The Rise of Marquis 3: The March of Brockton Bay (Patreon)

The Rise of Marquis
Chapter 3: The March of Brockton Bay

-VB-

Samuel Lavere, known to the wider world under his cape persona of Marquis, knew that the world was crumbling in too many ways.

Having proper thinkers in his employ made sure that he saw the pattern of deterioration, and thus, he took steps to make sure that his fiefdom could weather the tides of hardship. It was actually something of a wonder how a bunch of numbers could be looked at indifferently until they were brought together and made into a graph.

And that was exactly what he had commissioned, but of course, he hadn’t included the actual titles for the numbers he’d sent his computer specialist.

“So this is the graph, Christine?” Samuel asked the young lady in front of him.

Ms. Mellow huffed. “You know, I am perfectly willing to accept what these numbers mean as payment, Mr. Marquis.”

He chuckled. “It’s quite depressing, actually. I’m not sure if you want to know,” he teased. He knew perfectly well that the freelancer was well established in Brockton Bay and Boston as she was. While she advertised her skills as a computer specialist freelancer, she tended to come readily to him for whatever jobs he would give her.

She pouted cheekily, knowing completely well that she could get away with being a little rude, a little rough, and a little seductive with him. It helped that she was a cute woman who didn’t fail in any of the jobs she’s accepted from him.

“If you really want to know…? I mean, I did offer ten grand for your silence on the matter.”

“I’m sure. You’ve paid me generously for the past year now.”

It was true. What was also true was that a lot of the work she’s done for him so far helped him wiggle out information from his enemies, identify potential enemy’s assets, and work the books for his March.

Even if she didn’t know the full spectrum of her work, he supposed that she did deserve to know the content of the simple graph she’s made.

“It’s the population of the world.”

Christine blinked. Blinked. Blinked again.

Slowly, her face paled as blood drained from her face at the realization of what she held in her hands.

“If this chart was to be released to the public with full documents attached, then I think you know what may happen, dear.”

She laughed nervously. “You … deal with some serious topics, sir.”

He laughed in earnest. “It is what it is once you reach the level of management I am at! It did start out simply as keeping track of which city I needed to expand to, but after only a few looks, I could already see a pattern. And well, it came to your hands for me to see exactly to see the full picture of what I was seeing in each individual city.”

“And the other graphs?”

“Same along those lines.”

“Oh…”

“Is there anything else, Christine?”

She shook her head, uncharacteristically quiet of her.

“Then you’re free to go, dear. Oh,” he quickly interjected. “You will keep this to yourself, yes? I am sure the government knows because how can they not know when they have to collect taxes, which means that if you were to blurt this out…”

The looming threat of the USA government coming down on a single person was good enough for Christine to nod before hurrying off, but the young lady wouldn’t let it go without her last word. She peeked her head back into the doorway of his office with a grin. “Hey, at least Brockton Bay is good.”

Then she was gone.

He snorted in amusement.

Yes, Brockton Bay was good, and this was because of his efforts over the last decade. Ever since the destruction of the Empire and the exile of the Teeth, he and his March stood as the sole dominating parahuman force in Brockton Bay since his growth in power during the Brockton Brigade Home Invasion.

Instead of letting himself go in the luxuries of his power and wealth, Samuel did something prudent; he invested. He stopped taking protection fees from the shopkeepers and merchants, replacing that income with gambling houses and high end escort services. He continued his protection nonetheless, and his personal fiefdom became a haven for commercial business.

Unlike the Downtown, which suffered occasional independent villain attacks, the Docks was safe and (relatively) crime free.

Over time, people came to him.

They set up shops. They had marriages. Had kids. Retired. Expanded.

It was a combination of little things that came to be one big thing at the end of the decade: he ruled over the March of a prosperous Brockton Bay as its benevolent overlord, and not even the cops dared to touch him anymore.

Why would they? As much as he was a villain, he rarely appeared these days, and when he did appear, it was to put down out of control villains who refused to play by his Rule.

Speaking of which, he needed to remind the local Protectorate that they were getting a bit too uppity. What else would they be if they thought they could get away with raiding one of his warehouses.

“Kamal.”

A dark skinned man stepped out of the shadows of his office. Despite the fact that his office was dim due to the curtains keeping the light out, the Ethiopian ex-military man kept his sunglasses on.

“Yes, sir?” he asked in thickly accented English.

“Have a driver ready to drop me off and pick me up once I am done with my business.”

“Of course, sir. Will it be masked?”

“Yes.”

The man bowed slightly before leaving the office.

He waited in his office for a brief moment as he thought about what he would actually do to show the Protectorate that they were not the boss and that they were allowed to remain in his city at his discretion.

Something that made sure the point got across but the public would not turn against him for any kind of unnecessarily “cruel” show of violence.