Another Way Prologue Pt 2 (Patreon)

Carol Dallon leaned against the kitchen bench, her arms folded tightly around herself. Her eyes were on the window showing darkness outside, but she didn't register it. All she could see was the mocking expression on Marquis' face, the one that told her that she had lost, he had won, yet again ...

"What the hell were you thinking?"

The abrupt question jolted Carol out of her reverie. Startled, she looked around, into her sister's blazing eyes. "What?"

"I said, what the hell were you thinking?" Sarah had moderated her tone, but her voice was still a harsh whisper as she gestured toward the living room. "You nearly got Neil killed! What is it with you and Marquis?"

Carol closed her eyes for a moment. Thank goodness Vicky isn't here to see this. Her daughter was having a sleepover with the Pelhams' kids; she was older than Eric and younger than Crystal, but they got along pretty well. Neither family had a lot of money at the moment – she was still a ways away from sitting for her bar exam – but they'd pooled their resources to afford a sitter for the night, at the Pelham household. Which meant that they'd had to come back to her house – hers and Mark's – to properly deal with the wounded men.

"Well, I'm waiting."

Carol opened her eyes. Sarah was still standing there, hands on hips. "What do you want me to say? He's a monster. You know it, and I know it. Tonight was our best chance to take him down, but we can still come back from this -"

"I'm not talking about that, and you know it!"

I really don't want to face this right now. "Can we talk about this later?" Much later. Never, for preference.

"No." The word came out flat and hard. Inwardly, Carol flinched. She's never been this pissed at me before. "We will talk about this. Here. Now."

"I'm really kind of tired -"

"You nearly got Neil killed!"

"I didn't – I was aiming at Marquis and -"

"Not that!" Sarah was in her face by now. "When you kept trying to kill Marquis when Neil was choking to death!"

"I - I thought that if -"

"No!" Sarah's voice was raised again. "You didn't think! You weren't thinking! You were just attacking! While Neil was suffocating!"

"I – if I'd knocked him out or killed him -"

"Then Neil would have died!" screamed Sarah. "Didn't you hear him? The bone was in Neil's lungs!"

"I – thought maybe he was bluffing?" ventured Carol. "If he died, maybe it would crumble away -"

"Leaving him with a lungful of bone dust! Do you even hear yourself, Carol? Marquis had us beaten, and you wouldn't give up, and you nearly got Neil killed because of it!"

"No, I wouldn't give up!" Carol shouted back, stung. "Because with Marquis, you don't give up! He's a murderer! Tonight, he nearly murdered your husband, and you're blaming it on me!"

The sound of someone tentatively clearing their throat made both of them turn their heads. Fleur was leaning in through the door from the living room.

"What?" asked Sarah, visibly getting hold of her temper.

"Uh, if there's nothing else, I was going to get Donny home," Fleur told them. "He needs his rest, and I've got an early start."

Curtly, Sarah nodded. "Okay, go ahead," she agreed. "And tell Donny that I said you both did good tonight." Carol caught the unspoken message loud and clear; at least you didn't nearly get my husband killed.

Wisely, Fleur took the statement at face value. "Thanks. I'll tell him." She disappeared back into the living room; Carol heard the murmured voices as she assisted Donny out to her car. The distant engine started up and moved off.

Sarah turned back to Carol. "I'll tell you what I think happened tonight." Her voice was low and controlled once more. "You can tell me how close to the mark you think I am."

" ... okay." Carol's tone reflected her wariness, but there wasn't much she could do about it. At least she's not screaming any more.

"I think you're far too invested in capturing Marquis. Stopping him, any way possible. If necessary, killing him. Am I right?"

Her sister's tone was almost reasonable; Carol tried to match it.

"We're all invested in stopping Marquis, Sarah. How many times have we faced him? How many times has he beaten us? How many people has he killed because we've failed to stop him? He's a murderer. A monster. He needs to be stopped. Tonight was our best chance. We had a battle plan, a strategy -"

"One that you came up with, Carol."

"It was a weakness to be exploited, and it could have worked."

"The man doesn't hurt women or kids, Carol! That's not a weakness! That's something that makes him less of a monster!"

"It doesn't make him less of a murderer, less of a criminal, though," Carol retorted stubbornly.

"No, you're right, it doesn't." Sarah sighed. "Mind you, it's not like we've got any shortage of murderers, monsters and criminals in Brockton Bay, these days. Allfather makes Marquis look like a saint by comparison, and Galvanate isn't far behind. And Butcher was even worse, before the Teeth left Brockton Bay."

"Only by comparison," argued Carol. "He's still a crime lord, and he's still a murderer. No judge in the world would be swayed by a plea of 'the other criminals out there are a lot worse than him, Your Honour'."

“Which still raises the question,” Sarah mused. “Why is it that we find ourselves going after Marquis all the time anyway? I mean, we had more of an advantage in that last fight than we've ever had before – and I'm still dubious about the wisdom of using that 'weakness' against him, just by the way – and he still cleaned our clocks without breaking a sweat.”

“I think we had a chance,” Carol insisted. “If we'd tightened things up a bit -”

Sarah shook her head. “No. The man knows his powers. He's fought people worse than us, and come out on top. He was going easy on us. No injuries to the men that would cripple or disfigure them, nothing worse than bruises to us.”

“We need one good victory before we unveil the New Wave project. Marquis is prominent. And if we manage to take him down, we won't have to worry about revenge strikes. Because he doesn't work with other capes.”

“I think there's something more,” Sarah told her. “Something you're not saying. A reason why you're so set on taking down Marquis.”

“You're just imagining it,” Carol replied. “He's the best available target, is all.” But she couldn't stop her eyes from shifting away.

“I'm not imagining it,” Sarah responded. “There's something about him. Christ, I'm team leader, and you still take lead when we fight Marquis. Like it's personal or something.”

"You don't know what you're talking about," insisted Carol. "He's a villain, we're heroes. It's as simple as that. The Teeth are gone, and if we can bring Marquis down, that's halved the number of supervillain-led gangs in the city."

"So why don't we go after Galvanate? His men do more damage than Marquis, and he doesn't care nearly as much about collateral damage."

"Because we don't know where he lives," pointed out Carol. "Taking on his men is problematic; they're just about impossible to hurt, and they've got those damned electrical powers. You and Donny are our only fliers, and your powers don't do more than tickle them."

"Plus, they don't hold back when fighting women."

Carol dropped her eyes.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"I'm not a damn coward, Sarah!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," sighed her sister. "I never said you were. But there's this thing you have against Marquis – whatever the fuck that's about – and there's the fact that no matter how many times we go after him, he's not going to do more than embarrass us and inflict disabling injuries on the guys. Which makes him your ideal target. Am I right?"

"You make it sound like I want to keep fighting him. Like I'm happy that he's there to fight."

"Well, do you? Are you?"

"No!" Carol rounded on her sister. "Like I said, he's a criminal. A murderer. A monster. He needs to go down hard. And that's all there is to it."

“That doesn't change the fact that we nearly screwed up really badly, tonight.” Sarah was looking out the window, or rather, at the window. Carol could see her sister watching her reflection.

“What do you mean, nearly?” Carol's voice was bitter. “We did screw up. We nearly had him, and he still took us down.”

“That closet.” Sarah's voice was quiet; she put her hand on Carol's shoulder. “If he hadn't shown us who was in there, would you have tried to distract him with it?”

Carol twisted away from her. “That's not the point!”

“We're heroes,” Sarah insisted. “Or at least, I'm trying to be one. And you should be too. To give Vicky a good role model when she gets powers too.”

“You don't know that she will.” But Carol's voice lacked conviction. Too many children of known capes had gotten powers of their own.

“Let's assume she does,” Sarah told her steadily. “Do you want her role model to be her mom the hero, or her mom who lashes out and gets people killed? Because that's what I was talking about. We went in with way too little information. We didn't know about that little girl. You would have gone for that closet, distracted him. What if he failed to stop you?”

“We didn't know,” protested Carol. “I'd never attack a little girl on purpose.”

“I attacked her, because I didn't know,” Sarah pointed out. “It wouldn't make me any less guilty, if my shots had gotten through. She'd still be dead.”

“So we're supposed to just ignore him, now that he's got a kid? This is supposed to absolve all of his crimes, all the people he's killed, all the things he's stolen?”

“No,” Sarah replied patiently. “But it does change matters, considerably. We can't attack him at home. Rather, we never should have. Too much chance of something exactly like that happening. We acted on the information we were given, and didn't ask if there was anything more.”

“Wait, so you think that little shit set us up?” asked Carol, frowning. “He wanted us to attack Marquis at home, maybe hurt the girl? Because that's really screwed up.”

“I don't think it's that either,” Sarah mused. “But it's a lesson; just because we've got some information, we should never assume that we've got all the important information.”

“So what are we going to do about Marquis?” asked Carol practically. “Now he knows that we know who he is. And that we know he's got a kid.” She shook her head. “What's wrong is that he's even got a daughter. He's a murderer. A monster. A man like that shouldn't even be allowed near children.”

“Didn't you see the look in her eye, hear what she was saying?” Sarah frowned. “She loves him, that's beyond a doubt. He hasn't taught her any of his vicious ways. In fact, she's probably unaware that he's even a villain.” She paused. “Well, until tonight, anyway. In any case; he doesn't hurt kids. He doesn't even deal drugs, and that's a baseline crime for nearly every syndicate out there. He truly loves his daughter, and I wouldn't be surprised if he was actually a pretty good father. She looked well cared for.”

“He's a criminal.” Carol couldn't understand why Sarah didn't seem to be getting it. “If it's not us bursting into his house, it might be the Teeth next week, or the Empire Eighty-Eight the week after. And they won't stop attacking just because there's a little girl in the way. She's in danger. We have to save her from him.”

“She was more in danger from us than from him, tonight,” Sarah pointed out. “And I would venture to guess that he's also figured it out that people know. Anyone bursting into his house from now on is likely to get a very unpleasant welcome.”

“So what do we do?” Carol looked at her helplessly. “He still needs to be arrested. Just having a child, even one who loves him, is not grounds for extenuating circumstances.”

“You're not going to let this go, are you?”

“No. I'm not.”

Sarah rubbed her chin. “Well, Neil's going to be sidelined until that cut on his shoulder heals, and Mark and Donny are also going to be out of action for a while. Which means that he probably won't see us as a threat, with half the team down. So we capitalise on that.”

“We hit him again?” Carol's voice showed the eagerness she felt. “Tonight?”

“No. Not tonight. Not tomorrow night. He'll be on guard for that. The night after, however, we can do this. But we don't make it a frontal assault. He's too good for that. I'll go in through the upstairs window … “

<><>

Midnight. Time to move.

Lady Photon drifted in from above, as gently as a falling leaf. She'd flown as high as she dared, as high as she could and still identify the house from above. Instead of her regular costume, she wore all black, with a scarf covering her lower face, the better to be not seen in the night sky. If anyone had seen her, she'd spotted no reaction. Brandish and Fleur were creeping up on the house at ground level; one for the front door, one for the back door. They would stay silent as long as possible, the less warning Marquis had, the better.

She knew that Amelia's bedroom was on the upper floor, but she didn't know which one. She was also not sold on the idea of abducting a supervillain's daughter, but she was worried that if she did nothing, then Carol might just come in on her own.

Pausing next to each window in turn, she pressed her face to the glass, and let the slightest illumination shine into the room within. It shouldn't wake anyone; her eyes, adjusted to the dark, needed less light than normal.

Downstairs, she knew that Carol would be at the front doors, while Fleur was at the back. Each of them had powers capable of gaining them entry, hopefully with a minimum of noise. The first window was a bust; it seemed to be a spare room, or maybe a storeroom.

Second window, the same. Third window, a bed. But nobody in it. Fourth window, a larger bed. Also unoccupied.

Wait a moment.

Carefully, she increased the intensity of the light; it gradually illuminated the room. Revealing a chest of drawers, all pulled out. Pale squares where paintings had rested on the walls.

With a surmise growing in her mind, she darted back to the previous window. This bed was a child's one. Mattress bare, stripped of sheets and covers. A few toys, abandoned, scattered on the floor. Brightly coloured wallpaper. This was her room. They've gone.

Downstairs, a sound of breakage, smashing.

Maybe not?

She tried to open the window, but some sort of child-lock defeated her. Backing up, she unleashed a burst of laser bolts at it; it shattered inward, tinkling to the floor of the child's room. Entering without landing, she pulled the door open and flew down the corridor.

When she got to the top of the stairs, the sound of breaking things got louder; over the top of that, she could hear swearing. Carol's voice.

Not combat, then?

Forgoing the stairs, she crossed over the bannister and dropped to the floor below, coming to a halt a foot above the floor. Brandish, similarly dressed in dark clothing, was in the process of using her light-blade to demolish a stately dining-room table. Several of the chairs lay nearby, smashed. Fleur stood nearby, apparently not interested in participating in the orgy of destruction.

“Brandish!” snapped Sarah. “What the hell's wrong with you?”

Carol stopped, and took a deep breath. “Ask Fleur,” she growled. But she stopped attacking the table, and merely stood with clenched fists.

Sarah turned to Fleur. “Well?”

“We found this on the dining-room table.” Fleur handed a folded sheet of paper to Sarah. On it, in flawless copperplate calligraphy, was inscribed the name Brandish.

She unfolded it; it was a letter, penned in the same beautiful handwriting.

Brandish, my dear (she read).

On the off-chance that you are reading this, then it means that we have flown the coop and that you have returned to my home on a fruitless errand. On the one hand, I am sorry that I was not here to greet you and show you proper respect. On the other, I am unsure as to how much respect to show you; you were, after all, willing to use my own child against me, knowingly or no.

So that you understand this; my daughter is the most precious thing in the world to me, and it is for her sake and only for her sake that I am taking this step. I know well that should I remain in Brockton Bay, you would never cease attacking me, and I fear that where one learns my identity, others will follow. Not all of them, dear lady, would be as concerned for the well-being of a child as you are.

Thus, I must go. My little girl and I must venture into the wide world, to seek our fortunes elsewhere. Talking about fortunes, those of my assets that you have already had frozen, after your ill-fated foray into my home? A mere fragment of my true worth. So sorry to have disappointed you.

Off we go, dear Brandish, far from Brockton Bay and the madding crowd alike. Search as you like, you will find neither us nor any clue to our destination. We will be as ghosts in the crowd, never to be seen again.

Now, I understand that you have a certain animosity against me, but this impulse should be tempered; I tell you now, you should not have returned to my house. If you do not leave at once, it is likely that you will undergo a most unpleasant experience. However, I do not expect you to follow my directives, so feel free to do as you wish. I remain,

Ever yours,

Marquis

“Hmm,” mused Sarah as she re-folded the letter. “I see why you're not happy.”

“That's the least of what I'm feeling,” Carol retorted. “He left that letter for me to find. He knew I'd come back. And he taunts me in it. Even tells me that I shouldn't be here. That 'unpleasant experience' thing, that's a threat if I ever heard one.”

“Yeah, I don't like that one,” Fleur agreed. “What if the place is rigged to blow?”

Sarah shook her head. “No, I doubt it. He wrote the letter to Brandish. He doesn't hurt women. Whatever the 'unpleasant experience' is, it won't be fatal, or even overly harmful. And it's probably aimed at all of us.”

“How do you mean?” demanded Brandish.

“I mean that whatever he does, he can't do more than set it up and make it happen, wherever he is now,” Sarah told her. “So if he's telling you that you are due an unpleasant experience, it very likely means that we all are.”

“But if we leave right away,” argued her sister, “we can't search the place and maybe find a clue as to where he went.”

“I'm actually liking the idea of leaving right now,” Fleur decided. “That letter gives me the creeps.”

“I agree,” Sarah decided. “Marquis does not make idle threats.”

“But what if he's hiding in the wine cellar right now, bags packed?” Carol pointed out. “Ready for the capturing. Come on, just a quick search of the house and we're gone.”

“You do realise that he would probably anticipate you saying that exact thing,” Sarah told her.

“If we keep second-guessing each other, we'll never get anywhere,” Carol replied. “It'll only take a few minutes.”

Sarah sighed in aggravation. “Will it shut you up? And stop you from destroying furniture?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Good. Then let's get this over with.”

<><>

“What's that, Daddy?”

Marquis looked up from the bank of TV screens that cast a pallid glow across his face. Amelia stood in the doorway, her favourite pillow clutched to her chest.

“You should be in bed, little angel,” he chided her gently, but with no heat to his voice.

“I couldn't sleep, Daddy,” she told him. “Nothing's the same. Nothing's in the right place.”

“You'll get used to it, Amelia,” he assured her. “In the meantime, want to come and see what Daddy's watching?”

She came on over, and he lifted her on to his lap. “This doesn't look like normal TV,” she pointed out, looking at the screens, each of which showed a static view of a room.

“It isn't,” he replied. “It's called closed-circuit television. I had these cameras put up in our home before we left.”

“Why, Daddy?” she asked, then pointed. “Oh! There's some people, Daddy!”

“Why, yes there are. And that's why I had this done. So I could see if people came in to the place. And they have.”

“What are they doing, Daddy?”

“They're searching the house, little one.”

“What are they looking for?”

He smiled and ruffled her hair. “You and me, Amelia.”

She giggled. “But we're not there, Daddy.”

His chuckle answered her. “I know that, and you know that, and they probably know that, but they've still got to look.”

“That sounds silly, Daddy.”

“As you grow up, dearest Amelia, you will discover that people can be very silly indeed for what seem to be the best of reasons.” He gestured at the screens. “Case in point. I told them in my letter to Brandish that they should leave immediately, and so she took it as a challenge, and decided to stay and search the entire house from top to bottom. After, of course,” a pained look crossed his face, “demolishing my dining-room table.”

“But why should they go, Daddy?”

“You'll see in just a moment, little one.”

<><>

“Well, they weren't in the attic.”

Fleur brushed at the smudges of dust on her clothing as she spoke. There hadn't been any people in the attic, but there had been much dust, quite a few spider-webs, and many places for someone to hide. And Brandish had refused to leave before every nook and cranny had been investigated.

“Look,” Sarah told her sister as they descended the stairs once more. “This is getting ridiculous. We've checked everywhere from the wine cellar on up. They're not here.”

“I know they're not here,” Carol replied adamantly. “But there's got to be some clue, somewhere, as to where they've gone. And we'll find it.”

“And what then?” asked Sarah. “Chase off after them? Hound them from city to city?”

For a moment, she thought Carol was going to answer in the affirmative. But then her sister shook her head reluctantly. “No. But we can inform the authorities about where they've gone to.”

“I don't know,” Sarah replied. “Outing supervillain identities. It sets a bad precedent. They could do the same to heroes, you realise.”

“Which is what the New Wave initiative will nip in the bud,” Carol argued. “They can't out us if we're already public.”

“And the other part?” pointed out Fleur. “Attacking them in their homes? What if -”

She never completed the sentence; the front doors burst open and armed men poured in, shining bright lights and pointing guns.

“Police!”

“Hands on your heads!”

“Show us your hands!”

“This is the police!”

“Down on the floor!”

“You're under arrest!”

“Get down on the floor! Now now now!”

They were taken utterly by surprise; Fleur, in the lead, was grabbed and wrestled to the ground before anyone could react. Carol was grabbed, but went to her invulnerable form, and Sarah threw up her force field. Immediately, pistols were being pointed in her direction.

“Drop the force field! Immediately!”

“There's no need for this, officers,” Sarah told them clearly. “We're members of the Brockton Bay Brigade. I'm Lady Photon, that's Brandish, and you've got Fleur on the ground there.”

“Really?” growled a grizzled sergeant. “So where's the rest of your team, and why are you breaking and entering someone else's home in the middle of the night? And where's your costumes?”

Sarah sighed. He called the police on us.

This was going to be a very embarrassing night indeed.

Well, I can't say we weren't warned.

<><>

Marquis, immaculately clad, with his hair neatly tied back out of the way, stood before Accord's desk. He knew that the diminutive man before him had only very recently established his hold on Boston's underworld, but that he was a rising power. Also that he had stringent requirements for anyone with whom he associated.

Accord studied him in return. “Marquis.” His voice was dry, to match the metal mask which mirrored his every facial movement. “You had a thriving criminal enterprise in Brockton Bay. Why have you abandoned it all to come to Boston?”

“I have no intent of ousting you, if that was what you were worried about,” Marquis replied evenly. “My identity was discovered, there, and superheroes invaded my home. I chose to come here rather than fight that battle to its logical conclusion.”

“If someone threatened me like that, I would have them killed.” Accord's voice was matter-of-fact.

“I do not harm women or children. You know that.” Marquis' was flat.

“This is true. Some would see this as a weakness.”

“Some would be mistaken. You believe in discipline, in regularity in all things. This is part of my discipline. We all have those things which we will not abide, do we not?”

Slowly, Accord nodded his head. “Your point is well-made. There is territory to the eastern part of the city which I have not yet claimed. I will not contest you for it. Keep your men from my territory, and we will not clash.”

“You do not ask for tribute?”

A faint smile. “In the beginning, you will not have sufficient resources to pay me any sort of meaningful tribute. Once you are strong enough to pay such a tribute, you may question the need to pay me anything. You were strong in Brockton Bay; you will be strong here. I understand that you defied Jack Slash, held territory against the Teeth, against the Empire Eighty-Eight, against Galvanate.”

“All of that is true, yes,” admitted Marquis.

“So, in return for freely granting you access to your territory, I ask for just one thing.”

“And what is that?”

“The reason why you run from superheroes when you do not run from villains.”

Marquis hesitated for a long moment. “I need your word that you will not use this information against me.”

“I will give no such assurance until I have heard it.”

“I would truly rather not say.”

“Then I would be forced to retract my offer.”

“You will not act upon this information?”

Accord lifted his chin slightly. “If I choose to act upon it, I will give you fair warning first.”

“That's fair, I suppose.” Marquis took a deep breath. “I have a daughter. She is quite young. The superheroes endangered her when they invaded my home. I did not want villains coming after her, to get leverage on me.”

“Or to kill her just to spite you,” filled in Accord. He nodded. “Very well; this information makes sense, and is not actionable. The territory is yours to be had.”

Marquis bowed slightly from the waist. “Thank you.”

“Do not give me cause to regret this.” Accord gestured in dismissal.

Turning on his heel, Marquis left the office.

Well, he knows about Amelia, but he doesn't seem to care. I can work with him; he's a cold little bastard, but he keeps his word.

Walking briskly, he left Accord's base of operations. He had work to do.

<><>

Accord mulled over Marquis' situation. He was powerful in Brockton Bay. Charismatic and dangerous; a potent combination. But he has a weakness; his child.

A man with a child will take less risks, unless the child is in danger. Allow the child to be kept safe, and he will be predictable, will not threaten me.

I can work with this.

Prologue, Part 3