Zoe cackles, and her facade slips

"Oh my god." She cackles. "This is too perfect." You see her eyes flit up and down your body before coming to rest on your belly. Your hand goes to your tummy instinctively, almost protectively, which only causes her to laugh again. The contemptuously amused expression breaks out into overt delight.

"Zoe, this isn't funny anymore! It stopped being funny a long time ago!" You shout. Your voice is bright and tinny. It reminds you of an annoying side character in some Disney kids sitcom that Zoe used to watch.

She ignores you and leans in to poke you sharply in your bulging tummy. "I wonder who the father is." She muses.

"That's enough!" You stamp your foot petulantly. "What's wrong with you? I'm your brother! This is gross!"

"Sister now, actually." She quips. A devilish smile curls the side of her lip. "But~" She sings softly. "Really, not even that." She begins to twirl the gun on her finger with all the dexterity of Spaghetti Western outlaw. She amuses herself with her own show of skill for a moment, then catches the gun in a comfortable grip, and slips it between her belt and jeans. "In fact, your poor sister never came back from her vacation a week ago."

"What are you talking about Zoe?"

Zoe rolls her eyes. "I knew you were dense Lucas, but you really haven't figured out something fishy is going on? Do you usually fuck around with your sister like this?" Her face screws up in disgust. "Because that would explain a lot." She sighs, then quick as a flash points the gun at you again. "Your sister involved herself in something she shouldn't have, and instead of surrendering like a good little girl and accept her consequences, she decided to steal something very valuable and ship it to her dear older brother."

You gape, finally beginning to understand.

Zoe rolls her eyes. "And she used snail mail. No tracking number. No way to find the package in transit. I had to pretend to be her for a WEEK until it arrived." Her voice takes on a sharp edge. "I guess it was kind of fun being a teenager again." She glances back up. "In an odd way, you have her to thank for your situation, so maybe she's the father, in an abstract sort of way?"

With a cold whine you mutter, "Who are you?"

Zoe gives a small knowing smile. "Now why would I tell you that?" Something about the glint of her eyes betrays familiarity, but you can't place it.

"Do yourself a favor, stay out of this. Bribe some social workers. Get your papers. Raise your kid, and DON'T go looking for Zoe." She points the gun at her breasts, and fires. They shrink back down to a more manageable, but still burgeoning, size. "You don't even know the half of what we're capable of. I'm letting you off easy."

As soon as she was finished speaking she was out the door. It slams behind her, leaving you barefoot, teenaged, and pregnant.

(Both Lucas and John have been used as names over the course of this branch, I'm going with Lucas.)