned her, her face, her body language. As far as she could tell, Hebert was being blunt and honest. Probably knew that any whiff of deceit would have Sophia beat her ass. She was completely nonthreatening, eyes not flicking to places traps or accomplices might be, just looking straight at her.
“And what do you want me to do?”
If this wasn’t about her, and Hebert had somehow triggered (with a hate-boner for Nazis, although Sophia couldn’t blame her for that), then there was still the question of why Hebert asked her of all people. Someone who regularly reminded her of her place in the world as a victim. Someone stronger than her. Did Taylor know she was a cape? She’d eliminate her if she did. No hesitation, no doubt. Nobody fucked with her, in or out of costume, and especially not her family.
Hebert paused, and Sophia started listing off places she could stash her corpse in her mind, before she finally spoke.
“You told Emma you can drive.”