Chapter Text
October 17th, 2016
Sophia had a bit of a problem.
Well, that was a lie. She had far more than one problem, but one in particular was standing out more than the others these days. You’d think she would have bigger issues; she was a black woman in fucking Brockton Bay , clearly she should have more pressing concerns. Her patrol hours were being docked again after yet another PR snafu; Stephen was returning home from a business trip and she was struggling to find reasons to stay out of the house for the ‘family dinner,’ she was pretty certain her best friend was actually insane and it might be her fault. All pretty concerning and important things to focus on, but there was one thing that was currently higher up on her list of ‘shit I need to worry about.’
A hand waved in front of her face. She blinked, refocusing, shaking herself out of a reverie that she absolutely was not going to think too hard about right now.
“Soph? Earth to Sophiaaaaa, hello?” Emma drawled, snapping her fingers. Sophia huffed, slapping the hand away and ignoring her friends giggles as she sat back down, having to lean over the table to get her attention. “Do I want to know why you’ve spaced out again?”
Madison huffed a laugh, grinning around a cup of water. “I can hazard a guess.” Sophia shot her a glare, pointing with a fork lightly stained with alfredo sauce.
“Not one word out of the fuckin’ peanut gallery, Clements. You’re just the damn same as me, don’t go throwing stones or I will bulldoze your glass house,” Sophia hissed. She wasn’t flushing. She
wasn’t
.
“Mhm.
Just
the same, which is why she’s been able to talk with me but
you
haven’t looked away from that table in the corner for like five minutes now.. Do I want to check and see who it is this time?” Emma asked dryly, between bites of her tiny little salad.
“Shut,” she hissed back, trying to shove the heat away from her face and failing. “I don’t know why I’m friends with you guys, seriously.”
Across the hall, someone moved, and she flicked her eyes unbidden. A senior, some girl she didn’t even know the fuckin’ name of, some useless nobody, stretched back in her chair.
Her shirt rode up, revealing a faint strip of pale skin, just a few inches between the top of her high-waisted jeans and crop top. Firm, with bare hints of definition poking through, a twinkling red belly button piercing just barely visible under the shirt. Sophia traced the line of muscle with her eyes, and the heat escaped, flushing her cheeks red.
“Annnnd we lost her again,” Emma said with a sigh, turning to look over her shoulder casually. After a moments search, she caught the target of Sophia’s attention, and turned back with a grimace. “Bad luck on that one. Mariah Tyrel, I think she’s a senior? Straight as an arrow and her brother is, y’know. White and proud.”
Sophia grumbled, staring back at her plate. “I know, I saw her being nasty with fucking Brian Encombe last week. Wasn’t planning to fucking chat her up or anything. Just... looking.”
Emma sighed fondly, tapping her hand, before returning to her meal. When Sophia had come out to her friend a few years ago, she had honestly been hoping her affections would have been returned, but for naught. Emma ticked a lot of her boxes but was sadly firmly in the ‘ally’ column. Madison had taken the news better, and even been willing to try a date or two, but... well. They were a bit too alike to really go anywhere.
These days, Sophia’s homosexuality was still frustratingly theoretical. Brockton was not a good place to openly search for partners, especially not if you had made the critical mistake of being born with any skin tone other than fucking paper-mache. Stupid fucking city.
She lived in a city where one of the strongest organizations would literally kill her and her family if they walked down the wrong alley. The PRT was tightening her collar day by day, and she was chafing at the lead, every day wishing to break her parole and just fuckin’ vanish.
And... Stephen was back. Or would be, in a week. Her mom wanted her to come by for a ‘family dinner’ and was refusing to take no for and answer.
But other than all that, she was fine! Things were okay. She had enough problems already, she didn’t fucking need any more at this point.
That shirt rode up again, and despite their conversation, despite the probable Empire ties and the girl being both taken and straight, Sophia glanced over and blushed again.
All those issues, and still, she had a bigger problem.
Sophia Hess was a bit of a useless lesbian.
“So!” Emma said quickly, tapping the table. She refocused, putting Mariah the ‘Almost-certainly-a-Nazi’s’ abs out of her field of view. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Taylor got
another
piercing last week.”
Madison groaned softly, and Sophia had to agree, even if she wouldn’t voice it. It had been almost seven fucking years, by this point, and Emma
still
hadn’t gotten over this... obsession with the other girl. Honestly, Sophia was half-convinced she was actually gay and just in denial, with the amount of attention the redhead focused on her.
Five and a half fucking years of pranks and whatever, and the girl hadn’t so much as twitched. They had graduated and moved into adulthood, and Emma just wouldn’t fucking let it go. Honestly, Sophia was of the opinion that Taylor had earned her fucking reprieve at this point, especially after that right-cross Emma had taken at the end of Sophomore year of high school. She had taken all the shit they had given her, and hadn’t so much as twitched.
Then again, ever since that fucking locker, it was a bit hard to raise the bar any higher. She honestly felt a little bad about that one, but it had turned out for the best in the end. Taylor had come back and started pushing against them, and Sophia figured that was that. No more pranks, now that they had gotten Emma’s goal of ‘proving’ the girl was strong enough.
But, her friend apparently wasn’t done. She still insisted on needling the girl, pressing her, doing her best to get a reaction from her. They had pulled back a lot on the physical stuff, and most of the girls in the school had stopped bugging the taller girl once she started being willing to fight back. Once they graduated, all of the sane people had drifted away, leaving behind childish things like pranks where they belonged. Emma hadn’t gotten the memo, even after she said something to really piss her off back in April of ‘11, and Taylor had responded with a punch that knocked the girl clean unconscious. Most people had gotten the memo at that point, that Taylor wasn’t in the mood to be fucked with.
Sophia had paid her back for hitting Emma, of course - she wasn’t going to take that shit lying down. But Hebert had gotten her thumps back in, shoving back when Sophia pushed her, lashing out when she was cornered in lonely staircases, cursing them out when they insulted her. Sophia was content to let it lie, at this point; Hebert had shown a spine, finally, and that had been the goal all along, right? She was content with the occasional glare across the hall or joke at the cafeteria table, but they had better things to worry about, didn’t they?
Apparently not, if Emma had anything to say about it.
“What did she get?” Sophia heard herself asking, idly picking at her shitty pasta. “Don’t think her ears will hold much more at this point, honestly.”
Madison had clearly checked out of the conversation at this point, rolling her eyes and eyeing her phone one-handed, ignoring them. Sophia would have followed suit if she wasn’t the slightest bit curious.
Taylor’s self image had clearly changed, now that she wasn't taking much shit from anyone. She started wearing her hair in different styles, usually just braids and shit, and had gotten a fair amount of piercings done. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad look for the taller girl; the punk aesthetic worked for her. Industrials in both ears, a row of helixes down the sides, a labret on her lower lip. Shame that she still only wore baggy sweatshirts and sweatpants - she probably had killer legs.
Not that Sophia cared, or was interested in fucking Hebert. Of course not. The piercings were just, y’know, distracting. And gross. Who the hell put that much metal in their body in a city with Kaiser in it? Idiots, thats who.
“...who’s dating Jeremy, who works at this little tattoo place down on Sixth and Crescent? Turns out, Taylor’s a regular there,” Emma was saying, Sophia blinked, shaking her head as she turned back to her friend.
She should probably ask for clarification, or just ask Emma to repeat herself. Honestly, her friends encyclopedic network of gossip was both terrifying and annoying; Emma spent like half of her day talking to worthless nobodies about shity no one wanted to hear. Sophia opened her mouth, fulling intending to ask Emma to cut to the chase. What came out instead was “Wait, Hebert has tats?”
Madison slowly raised a hand to her face, sighing. Emma blinked, confused, narrowing her eyes. “Sophia...” her voice said warningly.
“It’s just a fucking question, Ems, chill. Probably some loser shit like butterflies and rainbows with the word ‘believe’ spelt wrong on her ankle. Basic bitch white girl shit,” she replied, not at all defensively. It was a fair question! She went to a tattoo place, it had to be, like, relevant or something.
“Useless,” Madison mumbled, staring down at her phone. Sophia glared at her.
“I know your fucking PHO handle, bitch. Don’t get uppity at me.”
Madison finally looked up, raising an eyebrow. “And I know
yours
, too. That threat would hold more weight if you didn’t keep
liking all my stories
.”
Sophia flushed, about to retort, but they were cut off by the bell ringing. Emma sighed forlornly, rolling her eyes. “We’ll talk more after class? I’ve got public speaking with Professor Moors at four, but I’m free after that.”
She hummed in response, watching with a faint pang of longing as Mariah stood, smooching fucking Brian The Nazi. Sophia sighed, gathering up her tray and moving to the edges of the school.
Get your head in the game, Sophia. You’ve got better shit to do.
---
Being part of the Protectorate rather than the Wards was startlingly different. She was still a ‘probational member,’ whatever the fuck they meant by that, but the rules and regulations were so much tighter even without the extra shit Piggy added on because of her past mistakes.
The rules hadn’t changed much, but the punishments had suddenly gotten much worse. Instead of console duty or being benched, now she was threatened with infractions, pay cuts, and write-ups. Piggot dangled the threat of being transferred away over her head, and Sophia knew it wasn’t an idle joke - Clockblocker had fucked up one too many times and now was a proud member of the Los Angeles Protectorate, his name having been changed to fucking Stopwatch.
There was no more playing around. Sophia had to be on her best fucking behavior, had to play nice and talk and be a team player, or that leash would be tugged a little tighter. Honestly, she had half a mind to fucking ditch and become an independant at this point, if she didn’t know that without the protection of the large organization the E88 would gut her in a heartbeat.
Walk the line, smile to the crowds, talk like this, act like that. Being a sarcastic teen was fine, but being a sassy adult was a no no, don’t you know women need to be prim and fucking proper? You’re a woman now, not a
girl
, act like it. It was bullshit of the highest order, but the Protectorate fucking
owned
Shadow Stalker and wasn’t afraid to prove it. Sophia had ‘freedom,’ sure, but Shadow Stalker danced to their fucking tune.
It fucking sucked. Every day in that damn building was a nightmare, rules and regulations and eyes watching her, coaching lessons, sensitivity training, meetings with the PR team, and being yelled at over and over and fucking over again by the Director. Be a good little soldier like we trained you to be, or we’re ripping you away from your home and sending you somewhere else.
Fuck that. Brockton Bay was a shitheap, but it was
her
shitheap.
It was starting to drive her fucking insane. She needed to hit
something
but her patrols were docked and if she got caught taking another unsanctioned trip into Empire territory she was going to be on a plane headed west before she could say ‘valley girl.’
Los Angeles, really. Fuckin’ Piggot.
Thus, her current situation: wandering down the streets of Brockton Bay at fucking two in the morning. She didn’t have classes until noon tomorrow, so she could stay up a bit late and suffer. It wasn’t like she was going to be getting any sleep, wound as tight as she was right now. So, she had stuffed together a gym bag, googled ‘late night fitness near me,’ and wandered wherever the phone took her.
Wandering the streets at this time of night was asking for a beating or to get your belongings donated forcibly. In most places, at least. Sophia’s neck of the woods wasn’t that bad, honestly; it was a major step up from her Moms old apartment. The area was considered one of the ‘better’ parts of the city, despite how far away from the Boardwalk and all the ‘important’ areas, and that was for a pretty clear reason.
Sophia grimaced as she walked by an alleyway, between two brick buildings. High up on the wall, far out of reach without equipment, a large black spider had been painted, a cut-out silhouette on a neon background of yellows and greens. It looked like a black widow, but on its back was a bright red dagger pointed down, instead of an hourglass. The artist had clearly put a lot of detail into the work, closer to a mural than just a normal gang tag; there were clouds of black smoke hanging from the sides like mist, with various shapes peering through them. Large purple eyes, crowns, a grinning demon mask and jaws of hounds, all drawn in minimalist style.
Under the mural were words, proudly proclaiming exactly which part of the city she was in.
“Welcome to the Underside,” Sophia read quietly, grimacing.
Yeah. The PRT had offered to subsidize her rent if needed, when she told them she was moving out of her moms right after she turned eighteen. Some upscale apartment by the Boardwalk, with a sea view and doubtless a crowd of troopers in civvy clothes, who weren't there just to spy on her but certainly wouldn’t mind reporting if Sophia got a bit too rowdy in her off time.
Fuck that. She was a native, born and raised. The Hess family had lived in fucking Teeth territory up until the gang was kicked out, and hadn’t budged a fucking inch. She hadn’t felt like leaving; this was home, to her, and abandoning it to live in some ivory tower felt like giving up.
She didn’t ever give up.
This part of the city was historically in a state of constant turmoil, with a few minor gangs staking claims here and there over the years, no one holding on to it for too long. About five years back, the people of the day were called the Merchants, some two-bit gang of drug dealers who had ‘claimed’ the territory no one else could be bothered to hold.
And then they had been kicked out, with fucking vengeance, and the Undersiders had moved in. Up until then, they had been small time crooks, a gang of thieves that were regarded as impossible to catch and a pain in the ass to fight.
Skitter changed that. The Undersiders had a new boss, and she set up some fucking rules real quick.
Turns out, the city gets a lot safer when fucking up means you might drown in bugs at a moments notice. Skitters range was fucking insane; the woman’s ability to see and hear across a massive distance was without a doubt her scariest ability. No conversation was secret, no happening went unwatched. The PRT had her as a Master 8 with a couple strong subratings, and she had some scary fucking team mates to back her up.
Merchant territory became the Underside, and no one was looking to challenge it any time soon. Well, no one had been, until the Teeth had come crawling back these last few months, slowly filtering their way through the cracks and setting up shop.
Sophia looked up as her phone beeped, declaring that she was at her destination. She looked around warily, but other than the traditional broken streetlight and decent size apartment buildings, nothing much stood out. Across from her, a large building loomed; clearly a former warehouse of some sort. A sign on the front read ‘LABORNE FITNESS’ with smaller script reading ‘Always Open’ underneath. The front of the building had been refurbished, the metal doors replaced with glass windows, peering into the interior, where a few people working out on equipment could be seen.
She hummed, appreciatively, and made her way to the large double doors.
A soft bell chimed as she entered, and she breathed in, already feeling relaxed. Off to the side, a young woman sat behind the counter, yawning as she tapped on her phone. As Sophia entered, she looked up and waved halfheartedly.
“Welcome to Labornes,” the woman - girl? She couldn't be any older than eighteen- said, setting her phone down. “Name’s Aisha. You’re new, I take it.”
“Yeah. Just... looking for a day pass, maybe. Has this place... always been here?” Sophia said, looking around.
The entrance area and hallways looked spotless, far better than she expected for something this deep into the docks area. Hardwood flooring and recently-painted walls, with various posters about events happening in the area. Off to her side, she could see an empty basketball court, with the lights on but no one inside. On the other side, a door peered into... was that a swimming pool?
“Yes and no. My dad owned this place until a few years ago, when my brother took it over. Refurbished the place, really sank some TLC into it, the dork. Used to just be an old folks boxing ring, that sort of lame shit,” the girl said, shrugging as she spoke. “We’re pretty popular now.”
“Yeah... I can see why,” Sophia said, slightly confused. This was, like, professional rich people levels of a fitness area, not some no-name street in the middle of low-income housing. “I’d like a day pass, if possible?”
“Sure. Twelve bucks for twenty four hours. Basket balls are free to borrow but we need a ten dollar deposit incase you decide you want to wander off with it. Pool is only open six to ten, we’re still looking for a night lifeguard so if you know one tell ‘em where we are,” Aisha rattled off, clearly having said this all before. “Membership is fifty a month, and if you decide you want to get it today we’ll subtract the day pass from that. Cafeteria is out back, open all twenty four if needed, and we also do some afterschool programs and shit but I doubt you care. All good?”
“Yeah, seems fair. Honestly pretty cheap for... this,” Sophia said, looking around. “How the hell do you afford keeping this place open for fifty a month?”
“Operating costs are surprisingly low, or so Brian tells me. And donations. We runs some pretty solid community programs here. Free meals for kids, self defense courses, childcare during the weekdays.”
“Damn,” Sophia muttered, shaking her head. “Where the hell was this place when I was a kid, huh?”
“Ha! I feel ya. Brian - my brother, if you somehow missed that - has a big ol’ bleeding heart. Wanted to make a difference. We take care of our own, down here in the Underside.”
Sophia paused, frowning slightly as she looked at the other girl. Aisha just smiled lightly, passing her a plastic key card reading ‘DAYPASS’ with marker on it stating the current time. “Have a good workout.”
Sophia had the feeling she was going to.
---
Sweat ran down her back, as her feet pounded on the treadmill. She had the damn thing at a solid incline, working through a steady jog. A TV in front of her ran some muted reruns of BBU basketball games from the day before; Brockton Sharks versus the Ridgeway Lions. Sophia already knew the outcome - the Sharks had their asses handed to them, as usual - but she could still root for the home team even if they sucked.
She missed track. It had mostly been a cover story for her Wards activities, sure; a way for her to say she had plans or ditch the occasional class without raising suspicion, but that didn't make it any less enjoyable at the time. Running soothed her, and being on the team hadn’t been that bad, honestly. She didn’t need to like the other girls to compete with them, and winning in the occasional track meet was pretty fucking satisfying.
BBU had a track team, but she couldn’t really join that, not with the mountain of extra work that came with being a Protectorate hero. Fuck, she missed being able to let loose and just run. The Rig had a gym, but she wasn’t going to spend any more of her time there if she could help it. Every second she spent in that place was another second under someone else’s thumb.
Her mind felt wonderfully numb, just focusing on the thud of her feet on the treadmill and the burning in her lungs, the exertion of a solid workout and the practice motions of her body. The rest of the gym was mostly empty; one guy was running laps around the running track, and there was an elderly woman steadily pounding away on a stationary bike while doing a fucking crossword, unphased as anything.
So it was quiet. Peaceful. Honestly, pretty fucking enjoyable. No one had even so much as glanced at her, beyond a small nod from the man and a quick smile from the woman. She could feel the stress leeching away from her, as she worked up a sweat. Sophia was considering that membership pretty damn hard right now; she could see herself becoming a regular pretty quick, if this was what she expected.
That was, of course, when she walked in. Sophia didn’t see her at first, eyes locked on the screen in front of her as the Sharks fucked up yet another easy layup. The treadmill began to slow, leading into a cool down period before ramping up again, and she sighed as the game went to a commercial break. She was mid-sip of water when she looked around and spotted her.
Sophia would admit she had a bit of a type. A few things that would draw her attention like nothing else; a few key points that would leave her staring longer than was usually acceptable. Long hair, muscles, and height; and this woman checked those boxes with a big red fucking X.
She had to be almost six feet tall, and half of that was leg. The woman was mid-stretch when Sophia saw her, one leg pulled up as she flexed her quads, a black running shoe pressed into the firm curve of her backside. Sophia froze mid-drink, staring as toned flesh flexed across the way. The woman’s hair hung down between her shoulders in a single dark braid, and as she watched, the woman quickly wound it up into a coil on the top of her head, securing it with the ease of something complicated done so routinely it looked simple.
And then the girl did some toe touches, and Sophia had to look away before she fell off the fucking treadmill.
The next box was muscles, something Sophia saw when the woman began doing some warmups, after her stretching was done. She was wearing a simple black sports bra and a pair of short black spandex shorts, nothing fancy at all. But there was still so much
color
on her. The woman had what looked like excellently done tattoos running up and down her body; splashes of color up and down her legs, a large image across her back, collections down her arms. And when she started moving, the tattoos
writhed
.
She wasn’t a bodybuilder by any stretch of the imagination, but she was toned to an expert degree. The woman was doing some crunches, facing away from Sophia, and the cape couldn’t help but stare as those fucking back muscles flexed. Thighs almost the size of her head moved like liquid as she did squats; biceps strained against taut, smooth skin as she transitioned from pushups to a plank that the woman held for a frankly disturbingly long time.
And that ass. Mh.
Sophia stumbled as the treadmill began picking up speed, not at all paying attention to what she was doing. She shook her head taking a quick gulp of her water, then squeezing the bottle to spray down her face some. Bad Sophia. No. Stop ogling the hot lady, you can’t get yourself kicked out of the gym so soon. She set her jaw and leaned into it, pushing the treadmill up a few levels to give her something else to focus on.
It worked, thankfully, stealing away her focus as she settled back in, counting breaths. She was midway into the fourth quarter of the game, the Sharks losing spectacularly at fifty to ninety six, before a rhythmic pounding noise drew her attention. Sophia couldn't help but glance over.
The man who had been running laps had left, but the older lady was still trucking along at her insane pace, crossword still in hand and not a single silver hair out of place.
Sophia’s new eye candy, however, was laying into a punching bag like it owed her money. The woman’s hands were wrapped as she pounded away at a large freestanding bag, moving in slow circles around the bag and ducking, backstepping, or leaning every few punches. It was a steady staccato beat, as she drove blow after blow into the bag, the bag swaying with each hit.
The cape went to take a drink and ended up spilling the whole fucking bottle over her face, because she couldn’t take her eyes off of the other woman.
“I am so fucking hopeless,” she mumbled, looking down at her soaked shirt and puddle of water on the treadmill, and sighed as she stopped it, cleaning up her mess with an extra towel or two, then spraying down the handles. She jogged a few laps around the running track, keeping an eye on the raven-haired woman, who was still going at the bag without so much as a pause. Fuck, she had stamina to spare.
Nope. No. Do not think about the theoretical staying power of random hot women, Sophia, that’s bad. Regardless of how defined her abs are or how tight those shorts look on her ass.
I’m going to get myself fucking thrown out of this gym
, she thought, despairing at her own inability to look away as she jogged, trying to cool down but failing miserably. Eventually, she gave in, wandering over to the woman as she stepped away from the bag, toweling off her face. Sophia came to a stop behind her, pausing for a moment, trying to drag her eyes away from a drop of sweat running down her back, trailing over a giant eastern-style dragon that was coiled around a startlingly well done gray wolf. The dragon was staring out at her, jaws alight with flame. Sophia would have worried about ABB affiliations if the girl was A) asian or B) the ABB even existed anymore. Thankfully, a killer tattoo could just be a killer tattoo.
“Hey! Would you mind, uh -”
think of a fucking reason, damnit, and don’t you dare say something stupid
-”spotting me a few reps?” Yeah, that was a perfectly reasonable request. Ask the musclebound babe to stand over you while you lie down, abs at eye level as you do a few lifts, or stare at your ass as you do squats. Sure. That could have absolutely zero consequences.
The woman hummed, not startled as Sophia spoke. The shorter girl swallowed, as she turned, revealing a set abs that matched the rest of her, practically carved from marble. A fucking piercing hung from her belly button, a black spider dangling from a silver chain, a dark gem in its back. She swallowed, then slowly dragged her gaze up, meeting the eyes of the woman for the first time since she came into the room.
Taylor Hebert stared back at her, a look of vague displeasure on her face.
Fuck.
“Hess,” the taller woman said, voice slightly strained from her workout, her tone acidic. “What a surprise.”
“H-Hebert,” Sophia stuttered out, then grimaced as the other woman raised an eyebrow, eyes cold. “Nice to, uh, see you. Didn’t know you came here.”
“Hm. Wish I could say the same,” Taylor said, clearly bitter. Sophia winced, looking away. “Enjoying your workout?”
“Yes. Er, yeah, I missed running, it was nice to find a place open this late honestly. Just kinda pent up, you know?” Sophia babbled, still not looking up at the taller woman. Taylor just hummed, crossing her arms right under her sports bra. Sophia’s eyes traced the tattoos there; a monster of some sort, silhouetted in a cloud of green mist; a tiger, prowling angrily forwards on her bicep; a japanese-style samurai in a grinning red mask.
Quit your rambling and just fucking end the conversation, damnit!
“So, uh. Do you come here often?”
Ah, great. Foot, meet mouth. Might as well drop a ‘did it hurt when you fell from heaven’ in there at this point. She was sorely tempted to go shadow and just sink into the fucking floor at this point; anything to escape this fucking disaster of a conversation. When did Taylor fucking Hebert get this
hot
?
The lights from the gym glinted off of the girls piercings, framing her narrow face as she frowned. Sophia couldn’t help but trace them, not for the first time; a row of four rings down the shell of each ear, metal industrial bars across the tops, simple studs at the earlobes. A stud on the left side of her nose, and that damn loop through the middle of her lower lip. It caught the light as Taylors lips pursed, and Sophia was struck with the sudden desire to find out what it felt like against her own lips.
I am so fucked .
“Yes, actually. I’m friends with the owner, and I run some of the free self defense courses,” Taylor said, stepping back and grabbing her own water bottle, turning her back on Sophia as she bent to grab it. Sophia couldn’t help it when her eyes locked onto her backside, black shorts straining, the barest hints of curves peeking out from under the fabric.
Since when had Hebert been this... everything?! Fuck, it could have been for years; the girl still wore concealing clothing to school most of the time, hiding her figure. Not that she needed to - the woman looked, well, fantastic. Those long legs shifted, tattoos blending into each other; what looked like a spear sunk halfway into a mire, with a red banner dangling from it; a lion, mouth opened wide to roar; another dragon, this one with silver metallic scales and of a more western style.
Sophia wanted to see them all. Trace them with her fingers, grab them with hungry hands and taste them. See what they meant and find where they went, wandering up her legs and to her sides.
“Self defense, huh? I saw you giving that bag hell earlier. Look like you know what you’re doing,” she heard herself say. That wasn’t ending the conversation at all!
“Mh. I feel like everyone should know how to throw a good punch, kids especially. Not really safe these days, especially now that the Teeth are moving back in. Its good to know how to defend yourself, against wide variety of people. Empire, Teeth, pushy bastards... bullies,” Taylor trailed off, still locking Sophia down with that cold stare.
Right. That.
“Yeah, you. Uh. Have a hell of a right hook, Emma says.”
Taylor huffed, rolling her eyes, finally freeing Sophia from those piercing brown eyes. “Didn’t seem to stop her. She just can’t help herself from slinging shit, even after all this time. I still get shitty messages from random emails, you know? And someone put my fucking number on a stall in the boys locker room. Had to change my fucking number after that. It’s just tiring, honestly.”
“I can’t say I get it either. Emma’s - I don’t know. Anyways. Nice to -” No. Don’t say nice to see you. Just say goodbye and fucking leave before she remembers that you made her life a living hell and returns the favor!
Her brain had an excellent fucking plan. Just say ‘well, have a nice one’ and leave. Get the fuck out of here before you fuck it up anymore. A perfectly good thing to say, to end the conversation like she should have two minutes ago and save her a mountain of shame.
Her brain had an excellent idea. Unfortunately, her mouth had one of its own. Running off of six hours of sleep in the last forty eight, a mountain of stress, and a pile of embarrassment-filled attraction, her voice comes out with:
“Nice abs.”
Taylor froze, mid drink of water, and slowly turned to stare down at Sophia again. She feels heat rush to her face, and looks away, screaming internally. Taylor doesn’t respond - because how the fuck do you respond to that?! - and after a moment, Sophia looks up, sure that she’s going to see disgust or amusement or be mocked for her clearly sleep-deprived brain.
Instead, Taylor stares down at her, expression blank, clearly processing. She tilts her head to the side, and then slowly drags her gaze down Sophia’s body. The shorter girl flushes even harder, squirming slightly as she rocks on her heels, wanting to flee but still feeling pinned by the sheer fucking focus in that gaze. Slowly, ever so slowly, she eyes her from head to toe, then crawls her eyes up Sophia’s frame, before locking back onto her face.
Heat pools in her abdomen, knees suddenly weak, as Taylor raises an eyebrow. And fucking smirks .
“Thanks. So. You were looking for a spotter? Or were you just looking for an excuse?”
The door to the fitness room clacks closed, and Sophia looks over her shoulder, to see that the older woman has finished her own workout. That, or she decided that discretion was the better part of valor and dipped the moment Sophia got her foot up to the shins in her mouth.
She turns back to find Taylor much closer than she had been a moment before, just a few steps away. Sophia takes a step back, startled, but freezes as Taylor speaks up.
“Don’t,” the tall woman says, and Sophia fucking stills. Her heart pounds against her ribs like its trying to fucking escape without her, as she stood there, one leg braced behind her. Hebert moved forward slowly, expression lightly amused. She didn’t walk so much as prowl , closing those few feet of distance slowly, until she stood barely a foot away, looming over Sophia. “Not unless you’re done with your workout, that is?”
Sophia blinked, then shuddered at the implication in those words. “Uh-”
“Are you done?” Taylor asked, that damn fucking smirk still on her face. “Because I’m not.”
“What?” Sophia asked, throat suddenly dry. She stared upwards, pulse racing, breath heavy, but mind suddenly blank.
The black haired woman hummed, her smirk widening into a grin, as she stepped forward again, a foot of distance becoming inches. Sophia swallowed, her hands flexing by her side as she just fucking stands there like an idiot, completely unmoving aside from the frantic staccato of her heart.
It feels like a fucking nightmare, the kind she never wants to leave. This woman is undoubtedly dangerous, completely in control, incredibly attractive, and also Taylor Hebert . Sophia can’t combine those two facts; can’t overlap them in a way that makes the picture any clearer rather than just more confusing. Sophia notices a singe strand of hair with detached fascination; a small black curl, framing the side of the taller womans face, clinging with perspiration. She wants to wrap her fingers in that curl, use it like a lasso to pull the taller woman down to her level, feel it between her knuckles and on her skin.
She opens her mouth, intending to say something witty, something smart, something that would turn the tables and put this interaction the way it should be. She’s the strong one here; Taylor may have stood up for herself and learned to push back, but she’s never gone on the offensive. Never proven that she could stand up and show them that she wasn’t just a pain to deal with, but a threat. Maybe Emma would have backed down if Taylor had come out of the gates swinging, not just avenging.
Sophia’s the strong one. She’s suppose to be in control, damnit. Supposed to be the one who takes the lead and starts the interaction and -
Taylor reaches out a hand, slowly. Raises it towards her face, pale fingers tipped with black polish, nails trimmed blunt and shining in the light of the gym. The hand gently grips her chin, two fingers and a thumb not so much grasping as directing. Sophia lets her head be tilted upwards, being forced to stare up into those brown eyes. Taylor’s grin is gone, replaced with an eerily blank expression, a look that could be cold and indifferent if not for the fact that her eyes have blown wide, pupils drinking in every drop of sweat on Sophia’s body, irises barely a thin rim around that hungry black stare.
That damn fucking ring on her lip shines, black metal bisecting those thin lips, pressed together. Sophia watches with fascination as the tip of her tongue pokes through those lips, wetting them. A drop of sweat drips down the side of Hebert's thin neck, and she has the sudden urge to lean forward and lick it off.
Fuck.
And then -
Taylor turns and walks away, without so much as a word.
Sophia stumbles forward, suddenly unsteady on feet that had been holding her up, inching her towards Hebert as the girl tilted her head up. She blinks, confused, as Taylor swiftly turns and leaves the room, those long legs carrying her away.
“Hebert?” she finds herself calling, that - whatever the hell she was feeling sinking, being suddenly replaced by anger-tinged disbelief, as she watches the tall woman stride - run away, towards the door and then around the corner. Taylor still has that blank, empty expression on her face, as she walks by the glass windows, and then vanishes into the corridor.
She feels compelled to run after her for a moment. Shout, or something, but what the hell does she say? ‘Fucking pussy, get back here and’ - what? Honestly, she’s pretty fucking pissed that Hebert just - ran like that, without saying a damn word. Sophia looks back, and sure as shit, Hebert just ditched her stuff and left. Her water bottle still sat next to the punching bag, her towel is on the floor, and her gym bag sits off to the side, leaning against the wall where she did her warm ups.
“Fucking hell,” Sophia cursed, stomping her foot with a squeak as her running shoes hit the rubber mat. Whatever. It was just some temporary insanity. Just a bit of idiocy. Hebert got hot, sure, but that doesn’t make her any more of a loser. Regardless of how that look in her eyes made the shorter woman feel, regardless of that coiled heat in her abdomen - fuck.
Once a weakling, always a weakling. Yeah. That was fine. Nothing would have happened anyways, and even if something did, it’s not like Sophia would have wanted it. Just some bluster. Not like she’d ever fuck a loser like Hebert, of course not.
She buys a membership pass to Labornes anyways. It’s just good business.
Sophia gets the feeling she’s going to be spending a lot of time around here, for no particular reason.
---
