5

Trump Card

Part 5

Up in my room, I logged on to the Parahumans Online site. After idly browsing the wiki, I finally bit the bullet and went to the "Connections" part of the message boards, and created a new account, with a new username, using a throwaway email account.

It took me a while to work out the exact wording of what I wanted to say.

It took even longer to build up the nerve to actually type the message in.

Even with the message typed in, my finger hovered over the Enter key for the longest time.

Should I be doing this from the library?

But I knew that if I got up from the computer without sending the message, I would never muster the nerve to do it again.

I hit the Enter key.

"Hey, check this out."

L33t looked up from the latest invention he was wrestling with, and frowned. "Disturbing my concentration here, bro."

Uber shook his head. "No, you really gotta come see this."

L33t sighed and got up. He wandered over to where Uber was sitting at the computer.

"PHO boards. So what?"

"Check it. A message for us."

L33t leaned in closer. Sure enough, there was a message titled "Uber and Leet".

"Noob," he snorted. "Doesn't even know how to spell my name."

"Check the message," Uber insisted.

L33t did.

Subject: Uber and Leet

Player 3 has entered the game. PM for details.

Hax

Below it was a string of comments, all along the lines of, "Oh great, another loser joins the team."

They looked at each other.

"What the fuck?" wondered L33t.

"Is he challenging us or what?" asked Uber.

"Only one way to find out," L33t told him.

Uber clicked on the username, and selected "send private message".

"What do I say?" he asked.

The message, as they finally agreed on it, simply read, "Is this a challenge? If so, name your game."

L33t read it through a few times, then nodded. "Looks good, bro."

The message was sent.

When I came downstairs again, Dad was standing there, watching me.

"What?" I asked.

"What are you up to?" he asked me bluntly.

"I … what?"

"You made a cryptic comment about there being nothing legal we could do, then you went straight upstairs. What are you planning? Because if it's something illegal, I can't condone that."

I shook my head. "What am I going to do, Dad? My powers only work when other capes are around. And I need some sort of protection, some sort of help."

"The Protectorate -" he began automatically.

I cut him off. "- will do exactly nothing. You saw them. Cover your ass mode, all the way. They're not even going to be pulling Sophia from the Wards, for PR reasons. I bet she even gets to go back to school, like nothing's happened! And if I say anything, do anything, I'm the bad guy!"

He sighed. "I know, I know. Your mother would counsel turning the other cheek -"

" - but all that gets me is bruised cheeks, Dad! They won't stop! Sophia's got nothing to lose, now. They're already really good at giving each other alibis. And now I've got a way to do something about it -"

"What are you going to do, Taylor?" he insisted. "Please tell me it's not illegal."

I looked him in the eye. "It's not any more illegal than what's already happened to me."

"That's not an answer."

I drew a deep breath. "Mr Barnes, who's been your friend as long as I've been alive, threatened to bankrupt you if you tried to have what Emma did exposed. Legally. The PRT is covering up what Sophia did, concealing a crime from the public. Legally."

I threw up my hands. "Is the law actually doing us any good, here? I'm obeying the law. You're obeying the law. And we're getting walked all over."

"Watching others bend the law is no excuse to break it yourself," he retorted, but there wasn't any conviction in it.

"It is if they're using the law to get an unfair advantage over us," I shot back. "You know what they're doing is wrong."

"I know, I know," he admitted. "But that doesn't make breaking the law the right thing to do."

"So tell me what is the right thing!" I yelled. "Sit here and take it? Wait for some villain to break down the door because Sophia said something at school and it got around that I'm a powerful Trump? Let Mr Barnes get away with threatening you? Let Emma get a slap on the wrist from the court system, because she's pretty and I'm not?"

Dad shook his head slowly. "I … don't know, kiddo," he admitted at last. "I'm out of options. I don't know what to do."

"Then let me do what I'm going to do," I told him bluntly.

"What are you going to do?" he asked.

"Better you don't know."

"Just tell me that it's not illegal."

I looked him in the eye. "It's not illegal." It was a lie; I knew it, and he knew it. But he hadn't asked me if it was illegal; he had ordered me to tell him that it wasn't. Which I had.

After another long moment, he nodded. "Okay, fine. Just tell me you aren't going to hurt anyone."

"No-one's going to get hurt if I can help it," I assured him.

We hugged; he rested his chin on top of my head.

"Just be careful, kiddo," he whispered.

I rested my head against his chest. "I will," I answered, just as quietly.

We stood there for a long time.

End of Part 5