Aftermath

Part One: A Death in the Family

Disclaimers:

1) This story is set in the Wormverse, which is owned by Wildbow. Thanks for letting me use it.

2) I will follow canon as closely as I can. If I find something that canon does not cover, I will make stuff up. If canon then refutes me, I will revise. Do not bother me with fanon; corrections require citations.

3) I will accept any legitimate criticism of my work. However, I reserve the right to ignore anyone who says "That's wrong" without showing how it is wrong, and suggesting how it can be made right. Posting negative reviews from an anonymous account is a good way to have said reviews deleted.

Danny looked up at the knock on his office door. He frowned; Rosalie didn't usually bring around the coffee cart for another quarter hour. "What is it?" he called.

"Mr Hebert, there's a policeman here to see you," replied his secretary. "He says it's urgent."

A sick feeling began to grow in his gut, but he tried to tamp it down.It could be any number of reasons.

"Send him in."

The door opened, and a burly uniformed officer entered. He held his cap in both hands, and seemed rather uncomfortable.

Danny rose and went around his desk.

"Danny Hebert," he introduced himself, holding out his hand, trying desperately to keep this normal, make this something inconsequential.

The policeman shook his hand. "Sergeant Livermore, BBPD," he responded. "Mr Hebert, I think you'd better sit down."

Danny found his knees going to water, and he collapsed in the chair he usually kept for visitors.

"What ... is it ... Taylor?" he choked out.

The sergeant nodded. "I'm very sorry, sir. She was admitted to the Central Hospital while I was on the way over here. The attending physician declared her dead on arrival."

Danny felt his heart racing, his vision greying out at the corners. He gasped for breath. Distantly, he heard the officer asking if he was all right. Then everything went black.

He came to a few minutes later by the office clock; he had been placed in the recovery position. Kneeling over him was Fredericks, the designated first aid officer. Sergeant Livermore was standing back, watching the proceedings.

"Mr Hebert, can you hear me?" asked Fredericks.

Danny nodded. "What happened?" His voice was thin and thready, even to him.

"The sergeant says you passed out. Bad news?"

"The worst," croaked Danny. He looked up at the sergeant. "How did it happen?"

Livermore shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't discuss the situation with anyone else in the room. We're treating it as a criminal case."

Danny began to get up; Fredericks pushed him back down. "Mr Hebert, you have to rest -"

"Screw that." Danny looked Fredericks in the eye. "Let me up or you're fired."

Fredericks got up, looking hurt. Danny clambered to his feet, accepting a hand from Livermore as he did so. He found himself a little wobbly on his feet, but kept his balance.

"Can I see her?" he asked.

Livermore nodded. "I'm authorised to ask you if you're able to come in to the hospital now, to make the identification."

Danny nodded. "I can do that."

The moment Danny was in the police cruiser, with the belt fastened and the car in motion, he turned to Livermore. "Okay, we're alone. What the hell happened to my little girl?"

Livermore pursed his lips. "It looks like a school-type prank taken way too far, sir. She was shut into her own locker, along with what looks like toxic waste of some sort."

"A prank?" demanded Danny, his voice rising. "What the hell sort of prank is that?"

"The type that leads to criminal charges, sir."

"So how did she die from being shut in her locker?"

"Now that, sir, I am not sure about. The doctor will be able to tell you more."

"Okay, so what happens to the people who did it?"

"We are pursuing our inquiries. Everyone who was, or might have been, in that hallway at that time will be interviewed. When we find out the culprit or culprits, we will be prosecuting with the full weight of the law."

"So you don't know who did it."

"Not yet, sir. But so very few of our cases start with us knowing all the details. It's why we have investigative procedures, sir."

"So what will they be charged with? Murder?"

"Potentially, sir. Frankly, it may end up being argued down to negligent homicide in court, with a good enough lawyer. But time will tell."

Danny found that his fists were clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into his palms. He forced them to relax.

"But Taylor is dead. My daughter is dead."

"I'm afraid so, sir. I am very sorry."

Danny leaned his head against the cool glass of the car window. "Christ."

The still white form lay on the sterile metal table. Danny thought his knees were going to buckle again, but he took a deep breath and stiffened his spine. "Show me."

The doctor folded back the sheet, revealing Taylor's face, still and blank in repose. A small cut on her forehead had been cleaned; her eyes were closed. Her hair was arranged neatly around her head.

"That ... that's my daughter," he managed. "That's Taylor. What ... what happened to her? Why did she die? The sergeant said she was shut in a locker. Did she suffocate?"

The doctor shook his head. "No, sir," he responded. Carefully, he placed the sheet back over Taylor's face. "If you would care to sit down, Mr Hebert ...?"

Danny sat once more. The table was still there, in his peripheral vision, with Taylor's sheet-covered form on it, but he focused his attention on the doctor. "Tell me."

The doctor took a deep breath. "I believe, from the visible symptoms, she suffered a massive onset of toxic shock syndrome. There are wounds all over her hands and arms, as well as her knees, from repeated impacts with a hard surface."

"The inside of her locker," Danny guessed.

"That is our supposition, yes. She was sharing the locker with some extremely vile material containing old, rotted blood, as well as potentially pathogen-bearing insects. This material got into the wounds, and the toxins were quickly transported around the body. The estimate is that she was in the locker for the best part of three hours. This was long enough for a reaction to set in."

Danny put his face in his hands. "Christ."

He could only imagine what her last hours, her last minutes had been like; shut in a stinking hellhole, feeling the toxins spreading through her body, knowing she was dying ...

Abruptly, he bent over and threw up. Everything that he had eaten in the last twelve hours came up; by the time he was straining at bile, there was a bucket under his chin, and an orderly was already mopping up the mess.

"Are you feeling better, sir?"

Danny glared at the doctor, but accepted the damp cloth to wipe his chin.

"My daughter is dead due to a vicious, misguided, psychopathic school prank. What part of 'better' applies to that, exactly?"

The doctor shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I've seen cases come through here ... this is one of the worst. And that's saying something."

For Brockton Bay, yes. Danny knew what he meant.

He stood up, suffering the orderly to run the mop over his shoes. "Can I have a drink of water?"

The drink was not long in coming. He sipped it, then washed his mouth out and spat the residue into the sink.

"Now," he growled, "I'm going to the school.

"I'm going to get some answers."

Sophia Hess watched the police and emergency workers; some of the former were interviewing the faculty, while others were talking to random students. The emergency workers were cleaning up the crap that had spilled from Taylor's locker.

Beside her, Emma whispered, "They say she was dead!"

Sophia shrugged slightly. "Shows how much of a wimp she was." Inside, her guts were churning; she'd never killed someone in such a way before. It hadn't been deliberate, but it still sent a thrill down her spine. She didn't know whether to be terrified or elated.

Madison, on the other side of Emma, said nothing; she just watched the scene with frightened eyes.

The phone on Sophia's hip vibrated; she jumped, and then relaxed. Pulling the phone out of its holder, she accepted the call. "Sophia."

"Miss Hess." The voice was that of Deputy Director Renick. "Please make your way to a secure location and return this call."

"Sure thing, Mom." She shut the call off, turned to Emma and Madison, and inclined her head toward the stairwell. "Gotta go tinkle," she lied. "Let me know if anything happens."

Making her way up two flights of stairs to get to the bathrooms was, as always, a pain. But it almost guaranteed that no-one else would be up here. They were all watching the freakshow downstairs.

She checked every cubicle to make sure they were empty before locking herself into the last one. Then she dialled the number back.

"Renick."

"It's me."

"Ah, good. We heard about the death at your school. Did you see what happened?"

"Ah, no, sir. I was in class. Why?"

"Why? You're a Ward. You're supposed to help the police in matters like this."

"Sir, I'm not very good at investigative matters. And if Shadow Stalker suddenly shows up to help out, then people might start wondering."

" ... you have a point. Well, keep your eyes and ears open, and if you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, report it to the police at once."

"Of course, sir."

"Very good. We'll give you a more thorough debriefing when you report in, this evening. It looks bad, having someone die in a school that a Ward is attending."

"Understood, sir."

"Well, I'll let you get back to it. Remember; anything unusual."

"Got it, sir."

He hung up; Sophia shut her phone down, then leaned back against the toilet tank with a silent sigh.

Dodged a bullet there.

She found herself suddenly needing to use the facilities; she did so, then washed her hands before going back downstairs to rejoin the others.

Emma glanced at her; Sophia shrugged.

They went back to watching the police and emergency services.

End of Part 1