Another Way Pt 5 (Patreon)

Accord looked up at the deferential knock upon the door. He frowned; there were no appointments scheduled for this time of day. The knock was not repeated, but he knew that his secretary would be waiting until he decided to call her in. She would wait all day, if he so chose; he valued that in an underling.

“Enter,” he stated, pressing the buttons that deactivated the traps in the floor and ceiling between the door and the desk. One could not be too careful, after all; the traps designed to catch someone coming in through the window remained active.

The office door opened, and he noted that it was indeed his secretary; she held an envelope. Advancing to the desk, she laid it down before him. “This came for you, sir.”

He did not touch it immediately; she had, of course, placed it precisely, square with the sides of the desk. The address was not that of the building, but one of his several post office boxes. It was postmarked Brockton Bay; picking it up, he checked for a return address. This turned out to be another post office box which was located, unsurprisingly, in Brockton Bay.

Brockton Bay …

Now that he looked more closely, the address had been hand-written, but extremely neatly so. The rounded hand was a strong clue. I suspect I know who sent it …

“You may return to your duties.”

“Thank you, sir.” She turned and left, closing the door silently behind her.

Retrieving a letter-opener from his drawer, he carefully slit open the envelope. It was, he noted in passing, made from good quality paper. The letter within, covered in copperplate writing of the same calibre, was also penned upon thick, creamy paper.

Of all Accord's acquaintances, only Marquis used that quality of paper. This did not surprise him, as the handwriting appeared to be that of the man's daughter. Reminded, he raised his eyes to the framed drawing upon the wall facing his desk. She had made that years ago, a mere child, striving for perfection. She had not achieved it, but the evidence of her effort was there all the same.

He unfolded the letter and began to read.

Dear Accord …

Under Marquis' no doubt patient tutelage, the girl's handwriting had improved to the point that even he himself could find few flaws in it. No child's scrawl this; each letter was formed to perfection, the words balanced neatly across the page. So few people wrote letters these days; even fewer took the time to do it properly.

We are now settled in Brockton Bay. Father says that it has changed in the years that he spent in Boston, but I think that he may remember it differently to the way it really was. I don't know if that would apply to me; when we left, I was too young to know much about the city at all.

Most of the changes, Father tells me, have to do with the gangs themselves. Galvanate has gone, as have the Teeth, but new gangs have emerged or moved in to replace them. The Archer's Bridge Merchants are a particularly sore point for him, as he has never approved of selling drugs, especially to children. The Merchants, it seems, have no particular scruples in that area, and so he says that he is going to talk with them sometime soon.

Accord paused in his reading of the letter. He had heard things about the Merchants, and very little of it was good. If Marquis was going to react predictably to them, particularly to their famously foul-mouthed leader, then they were on a collision course with a destiny that they would not be able to avoid.

With a brief, dry smile upon his lips – relieving Brockton Bay of the Archer's Bridge Merchants could only improve the tone of the city – he read on.

We have already encountered another gang. Father and I were driving through a back street when we were stopped and accosted by members of the Asian Bad Boys. Once we made them see reason, Father served notice via one of their members that he would be reclaiming his territory. We're still waiting for Lung's response.

<><>

“Who is this man called Marquis? Who does he think he is?”

Lung was almost incandescent with rage, both literally and figuratively. Flames danced over his body and leaped from his hands, leaving yet more scorch-marks on the concrete walls of the building. Dao, more than a little singed but otherwise healthy, cowered back, while the rest of his contingent huddled near the exit. Along with the rest of them, Yan stared at Lung. He could kill us all in a moment. He still might.

“He – he used to be here in Brockton Bay -” Dao babbled, but Lung cut him off.

“I know who he is!” he shouted. “He left! He ran away! Why is he back? This is my territory, not his!”

Dao opened his mouth – to do what, Yan had no idea. To agree with Lung, probably. But instead, he quoted again the words Marquis had told him to say: “Marquis has returned. He will be taking back what is his.” His eyes opened wide with horror, and he turned to run.

He was far too late; driven beyond reason, Lung engulfed him in fire. Dao made it three steps before he fell, his dying scream almost lost in the crackling of the flames. Sugito was the first to make a break for it, but the others weren't far behind. Yan fled with the rest of them and by the time Lung looked around for them, they were gone.

Sugito led them on a mad, scrambling rush away from the building. They covered three blocks before Yan stumbled and fell.

“Come on,” urged Sugito. “We gotta keep going.”

Thus far, Yan had been running on pure terror, but when she got to her feet, her lungs were heaving and her legs refused to support her. “I can't,” she whimpered, and collapsed to her knees.

“Lung's gonna kill us all for what Dao just said,” urged Chang. “Come on, get up.”

“I can't run much more either,” wheezed Juuko.

“Fuck,” muttered Sugito. He looked around for any potential shelter; a derelict Seven-Eleven across the road caught his eye. “Come on.”

Assisted by Chang, Yan got to her feet. Most of them were staggering as they crossed the street; Sugito went ahead, circling around behind the building. Moments later, Yan heard the sound of wood breaking, then Sugito popped his head back around the corner. “Come on, guys. I got a way in!”

He had indeed; a boarded-up window had been kicked in, leaving a gap wide enough for them to crawl through. Sugito came last, picking up the boards and fitting them roughly back into place. They collapsed to the floor; Sugito sat up while the others lay back and gasped. Yan closed her eyes, but all she could see was the burning form of Dao, screaming as he fell to the floor. Opening them with a jerk, she stared fixedly at the stripes of light visible between the planks blocking the window. Around her, they talked, although the voices barely registered to her.

“What – what are we gonna do?” stammered Chang. “He killed Dao, man.”

“Yeah,” Pak agreed. “He might come after us next. 'Specially since we ran away.”

“We're gonna have to join another gang,” Sugito decided. “He won't come after us then. That'd mean a gang war.”

“But who're we gonna join?” Chang's brow furrowed. “Not the Empire Eighty-Eight. And not the Merchants either. Buncha druggie fucks.”

Pak didn't argue. “Marquis, maybe? He's all kinds of badass. And so's Marchioness.”

Sugito shook his head. “No. Fuck, no. They're the reason we're in this shit. Besides, you want to work for someone who can make you say stuff just 'cause they want you to? No, we're a fuck-load better off going with Blasto.”

“Pssh, yeah,” scoffed Chang. “Like Blasto's gonna let us join. He doesn't need minions. He can make all the monsters he wants.”

Sugito grinned. “I think he'll see it our way.” Pulling a grubby kerchief from his pocket, he unwrapped it to show two items; one was a piece of bone, while the other looked like a gleaming metal scale. “How much do you think he'll be willing to deal for these?”

<><>

Father says that we won't be taking all of Lung's territory, at least at first. We may yet end up displacing the Merchants instead, if the ABB proves tougher than Father thinks they will. But that's in the future. Right now, we have to consolidate our position.

By now, Father thinks, the rest of the gangs will have heard that he's back. I'm wondering about their reaction to this, especially from the Empire Eighty-Eight. Father knew Kaiser before he succeeded Allfather for the leadership of the Empire; from what he says, he and Allfather held to an uneasy truce until we had to leave town.

It's possible that the previous association will lead to a similar truce with Kaiser, or he may instead choose to be hostile. Whichever way it goes, we need to find out soon where we stand with him.

<><>

“You're certain of this.” Kaiser, clad in gleaming metal armour, stared ominously down at the skinhead before him. The metal surrounding his head hid all but his eyes, but it wasn't hard to hear the frown in his voice.

“Sure as I can be, sir.” The skinhead nodded anxiously. “The ABB kid was telling everyone. That Marquis was back, and that he'd be retaking his territory.”

“Hmm. Very well, you can go.” Kaiser gestured; the skinhead hurried from the room.

The supervillain turned and stalked across the room to where a map was pinned to a table. Already examining the map was a petite brunette wearing a white costume and a domino mask; she looked up as he leaned over and placed a push-pin in the map, at the location of a small, non-descript back street.

“It's no empty rumour,” he mused. “Marquis has indeed returned. And he's brought help.”

“I never met Marquis before he left,” the young woman told him. “Is he likely to be that much of a problem?”

“Let me put it this way, Purity,” Kaiser told her. “Back before you joined the Empire, there were four main gangs in Brockton Bay. Can you tell me who they were?”

“I know who they were,” she pointed out. “I've done my homework. The Empire, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he agreed dryly.

“Galvanate, who's now in the Birdcage.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“Butcher and the Teeth, who moved on after they almost got wiped out.”

“They have a way of making enemies.” His tone was hard.

“And Marquis.” She paused. “So what's so special about Marquis? Is he so dangerous?”

“Purity – Kayden – listen to me. Marquis was just one man. In those days, operating without parahuman backup was tantamount to suicide. The unwritten rules were a lot looser then; even so, Marquis managed to hold his territory and make a very respectable profit at the same time, while employing no other parahumans. Now, he's got a parahuman at his side, presumably his daughter. His powers are worrying enough; if hers are anything similar, then yes, they could be a lot of trouble if they chose to be.”

She tilted her head. “You sound worried.”

“Marquis held his own against Allfather, against Butcher, against Galvanate, and against Jack Slash. He also fought the Brockton Bay Brigade to a standstill several times, single-handedly. You tell me how worried I should be feeling.”

She blinked, looking concerned for the first time. “Oh. Oh shit. I see what you mean.”

The metal retracted from his face, showing a faint smile that carried no trace of humour. “Precisely.”

“What are you going to do?”

He looked thoughtful. “I think my first order of business is to have a talk with the man. Following that … we shall see.”

“Should I come along?”

“Why not?” he asked rhetorically. “After all, this Marchioness will probably be there as well. You can talk to her, find out her spin on things."

"So, you want me to pump her for information?" Her tone was more than a little dry.

"Precisely." He smiled broadly. "The more we can find out about them, the better." His phone chimed, and he picked it up from the table. She watched him as he read what appeared to be quite a lengthy text message. After reading it through for the second time, he looked back up at her, his expression suddenly introspective. "Huh. Well, well. Speaking of which ..."

"Speaking of what?"

He leaned over the map and placed another push-pin, at the site of the Brockton Bay Central Hospital. "I think I see a way to kill two birds with one stone."

She let her exasperation show, just a little. "Could you be slightly less cryptic?"

"You'll see. Come on, I need to speak to Hookwolf."

Shaking her head, she followed him from the room.

<><>

Just by the way, I have set out to make sure that the forces of law and order are at the very least ambiguous about our status in the city. I went to the Brockton Bay General Hospital and set myself up in the waiting area of the emergency room. To give the medical staff full credit, they didn't take long to realize what was going on, and were soon parking their most needy patients right next to me.

In case you were wondering, I didn't charge them. However, I did tell them that this was just a free sample, and that we could arrange a price schedule for later visits. They had some rather painful-looking accident cases, as well as a few cancer patients; by the time each of those has been cleared to go home, the news should be out.

I'm also reasonably certain that the Protectorate and the PRT know about Marquis and myself by now. This is mainly because Armsmaster came into the ER with an injured prisoner whom I healed, once the doctor managed to persuade him to put her next to me. As you have told me repeatedly; if you have something that someone else wants, make them come to you. It makes them value it more.

An interesting note: Armsmaster had with him a teenage superhero called Mega Girl. The interesting part is that she's not with the Wards, but instead with the Brockton Bay Brigade. I am guessing that she might be Laserdream's sister or something; they have a certain family resemblance. The Brigade has placed her with the Wards for training, which I think might be a good idea, given what Father has told me about how the Brigade used to operate.

Mega Girl was not overly happy; reading between the lines, I suspect that she has super-strength, and that she may have accidentally caused the injuries on Armsmaster's prisoner. She seems nice enough. However, I could not resist giving her a message to pass on to Brandish.

<><>

Vicky dropped straight down out of the sky from a thousand feet up; she landed in the back yard with barely a jar. I'm getting better at that. Dusting her hands off – she had used them to cushion the impact – she got up and strolled over to the back door. It was unlocked, of course; her parents were expecting her. The rear porch light was off for the same reason.

Slipping in through the door, she removed the domino mask as she closed the door behind her. “Mom, Dad, I'm home!” she called out.

“We're in the living room,” her father replied. As she came on through, both of her parents got up from the sofa and came over to her. “So how did it go, pumpkin? First night out and all?”

She took a deep breath. Her parents valued honesty above all else. You can lie to the public about who you are, but you never lie to your teammates about anything. Besides, Armsmaster would probably be talking to them soon anyway. “I, uh, screwed up a bit. Beat up a villain pretty badly.”

Her mother grimaced slightly. “How badly?” Vicky could read between the lines. Lawsuit badly?

“Badly enough to have to take her to the ER,” she admitted, and went to her father for a hug. His strong arms enfolded her, and she felt comforted; a moment later, her mother's arm went around her shoulders. “I – I didn't mean it,” she went on, feeling tears prickling her eyes. “It all happened so fast, she was wearing power armour and pointing a gun of some sort at Armsmaster, so I just tackled her and hit her and broke the gun, but it exploded and injured her pretty badly.”

Her father squeezed her slightly. “But you're okay? The explosion?”

“Yeah, I'm fine. But it messed up her arm pretty badly.”

“How is she now?” asked her mother practically. “Still in the hospital?”

She pulled free of her father, sniffling slightly. “Oh, no. She's all right now. Totally healthy. We took her back to holding and processed her through.”

Her mother frowned. “She was a regenerator? You could have told us, so we didn't worry so much.”

“No, no, she wasn't any sort of regenerator. There was this girl about my age, a cape, in the ER waiting room. She called herself Marchioness. She was just … well, chilling. Sitting back in a recliner with a cooler full of drinks, watching cartoons. The doctor told us to put the villain next to her. And she just … healed.”

“Just healed? Just like that?” Her father looked impressed. “All the injuries?”

“Yeah,” Vicky told him. “Plus, Marchioness said she cured her ongoing drug addiction, too. And she never even put a hand on her. She was watching cartoons and talking to me the whole time.”

“Was she healing the other people in the emergency room, too?” asked her mother.

“Uh, yeah,” Vicky replied. “She must have been. There was nobody there when we got there. The doctor said they'd all gone home.”

“I'm impressed,” her father admitted. “I've never heard of a healer who's not, you know, Eidolon or Scion, being able to do something like that.”

Vicky was warming to her topic; anything to deflect attention away from her screwup. “And that's not all. The doctor told us that they'd cleared out all the bad accident cases, and the ones from the cancer ward too. She could cure cancer. I mean, holy shit, is that even possible?” She paused, realising what she had just blurted out. "Uh, sorry."

Her mother didn't seem to have noticed. “Well, Scion healed Vikare's sister of cancer back in 'eighty-two,” she mused. “But since then … if there's a healer of that capability in Brockton Bay, that's huge news. Do you know if she's got a team affiliation, or if she'd like to join the Brigade?

“And how's that name spelled, do you know?” asked her father. “I'm trying to visualise it, but all I'm coming up with is 'female Martian'. And that doesn't make sense.”

“Oh, no,” Vicky told him. She dug in the small belt pouch. “She gave me her card.”

He took it and read it carefully, then turned it over and read the back as well. “'By Appointment Only', huh?”

Vicky nodded. “Yeah, I got the impression she was some kind of rogue.”

“Still,” her mother pointed out. “A healer of that magnitude is going to need some level of support, or people are going to be trying to recruit her by any and all means. Does she have a team that she works with?”

“Uh, yeah,” Vicky admitted. “She, uh, told me that she came back to Brockton Bay with her father. And she had a message for you.”

“For me?” Carol Dallon looked somewhat taken aback. “How does she even know me? What's the message?”

Vicky took a deep breath. “She said to tell you that Marquis' little girl said hi, and something weird about a table not deserving it.”

Brandish went very still indeed. “Say that again,” she whispered.

“I, uh, Marquis' little girl says hi, and that the table didn't deserve it.” Vicky looked at her parents. “What does it mean?”

“Marquis. Oh god.” Her mother ignored the question. “Is he back? Did she say that he was back? Marquis?” She paused. “Was he there, in the hospital?”

“Well, yeah, um, Armsmaster said he'd been hearing rumours,” Vicky told her. “He wasn't there, no. Just Marchioness. She was kind of nice. Friendly. She wasn't really polite to Armsmaster, but she made me feel better about what I did to Traction.”

“Traction?” Her father frowned. “Who's Traction?”

“Oh, the villain we captured. Sorry.”

“And this Marchioness healed Traction in front of you?”

“Yeah. Armsmaster had to carry her in, but in about two minutes, she was totally healed. She made a break for it, but we caught her.”

“What, Marchioness?” That was her mother.

“No, Traction. Marchioness just sat back and watched the show.”

“Did Armsmaster try to arrest Marchioness?” asked her father.

Vicky shook her head. “No. They just talked a bit, and Armsmaster asked about her rates for healing heroes, and she said something about her dad's lawyers, and then she told him that she'd be attending Endbringer battles, and we left.”

Slowly, Carol sat down on the sofa again. “Oh god. It's starting up again.”

Mark sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders. “It's not as bad as that, honey.”

“Yes. It is.” She shook her head. “Marquis is back in town. He was dangerous enough when it was just him. Now his daughter is a cape, and she's some sort of ranged healer and god knows what else, and she's probably helping him out. So even if he gets injured, she'll be able to heal him. And that's not the worst bit.”

Vicky sat down on her other side. “What's the worst bit, Mom?”

Brandish drew a deep, shuddering breath. “On our best day, we would never have been able to beat him. I can see that now. But now she's made herself untouchable – someone who can heal people en masse, who's willing to show up to Endbringer battles? Nobody's going to care who her father is. But if he gets arrested, what's to stop her from demanding that he be let loose? Withholding her services, in return for his release?”

Mark drew her into his embrace. “It might not come to that, dear.”

She buried her head against his chest. “Just you wait,” she told him. “I'm right. You'll see.”

<><>

Armsmaster did not seem happy that I was Marquis' daughter, but he didn't try to arrest me. This was probably because I had just healed his prisoner. Also, the doctor told him about all the other people I had healed. However, I am reasonably sure that he will be telling his superiors about me.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall.

<><>

Director Piggot looked up as the intercom buzzed. She had just been in the process of packing up for the night – she had yet to get home and set herself up for haemodialysis – and really didn't need any more distractions. For a moment, she toyed with the notion of ignoring it, but then duty overrode her impulse.

Leaning over, she pressed the button. “Yes?”

“It's Armsmaster, ma'am. I have some news that you need to hear, in person.”

She sighed. “Can it wait until morning?”

“I don't believe so.”

“Fine. Come on in.” She pressed the button that unlocked her door.

Armsmaster strode in, armour marred in the various subtle ways that indicated that he'd had a busy night out. “Thank you, ma'am. I think you'll want to hear this.”

“Well, you're here. Spit it out.”

“First off, the rumours about Marquis are confirmed. He's back in town.”

She blinked. “That's … not good to hear, but at least now we know for sure. Was that it?”

“No, ma'am, that's the least of it. He has a child. A daughter. She's a cape.”

Well, I knew he had a little girl … and now she's triggered. Joy. “What are her powers? More bone-shaping?”

He shook his head. “No. She's a healer. A ranged healer.”

“A … ranged … healer?” She stared at him. “What's her range?”

“It only seems to be a few yards, if that,” he admitted. “But it seems to be a Shaker effect, with her. We had an injured prisoner, and this girl was in the ER waiting room. She'd cleared out the place. As well as their bad accident cases, and their oncology ward.”

“And she healed your prisoner – wait. How did your prisoner get injured, in the first place?”

His mouth tightened. “Mega Girl got a little enthusiastic. But I spoke to her, and she seemed to understand where she went wrong.”

“How bad were the injuries?”

“Left alone, they would have been life threatening. Which is why we took her to the ER. This girl, Marquis' daughter, was there. She called herself Marchioness.” He produced a card and placed it on Piggot's desk. “She had business cards.”

Piggot looked the card over, then put it down. “So she's selling her services?”

“So it seems,” Armsmaster agreed. “She didn't charge us anything this time, but she spoke about setting up a price schedule with the hospital, and doing something similar with us, for healing heroes.”

“Wait, wait.” Piggot held up a hand. “She intends to heal heroes, and charge us to do so?”

“Traction had a badly crippled right arm,” Armsmaster pointed out. “Catastrophic equipment failure. Arm gun blew up. Marchioness brought it back to full function, complete recovery, along with healing her other injuries, in about a minute or so. Or even less; I wasn't timing her.”

“Capes have been getting maimed in Endbringer battles for years,” mused Piggot. “If she could heal that sort of damage, it might just be worth it.”

“Actually, on that note,” Armsmaster put in, “she stated definitively that she would be attending Endbringer battles. For free.”

“And yet, Marquis' daughter … “

“Well, she also said that she would be charging for healing, outside of that situation.” he noted.

“Understood.” She nodded to him. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Also, I will want a full report on Mega Girl's actions on my desk tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He paused. “She was defending me, or thought she was.”

“So noted. A full report.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Dismissed.”

“Good night, ma'am.”

She watched him turn and leave; the door clicked shut behind him. Wearily, she began to finish tidying up her desk. The card caught her eye; she picked it up again, and looked it over before tucking it into a pocket.

By Appointment Only. Good God.

<><>

Overall, I think that it was a successful night out. I spread the word that Father was back in town, and I got to meet Armsmaster. He's got even less of a sense of humor than we see from him on TV, but I have to admit, the man has presence.

I will write you again later. Remain well, and take care of yourself.

Regards,

Marchioness

<><>

Accord folded the letter carefully and put it back away in the envelope. Equally carefully, he placed the envelope in a folder containing several other letters written in the same hand. He had no urge to be a parent, much less go through the messy business of actually fathering a child. Children, indeed, were a thing to be avoided; they had no respect for rules, and no idea of self-discipline. On the other hand, Marquis had raised his child to be reasonably tolerable by any rigorous standard.

Of that, at least, Accord had to approve.

<><>

“Claire, seriously, what were you thinking?”

Marquis' tone was mild, but Claire felt defensive all the same. “I was thinking I could get our names out there,” she replied.

“By going out alone,” he responded grimly. “You have Jonas for a reason.”

“He took me there,” she pointed out. “I just went in alone. Because we don't need people connecting Marchioness with the Marchant family.”

“Still, I don't like the idea of you going out alone. You should have at least told me.”

“And you would've stopped me from going.”

“You don't know that.”

“Well, would you have let me go alone, if I'd told you where I was going?” Her tone was just a little challenging.

He grimaced. “Perhaps not. But -”

“Jonas was parked around the corner. I had my phone. If anything had gone wrong, I would've called him. Nothing went wrong. I even got to meet Armsmaster. Oh, and guess who else I met.”

He paused. “Who?”

“Mega Girl. She's in the Brockton Bay Brigade. She's about my age.”

“Really?” He knew that she was trying to distract him. And she's succeeding too. “Did you speak to her?”

“Oh yeah. She's pretty nice, for a superhero. She's training with the Wards. I gave her a message for Brandish.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh? And what message was that?”

“That Marquis' little girl said hi, and that the table really didn't deserve it.”

“Hah.” He regarded her with an amused eye. “Well, I suppose I don't need to teach you any more about taunting superheroes then.”

“Yeah.” She met his eyes. “Sorry about going behind your back like that, but I really did want to see if I could do it on my own.”

“Hmm.” His expression was fond, belying the gruff tone of voice. “Well, I suppose that no harm was done. Just don't do it again without telling me.”

Earnestly, she nodded. “Okay, Dad.”

“Good. Come here, honey.” He hugged her. “I'm just glad that you're all right.”

“Well, yeah, me too.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “You should've seen the look on Armsmaster's face when he figured out that I was your kid. Well, I couldn't really see his face, but I knew that he had a pretty funny look on it.”

“Heh. And you really told Mega Girl to give Brandish that message?”

“I sure did.”

He chuckled warmly. “That's my girl.”

Part 6