They were already waiting for me at home. A police cruiser, black and white with light bar on top, "BBPD - Brockton Bay Police Department" emblazoned on the side. Two men inside. Besides the two humans in the police vehicle, there were also seven common houseflies, several mosquitoes, a couple dozen ants, and even a dragonfly that had somehow ended up under the hood. Through my insects' senses, I knew one of the officers reeked of cheap tobacco and stale alcohol that he was trying to mask by chewing menthol gum. The other smelled of deodorant, soap, and some feminine scent. Perfume? No, lipstick - faint traces on his collar. After all, common houseflies can detect food from several hundred meters away, which means they're pretty good with other scents too. While they're only interested in edible things, distinguishing one smell from another at distance isn't difficult for them.
Continuing with my "direct confrontation" approach, I stepped out from around the corner and calmly walked toward my house. Shopping bags in hand - after all, I'd gone out to buy new clothes, not to hang around some café with Tattletale. And despite being attracted to smart, curvy girls regardless of hair color, she and I weren't going down the same path. Screw that. She'd bring nothing but trouble... and I had enough problems of my own. Look, Mr. Booze-Breath and Mr. Side-Piece were stirring in the car.
I approached my house, catching glimpses through peripheral vision and my swarm's perception as the police car doors opened. I unlocked my door and went inside. I heard a shout: "Miss! Wait! We'd like to speak with you!"
I ignored them.
I went inside, dropping the shopping bags on a chair. I should probably change clothes. Knock at the door. I sighed and walked over.
"Who is it?" I asked without looking through the peephole. I knew who it was. My swarm's perception gave me a three-dimensional picture and even smells. So I knew exactly that Mr. Booze-Breath was pounding on the door while his friend Mr. Side-Piece stood nearby nervously biting his lip. Apparently the Brockton Bay Police Department had nothing better to do than stand around my house. Had they solved all the other crimes already?
"This is the police! Taylor Hebert? Open the door, we need to talk!" Mr. Booze-Breath's voice was exactly what I'd imagined - raspy and low. Probably chain-smoked too.
"How many of you are there?" I asked. Not that I was particularly eager to yank the cops' chain, but I couldn't resist. An opportunity like this and not joke about it... what's the point of living if you don't enjoy life?
"Uh... there's two of us, but..." Mr. Booze-Breath started, but I cut him off: "Well then, talk to each other."
A brief pause followed, during which I was practically doubled over with suppressed laughter. Come on, it was funny! The police didn't share my sense of humor and the knocking resumed.
"Miss! This is the police! Open the door immediately!" growled Mr. Booze-Breath, whose temper was apparently bubbling just below the surface. I sighed, put the chain on the door and turned the lock. I cracked the door open about two inches, and Mr. Booze-Breath immediately stuck his boot in the gap. The boot didn't fit through, but it kept the door from closing completely.
"Miss? Open the door! We need to..."
"Talk, I heard. First, I want to see your police badges and it would be nice if you introduced yourselves," I said firmly. The cops were clearly underestimating me - standard pattern when dealing with teenagers. First intimidate them properly, then the good cop comes along and suddenly they can tell him everything. However, I was going to have a confrontation with them anyway, so I started by raising the stakes. Partly to make these fine gentlemen follow their own procedures.
"Here's my badge. And ID. I'm Officer Harrison and..."
"Hold on, Harrison, I'll take it from here," Mr. Side-Piece interrupted, pushing Officer Harrison (Mr. Booze-Breath) away from the door.
"Here's my ID too, miss. I'm Detective Kralon," he showed his credentials. "We have a few questions for you. Could you come with us to the police station to answer them?"
"Nice to meet you, Detective Kralon, Officer Harrison. I'm Taylor Hebert. Unfortunately, I'm currently a minor. Therefore I cannot answer questions without my guardian present and qualified legal assistance. My father isn't home right now - he's at work. I also don't currently have a lawyer or attorney who could be present during questioning. So I can't go with you to the police station."
"Listen, Miss Hebert, this isn't an interrogation, you don't need a lawyer. You'll just answer a couple questions and be free to go..." said the detective with lipstick traces on his collar. Unlike the patrol officer, he was dressed in a regular tweed jacket, white shirt and jeans. You wouldn't guess he was a cop, though the gun under his arm and badge on his belt gave him away.
"So you're saying this would just be a conversation, not an interrogation, and I have neither witness nor suspect status?" I asked.
"Yes, exactly what I wanted to say," the detective nodded. "No consequences. Just come with us to the station. Twenty minutes and we'll send you home."
"In that case, I decline such an honor," I said, enjoying watching Detective Kralon's eyes narrow.
"What? But why?" he asked, controlling himself. "It's just..."
"What's the point? I don't particularly enjoy chatting with strange men. Besides, I don't like you. Either of you."
"Miss! You're crossing the line!"
"Am I? Am I the one standing on your doorstep trying to stick my boot in the crack? You're violating my family's private property boundaries. You're trying to take me somewhere without any grounds whatsoever."
"Either you come with us the easy way, or..."
"What will you do? Break down the door? Take me by force? Do you have an arrest warrant? Maybe a search warrant?"
"Listen, Miss Hebert, that's not necessary. All we need is to question you about an incident at your school. And if you don't cooperate, I'm afraid you'll have to face the consequences. Up to and including juvenile detention."
"Listen, Detective Carlton..."
"Kralon! James Kralon!"
"Detective whatever-your-name-is. How about this - you do what you have to do, and I'll do what I have to do, okay? And move your foot already, I want to close the door." I looked down at his boot in the door crack. Polished to a shine, as expected from Mr. Side-Piece. Officer Harrison's regulation boots were dusty, worn down and didn't look great. But Detective Kralon wasn't even wearing boots - dress shoes. Fashionable style with a dark reddish tint.
"Fine," he said. "Open the door and we can talk to you in your house. You don't want all the neighbors seeing this scene and a police car at your house."
"This scene reflects on you, not me and my family. Besides, I don't care. You can stand there until tomorrow. I'll leave the door open on the chain - after all, I have nothing to fear when two police officers are guarding it, right? You're unlikely to steal anything, though I'm not sure about you, Detective. Officer Harrison seems like an honest man." I said, enjoying watching Mr. Side-Piece's face turn purple.
"Why's that?" he asked. "Miss, your insinuations..."
"Because Officer Harrison, unlike you, hasn't lied to me once or tried to cut corners or bypass procedure," I replied. "So I can trust him to guard my door. Officer Harrison, I have a request - please make sure Detective Kralon doesn't cause any trouble while I go change clothes. Oh, and I have tons of homework." With those words, I stepped away from the door. I wasn't going to close it or hold it - the door was held by the chain now, and it would only take one good kick to open it. But I was confident the gentlemen officers would refrain from that good kick. If not, I'd have formal grounds to file a complaint against the Police Department.
Police have the right to break down doors if they have a search or arrest warrant, if there's reasonable suspicion that a violent crime is currently happening in said location, or when pursuing a criminal in hot pursuit. None of that applied here. They could have just served a subpoena and left, so I could later come to the station with my guardian and lawyer to give testimony. But no, the detective really wanted to cut corners. Get a schoolgirl to the police station, scare her half to death - for a teenager, just the fact of riding in a police car and being at the station is terrifying. Like reality slapping you in the face. Let her stew in an interrogation room, wait for the teenager to work herself up, imagine the worst and get scared of her own imagination. Can't give suspects time to think - need to take them while they're rattled, not give them a chance to collect themselves and calm down. That's why they were pushing so hard.
I wondered who had called the police. Emma Barnes, definitely - after all, she was a sheltered girl whose dad was a lawyer. As for Sophia... I wasn't so sure. For two reasons. First, she was a Ward, and any scandal involving school violence would inevitably bring up all the dirt about her behavior. Even if official agencies decided there was no bullying and it was all just one Hebert's subjective opinion, even then the shadow on her reputation would be significant. I didn't know what the requirements were for local Wards, but they were promoted as role models. As heroes and knights without fear or reproach. Therefore they cared about their reputation. And the second reason was the same one why beaten-up boys tell teachers they just "fell down the stairs." The strong don't snitch. The strong handle things themselves. Sophia saw herself as a predator and me as prey. For her, this kind of defeat was unbearable. And even if I ended up in prison later, that wouldn't be enough for her. She'd want to take revenge into her own hands. And this time she wouldn't hold back. Shadow Stalker's weapon was a crossbow - I supposed I'd have to watch out for crossbow bolts appearing in my body.
Nevertheless, I still thought Sophia might have said "I fell and bruised my knee," especially since no one saw how it happened. But Emma... there were witnesses there. Oh well, too bad, but nothing could be done about it now. I should have taken Emma aside - then I could play dumb, claim I didn't know anything, my word against hers.
Hindsight is 20/20. I'd have to play the cards I was dealt. I went to the kitchen, put on an apron and started cooking. After all, Dad would come home from work hungry, right?
"Miss!" came a voice from the door. Detective Kralon still hadn't moved his fancy polished dark-red-tinted shoe from the door crack. Stubborn.
"I'm making burritos!" I called back. "What filling do you prefer?"
"Miss! Open the door! You're interfering with a police investigation! You're coming to the station with us anyway! This behavior is stupid! You're just turning us against you!"
"What do I hear! Are the police and courts not as impartial as they claim? How disappointing. Ask Officer Harrison if he wants a burrito with ground beef, beans and tomatoes. And you, Detective Carlton, are deprived of your delicious food privileges tonight." I raised my voice, putting a pan on the stove and pouring in oil. I sliced onions into half-rings and set a block of ground beef to thaw.
"Miss Hebert!" the detective continued shouting, but I didn't answer. I'd be sitting in the station with them anyway. This one wouldn't give up - stubborn. But I wasn't going to make his job easier either. Some counter-stubbornness was rising in my chest. They thought they could behave like this? Let's see where the system would take this. If the trio's disgusting behavior was eventually exposed and everyone got what they deserved, then the system worked. Because any system isn't characterized by mistakes - everyone makes mistakes. A system is characterized by its reaction to mistakes. In working systems, mistakes prompt reactions and corrections to prevent such mistakes in the future. But if the trio's and Alan Barnes' voices outweighed everything and as usual they punished me as the most defenseless and helpless... I was afraid I'd have to take matters into my own hands.
"Miss Hebert!" another shout from the door. I winced and commanded several insects to climb onto the TV remote.
"...breaking news! The notorious leader of the criminal organization Azn Bad Boys, parahuman Lung, was killed last night in the docks area. At the time of death, he was surrounded by ABB members, thirty-two of whom were subsequently found dead. According to sources close to the investigation, the nature of Lung's injuries was not physical - the gang leader presumably died from poisoning and severe allergic reaction. A PRT source suggests a new, extremely dangerous parahuman has appeared in the city. The new cape has been given the codename 'Poison Ivy,' presumably with abilities in developing and controlling toxins." The woman in the news studio looked seriously into the camera and picked up the next sheet. Professional - she managed not to smile, though you could see her jaw was tense.
"Poison Ivy. You've got to be kidding..." I muttered, chopping vegetables. "Is this how you try to flush out new capes? Just give them stupid codenames and wait for them to storm into your studio or the PRT demanding a rename?"
"In other news, Mayor Christner signed a new program for demolishing condemned housing and providing replacement apartments in the newly constructed 'Sunny Bay' complex. The incredibly convenient location and relative affordability of the apartments gives hope..."
"Miss Hebert!"
"So persistent." I shook my head. I stirred the ground beef in the pan. Using a spatula, I scooped it onto a tortilla, added vegetables and rolled it up. I repeated the process. The knocking resumed. I wondered if the chain would hold.
"Detective Carlton?" I asked, approaching the door.
"Miss Hebert?" came the voice from the other side, and through the door crack I saw Mr. Side-Piece.
"Could you make room for Officer Harrison?"
"What? Why?"
"I want to talk to him. After all, you're interested in having a conversation with me, aren't you?" I pressed his buttons. The detective grumbled something but stepped aside, and Officer Harrison took his place at the door crack in his dusty regulation boots, regulation pants, blue regulation shirt with a gun on his belt.
"Miss?" he asked, leaning toward the door.
"I don't know what you prefer, so I made you the same as everyone else - burrito with ground beef, beans and vegetables. Not too spicy, perfectly safe to eat." I said, passing the burrito through the crack. He took it and glanced at the detective. The detective pointedly rolled his eyes upward.
"Actually, we're not supposed to take food from..." he said hesitantly.
"Suspects? Come on. I won't tell anyone. Besides, you'll be standing at my door for another hour until Dad gets back. You'll get hungry."
"Smells good," Officer Harrison said. "Why burritos specifically?"
"Well, I figure when Dad gets back, we probably won't be able to have dinner at home. So I made takeout. I'll pack everything in containers and be ready."
"Listen, kid..." Officer Harrison said tiredly. "If you know you're coming to the station with us anyway, what's all this circus for? You could have just come right away. We have work to do."
"I understand. But there are two reasons, Officer Harrison. First - I'm still a minor and my father will worry if he doesn't find me home. He doesn't have a cell phone, so I can't call and say 'don't worry, I'm at the police station.' And a lawyer wouldn't hurt, even a public defender. Eat the burrito, it's good. And don't you dare share with the detective - he's being punished."
"And the second? You said two reasons. Is there a second?" the officer asked, looking suspiciously at his burrito. Irony of fate, I thought - the burrito wasn't poisoned, even though I'd just been given the codename "Poison Ivy."
"There is a second," I agreed. "The detective didn't say 'please.'"