Chapter 8:
– Silas –
The principal sat behind her oversized desk, stacks of paperwork piled messily around her. She gestured vaguely at the chair across from her. "Mr. Thorn, please have a seat."
As I lowered myself carefully into the uncomfortable plastic chair, I studied her expression, waiting for the hammer to drop. But to my complete surprise, she didn't look angry or disappointed. If anything, she seemed almost pleased, smiling in a way that was probably supposed to be reassuring.
"First things first," she began pleasantly. "Welcome back to Winslow, Mr Thorn. I realize your return hasn't exactly gone smoothly this morning."
I shifted uneasily in the chair, clearing my throat. "Yeah, you could say that. Uh…sorry about the fight, Principal Blackwell. I didn't really have much choice—those Empire guys came after me first. I was just defending myself."
She waved my apology away, shaking her head gently. "No need to explain yourself. We've already reviewed several videos from student phones, I assure you." Her smile widened just a fraction, a brief flash of amusement crossing her face. "Honestly, it's refreshing seeing one of our students standing up to some of our more…problematic elements."
I raised my eyebrows slowly. "Wait, so I'm not in trouble?"
She chuckled softly, shaking her head again. "Not at all, Mr. Thorn. On the contrary—Winslow is proud to host another member of Brockton Bay's Wards program. Having you attend school here is actually a significant honor."
She sounded almost eager, which felt odd. It took me only a second to put two and two together. Of course—schools with cape students got extra funding from the city. Having me enrolled here probably meant more resources, maybe even bonus money directly into her school's severely limited budget.
That explained the suddenly friendly reception. It made sense now why she wasn't laying into me. I fought back a cynical smirk. Well, whatever. It wasn't like extra funds wouldn't help this absolute disaster of a school anyway.
She continued, her tone suddenly shifting slightly. "As for the…altercation earlier, don't concern yourself. The students involved—the Empire sympathizers who attacked you—will all be disciplined appropriately."
"Disciplined?" I echoed skeptically, my brows furrowing slightly.
Blackwell hesitated briefly, visibly uncomfortable for the first time in our conversation. "They'll be receiving detentions, Mr. Thorn."
My jaw nearly dropped in disbelief. "Seriously? Detentions?" They literally tried to murder me in your hallway…
Fucking Winslow… Someone literally tries to knife you, and the worst punishment they get is detention. Goddamn ridiculous.
She winced a little, her smile faltering for a moment before returning smoothly. "Yes, well… Unfortunately, these are the established protocols we're required to follow. The school board mandates specific disciplinary measures, and we can't deviate from—"
I sighed loudly, interrupting her defensive speech. "Yeah, sure. Got it."
Blackwell's smile tightened slightly, her eyes turning briefly sympathetic. "Trust me, Mr Thorn. I'm just as frustrated by the system as you are. But my hands are tied."
I nodded stiffly, deciding to let it drop. Picking an unnecessary fight with the principal right now wouldn't change anything. Besides, if those Nazi idiots wanted a round two later, I had no issues putting them down again. Maybe harder next time. "Understood," I finally said aloud, forcing a neutral smile onto my face. "Thanks for explaining, Principal Blackwell."
"Good," she said, clearly relieved I'd backed down. Her smile was warm again, although it still felt a bit too fake for my liking. "Well, I've already kept you long enough. Better head to class now."
Glancing quickly at the old, battered clock mounted crookedly on her wall, I groaned inwardly. "Great, I'm already half an hour late."
She offered an apologetic shrug, standing up from her chair. "I'll send a note along excusing your tardiness—don't worry about it."
As I rose from my seat, ready to escape the awkward conversation as fast as possible, she extended her hand across the desk, shaking mine briskly. "Again, Silas—welcome back. And please remember, Winslow High is here to support you in any way we can."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Yeah, support—sure. As long as they got their precious extra funding out of it.
…
Sitting alone at my lunch table felt like being on display in a fucking zoo. Every few seconds, I caught students staring at me out of the corner of my eye, whispering excitedly among themselves. Word had obviously spread fast—I was the new Ward in town, and the Nazi-smashing this morning had put me squarely in the spotlight. The phone videos were already everywhere, and I doubted my fifteen minutes of fame were ending anytime soon.
Across the crowded cafeteria, a table full of skinheads glared daggers at me, their shaved heads gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
No–I mean literally… They were shiny as fuck for some reason.
They were obviously friends of the morons I'd beaten up earlier, seething with hatred and the humiliation of seeing their buddies get curb-stomped. I locked eyes with the biggest asshole of the bunch, smirked lazily, and casually flipped him the bird.
Several nearby students gasped dramatically.
I didn't care. Fuck those racist losers. If they wanted another ass-kicking, they knew exactly where to find me. The skinhead's expression darkened dangerously, but he didn't get up or move towards me—just clenched his fists impotently and looked away. Pussy.
Satisfied, I turned back to my lunch tray. Winslow's pizza was predictably disgusting, covered in a questionable orange grease and topped with some strange-looking cheese substitute. Still, I was starving enough to risk it.
I picked up a slice, hesitantly sniffing at it to make sure it wasn't secretly toxic.
Before I could brave the first bite, though, three girls suddenly approached my table. The low buzz of conversation around us died down noticeably, people openly staring again.
I recognized the trio instantly. Sophia Hess was leading the charge, wearing tight jeans and a snug black shirt that emphasized her athletic build.
Beside Sophia was a stunningly attractive redhead—Emma Barnes. I'd seen her around Winslow plenty of times before. She was a literal model. Long, fiery-red hair cascading down her back, bright green eyes, flawless pale skin, and curves for days.
The third girl was Madison Clements, petite with straight black hair and wide eyes that darted nervously around the cafeteria. She seemed permanently anxious, clinging close to Emma's side.
Without even asking, Sophia dropped herself smoothly into the chair opposite me. She leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting her chin in one palm as she met my gaze boldly. "Heard you gave those Nazi assholes an early-morning beatdown," she said approvingly. "Nice work. I'm Sophia, and you're Silas, right?"
I raised an eyebrow, unable to keep myself from smirking a bit. "Yeah, well… it felt like they were practically stalking me this morning," I said casually, putting clear emphasis on 'stalking.'
Sophia's eyes widened slightly for just an instant, surprise flashing briefly across her face. She knew exactly what I was implying—I was letting her know I knew precisely who she was. Rather than looking alarmed or pissed off, though, her grin only widened, turning cockier.
"Damn," she murmured appreciatively. "That's metal as fuck, honestly. Kinda pissed I missed seeing it myself."
I chuckled softly, taking a bite of the awful pizza and swallowing with some difficulty before I shot her a teasing look. "Well, there's always next time," I said lightly. "You know, if you think you can keep up."
She laughed openly at that, eyes narrowing with challenge. "Trust me, I think you'll find I can more than keep up."
Behind her, Emma and Madison slid into seats beside Sophia, clearly eager to join in.
Emma leaned toward me slightly, brushing her red hair over one shoulder. Her voice was smooth and flirtatious. "I don't think we've officially met yet. I'm Emma Barnes."
"Silas Thorn," I replied, giving her a polite nod. "Though I'm guessing you probably already know that."
She laughed gently, her eyes glittering playfully. "Hard not to. You're the hottest topic in school today."
Madison cleared her throat quietly, clearly gathering courage to speak up. Her voice was soft and hesitant. "And I'm Madison. Sorry if we're intruding… but Sophia insisted we come say hi."
"Nah, you're fine," I reassured her. "Honestly, I'd rather deal with some friendly conversation than just sit here alone getting stared at like a freakshow."
Emma flashed me a dazzling grin. "Oh, trust me, Silas. Nobody here thinks you're a freakshow. You practically have a fan club after what you pulled this morning. People here are starved for heroes, after all."
I snorted quietly, shaking my head in mild disbelief. "A fan club, seriously? That's gotta be an exaggeration."
Sophia leaned back casually in her chair, folding her arms and looking smugly amused. "Not even close. Face it, hero—after the videos went up, you're officially Winslow royalty now."
I rolled my eyes at that.
Emma giggled, clearly entertained by my dry humor. "Oh, it's not all bad. Just means you get the perks, too. Like, say, having lunch with three of Winslow's finest?" She tilted her head slightly, green eyes practically daring me to deny it.
"And what exactly makes you three the finest?" I took her bait.
Emma didn't miss a beat, tossing her hair back confidently. "Simple. We're smart, we're funny, and let's be real—we're hot." She gestured to herself and her friends, utterly unapologetic. "What's not to love about us?"
'That you're all kinda of bitches and bullies…' I thought to myself.
Although that was in canon. I had memories of them bullying Taylor Hebert here, but the "locker incident" had never happened to my knowledge so I supposed I could give them a chance. If they cut that shit out…
Sophia just rolled her eyes, smirking knowingly as Madison blushed furiously beside them. "Ignore Emma," Sophia drawled sarcastically. "She thinks subtlety is a dirty word."
Emma shrugged, completely unbothered. "Subtlety is overrated."
I couldn't help but laugh quietly. Damn, I had to give these three props. They seemed like totally normal girls from the outside.
Sophia caught my eye again, her voice lowering slightly, leaning forward and whispering. "Seriously, though—I'm impressed, Silas. Most new Wards I've seen are too cautious or too soft to throw down like you did. Especially not openly without a mask."
I matched her cocky grin with one of my own, shrugging casually. "Maybe I'm not like most Wards."
Sophia's dark eyes sparkled dangerously, excitement flaring clearly in them. "Good," she practically purred. "I fucking hope not."
I swallowed, heart rate picking up slightly under the intensity of her stare. Fuck—Shadow Stalker was definitely trouble…
Emma leaned in again smoothly, breaking the tension. "Anyway, Silas," she said sweetly, lightly placing her fingertips on my arm. Her touch was deliberate, and I noticed Sophia's eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly. "If you ever want a break, I can show you around town. I'm an excellent tour guide."
Sophia glared briefly, looking almost territorial for a split-second before she masked it expertly. Interesting…
I laughed quietly, enjoying this entirely too much. "I'll have to take a raincheck for now. I think I'll be pretty busy being a hero and all for the next few weeks…"
She pouted at me.
Sophia muttered something unintelligible under her breath, glaring daggers at her friend.
– Taylor –
Taylor clenched her fists beneath the table, her knuckles white as she stared venomously across the crowded cafeteria. From her lonely corner spot, partially hidden behind a pillar and tucked away from most prying eyes, she watched helplessly as those three awful, manipulative bitches—Emma, Sophia, and Madison—surrounded Winslow's newly famous Ward, Silas Thorn, like vultures.
"Fucking typical," she whispered bitterly to herself. "Just fucking typical."
She'd spent the entire morning hoping—praying—that the rumors buzzing through the halls about Silas were true. They said he'd beaten down half a dozen Nazi scumbags without even breaking a sweat. Even better, the gossip confirmed that he was openly a hero—a genuine good guy who wasn't afraid to stand up to the bullies and assholes that infested every corridor of this hellhole school. After years of torment, Taylor finally dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, someone with actual power could clean up the toxic mess at Winslow High.
But of course—of fucking course—those three had already swooped in first.
Taylor felt sick watching Emma slide closer to Silas, batting her long eyelashes shamelessly and giggling at whatever he said. Beside her, Madison nodded enthusiastically, the perfect obedient sidekick, and Sophia leaned forward confidently, clearly trying to dominate the conversation. Sophia Hess, the alpha bitch herself, smirked and laughed with Silas like they were already the closest friends.
Taylor bit her lip fiercely, tasting the faint copper tang of blood. Anger coiled tight inside her gut. It just wasn't fair. She'd planned to approach Silas today—introduce herself, warn him, beg him not to fall for their games. She'd rehearsed it in her head a dozen times, desperately psyching herself up, trying to convince herself she could be brave enough.
Yet once again, the three of them managed to shove her plans aside effortlessly, always one step ahead. They always stole everything from her. Her dignity, her confidence, her happiness. Now they were trying to take away the first shred of hope she'd felt in years.
Taylor's gaze softened slightly, though, as she continued to quietly watch Silas. He didn't look entirely comfortable surrounded by the trio. Sure, he smiled politely and laughed occasionally, but there were small signs if you knew how to spot them—how he shifted subtly in his chair whenever Emma touched his arm too familiarly. The guarded hesitation in his eyes whenever Sophia leaned in too aggressively.
He clearly wasn't entirely buying their bullshit!
'That made sense,' Taylor realized with a slight spark of optimism. Silas had been a student at Winslow long before he'd become some famous cape, after all. He knew exactly what kind of people Emma, Sophia, and Madison were beneath their pretty façades.
She took a shaky breath, steeling herself. If Silas was already suspicious of their act, that meant there was still hope. Taylor just had to talk to him first—warn him, before he fell too far under their spell.
Even back before he became a hero, when everyone else either ignored her or laughed at her suffering, Silas had been different. He'd never joined in on the teasing or torment. Whenever their paths crossed, he'd quietly nodded, maybe given her a faint, sympathetic smile, just enough to let her know someone noticed her pain—even if they'd never actually talked much.
That mattered. That counted! She knew she could be a far better friend than those three manipulative bitches!
She just had to approach him—just had to talk to him, to say anything at all.
The instant she thought it, though, her stomach knotted painfully, anxiety flaring to life again. Taylor cursed silently, hating how quickly her old fears clawed back into her heart, filling her chest with familiar, paralyzing self-doubt. It wasn't fair—Emma and Sophia had done that to her too, chipped away at her confidence day after day until she could barely string two words together around strangers without panicking.
But she couldn't keep living like this!
Taylor sucked in a deep breath, forced herself to slowly exhale, and silently made herself a promise.
'Tomorrow,' she thought resolutely. 'Tomorrow I'll approach him. No excuses this time.'
– Silas –
Those three girls were good. I had to give them credit for that—Sophia Hess, Emma Barnes, and Madison Clements. They'd mastered the art of playing it casual and friendly.
Still, I'd be lying to myself if I said they weren't ridiculously hot, Sophia and Emma especially.
Shadow Stalker being into me—that was definitely an interesting turn of events. Although after she'd practically dragged me off to the gym with her last night and flirted openly, I'd had a pretty strong suspicion about that.
Still, I wasn't some naive idiot who'd let himself get manipulated by a pretty face and a hot body…
Usually.
Most of the time, anyway…
Maybe.
I shook my head sharply, chuckling quietly to myself. No. Fuck that. I'd hold firm! Unless I saw clear evidence they had genuinely changed, I wouldn't let them lead me around like some dumbass.
Lunch was fine, a little conversation never hurt anyone—but anything beyond that? I'd have to play it safe and watch carefully. And judging by the knowing smiles they'd shot my way as lunch ended, I had a sneaking suspicion those three might be regular additions at my table from now on.
When the final bell rang for me, signaling my half-day of schooling was over—one of the many perks of officially joining the Wards—I stood and headed quickly toward the exit, shrugging on my jacket as I stepped out of the stale, cramped hallways of Winslow and into fresh air.
The sky above was cloudy gray, thick and oppressive, but at least it wasn't raining yet. Honestly, after Skyrim's harsh weather, Brockton Bay's gloom didn't feel all that bad.
Parked conspicuously at the curb directly in front of the school entrance, a black, clearly marked PRT van awaited me. Two agents, uniformed in full gear and looking bored out of their minds, leaned against its side.
I felt a brief stab of disappointment when I realized Miss Militia wasn't the one picking me up again. Riding behind her on that motorcycle had definitely been the highlight of my morning, despite the embarrassing moment of me getting hard.
I sighed softly.
I really needed to get my own wheels. That was officially first on my list of things to spend my first paycheck on.
One of the agents straightened up as I approached, nodding in greeting. "Afternoon, kid. Ready to head back to the Rig?"
"Actually," I paused thoughtfully, shifting my PRT issued backpack over my shoulder. "Could we stop by the Dallon residence first? I have something I need to discuss with Carol Dallon—legal stuff, about officially joining the Wards."
Panacea's there too, and I owe her a conversation…
He raised an eyebrow, clearly indifferent. "Sure. One second."
He turned aside and muttered something into his radio. There was a short pause before he nodded again. "You're cleared. Hop in."
I climbed into the back of the van, taking one of the hard plastic seats and buckling in. As we pulled away from Winslow, I let out a deep breath and leaned back, staring at the passing buildings and trying to mentally prepare myself for the upcoming conversation. I had Amy's costume in my inventory, along with the Flames spell tome I'd decided she might appreciate. I was curious how she'd react when I showed them to her.
Honestly, I had no clue what Amy thought about our strange adventure together—or about me personally. The almost-threesome back in Skyrim had ended before anything significant actually happened, but the tension had been there.
Amy had seemed just as into it as I had been at the time, but maybe she'd reconsidered since coming home and thinking it over?
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Hopefully, this meeting wouldn't be too awkward.
But first things first—Carol Dallon. I absolutely needed a skilled lawyer to look over my Wards contract thoroughly. If canon knowledge held up at all, Carol would be a solid choice. She might be cold, stern, and sometimes outright abrasive, but she was also highly competent.
The drive passed quickly enough, and soon we pulled up in front of the Dallon household—a nice, comfortable home in a relatively quiet suburb of Brockton Bay. One of the agents nodded at me through the rear-view mirror. "We'll wait out here. Take your time."
"Thanks," I said, climbing out and approaching the door. My heart thumped just a bit faster as I knocked, waiting nervously.
The door opened almost immediately, revealing Victoria Dallon standing there.
'Holy shit, she is sexy!' …Was all I could think to myself.
She was wearing a loose white tank top that clung suggestively to her curves, the thin material barely hiding the generous swell of her breasts. My eyes couldn't help but drift lower, tracing the subtle outline beneath the fabric before moving downward. Her toned, flat stomach peeked out teasingly, revealing just a hint of smooth skin above a pair of incredibly short denim shorts. Those shorts clung to her hips in a way that showcased every graceful line of her slim, athletic figure—and those legs. Goddamn. Her legs went on for days…
Realizing I'd been blatantly staring for a good ten seconds, my face grew hot.
Before I could awkwardly avert my gaze, though, Victoria's bright blue eyes shined with amusement, and she gave me a teasing wink. "You like what you see, huh?" she giggled softly. Then, leaning forward slightly so only I could hear her, she whispered mischievously, "Amy's going to be sooo jealous..."
I was embarrassed I'd been caught staring so openly. "Shit—sorry," I said hastily, running a hand nervously through my hair. "Didn't mean to just stare like that."
She laughed gently, leaning in even closer. Her voice dropped to a low, her warm breath brushing against my ear in a way that sent a small thrill down my spine. "Relax. I'm totally used to it. And honestly…?" She paused just long enough to heighten the tension before finishing her thought, "You can look all you want, handsome."
I swallowed hard. Goddamn, she was dangerous.
Before I could formulate any coherent reply, she leaned back smoothly and gestured for me to enter, stepping aside gracefully to let me pass. She hadn't even asked why I was here—she just invited me inside without hesitation.
"Come on in, Silas," she said cheerfully. Then, raising her voice, she shouted dramatically towards the stairs, "Amy! Your boyfriend's here!"
I heard a shriek of confusion from upstairs…
My eyes widened in surprise at her declaration, and I coughed awkwardly, clearing my throat.
Victoria just grinned wider. She shut the door behind us and turned casually back toward me, folding her arms loosely beneath her chest. "Amy and I skipped school today. Mom gave us a pass since Amy just got back from your little fantasy adventure. Which, by the way—" her eyes narrowed playfully, clearly feigning indignation, "—I'm insanely jealous about! You two got to fight dragons and meet elves! Not fair..."
"Trust me, it wasn't exactly a fun vacation. It was dangerous…" I told her.
Vicky waved away my protest. "Please. You're talking to Glory Girl here. Danger is literally my thing." She leaned closer again, tilting her head playfully and fluttering her long eyelashes at me. Her voice lowered seductively. "Next time, take me instead. I promise I'll make the trip worth your while…"
Caught off guard by her boldness, I hesitated, scrambling to come up with some coherent response. "Uh, well... the thing is, Vicky—it's not exactly something I can control yet. The adventure kind of just happened randomly. Spur-of-the-moment type thing."
Her lips formed a playful pout, clearly not entirely satisfied with my explanation. "Awww. Shame. But…" she cocked her head slightly, eyeing me carefully, "…if your powers ever let you pick your teammates ahead of time…?"
I paused awkwardly, knowing full well how weak my response sounded. "Then, um—I'll definitely consider it?" I immediately winced at myself.
Smooth, Silas. Real fucking smooth.
Instead of looking disappointed, though, Vicky just laughed brightly, completely unbothered. "Oh, I'll take that! A weak maybe is still better than nothing!"
"Silas…" came a tired voice from the top of the stairs…
Amy slowly descended the staircase toward us, dressed casually in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. Her dark red curls were slightly tousled as though she'd just woken up. Despite the relaxed clothes, she looked surprisingly cute, her face flushed slightly pink as she caught sight of me.
Following just behind Amy was another woman—one clearly related to both girls, though older and more refined. Carol Dallon, New Wave's lawyer and, frankly, a stunning MILF.
"Good afternoon, Mr Silas Thorn," Carol greeted me politely, extending a slender hand. "What brings you to my residence."
"I'm, uh, officially joining the Wards," I began, shifting my weight awkwardly as Carol observed me closely. Her clear blue eyes had a sharpness to them, like she was dissecting every word I said. "Director Piggot gave me some paperwork yesterday, and I wanted to ask if you could go over it. You know, as my lawyer."
Carol nodded immediately, her expression professional and approving. "Joining the Wards is a wise decision, Mr. Thorn. Capes who choose to operate alone rarely last very long—especially in a city like Brockton Bay. Having backup and official resources will increase your survival odds dramatically."
"Yeah, that was pretty much my thought," I admitted, relaxing a bit under her approving gaze.
Victoria suddenly clapped her hands together, grinning enthusiastically. "Oh, this is awesome news! You being in the Wards means we'll be seeing each other a lot more often." She gave me an exaggerated wink and then turned towards Amy with a devilish grin. "Hear that, Ames? Your boyfriend's gonna be hanging around all the time now!"
Amy's face went bright crimson in an instant, and she sputtered indignantly, scowling at her sister. "Whatever, Vicky!"
Carol shot Victoria a mildly exasperated look, clearly used to her daughter's antics. "Victoria, please," she said firmly, silencing Vicky's teasing giggle almost immediately. Then she turned back to me, all professionalism again. "I'd be happy to go over the Wards contract with you, Silas. Just leave the documents with me, and I'll make sure there's nothing in there that'll cause you problems."
"Thank you," I said gratefully. "I appreciate that."
Then I turned towards Amy, who still refused to look directly at me.
I gave her a sheepish smile, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "Amy, listen… I just wanted to say sorry about everything that happened. I know you didn't exactly ask to get dragged into another world full of dragons and danger and all that stuff. I mean, I know it was kinda cool too—but still, you definitely didn't sign up for all that craziness."
Amy's eyes widened even further, her expression shifting to wary confusion. "Silas…?" she asked nervously. "What are you—"
"I actually have your costume," I blurted out, immediately regretting the words the instant they left my mouth. "Oh, and, uh—I also have another gift for you! You know, to make things up to you!"
Amy let out a horrified squeak, her face impossibly red now. "Dammit, Silas! Why did you say that? In front of Carol too…" she whined.
Vicky's eyes lit up with obvious delight as she leaned forward.
When Carol spoke next, her voice had dropped dangerously low—every bit the mother-protecting-her-daughter tone. "Silas," she said evenly, narrowing her eyes sharply at me, "would you care to explain why exactly you're in possession of my daughter's hero uniform…?"
Amy immediately covered her face with her hands, looking like she desperately wanted to vanish from existence entirely.
Victoria's giggle grew louder, and she looked positively delighted at the drama unfolding right before her eyes.
"Uuuuhhh…?"
Yeah, I didn't have an appropriate response for that awkward question.
XXX
Hehe... Silas is in danger.