Another Way Pt 13 (Patreon)

[A/N: This chapter commissioned by GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]

Tuesday Afternoon, October 2, 2007

Claire

"The Empire Eighty-Eight is no longer in existence as a coherent organisation," announced Earl Marchant grandly. "This calls for celebration." He poured a glass of champagne for himself, and another for Kayden. She smiled and murmured thanks as she accepted the glass, then moved back to the sofa. Claire, already seated in an armchair with her legs curled under herself, nodded to Kayden and raised her glass of lemonade slightly in a gesture somewhere between a salute and a toast.

"So soon?" asked Kayden. "That's moving kind of quickly, isn't it?" She nodded in return to Claire and took a sip from her glass. "I mean, I know you told Max to dismantle the organisation, but surely the others had more loyalty than that?" Clear in her tone were the unspoken words, I would have stayed longer.

"Apparently not," Earl replied as he placed the bottle back on the sideboard. Crossing the room, he sank on to the sofa next to Kayden. "Not everyone has your sense of honour and loyalty, my dear. It appears they were either in the team because of Max's charisma and persuasiveness or for the money. Lacking a strong leader and a regular paycheck, as well as parahuman backup, it seems the Empire rank and file are slipping away into the night. Any capes that aren't leaving town are keeping their heads well down. Or so my contacts are telling me."

"Except myself, of course." Kayden raised her eyebrows as she took another sip. "Or are you no longer counting me among their number?" Her voice sounded amused. Claire was pretty sure the woman was teasing her father.

Earl's voice, by contrast, was deadly serious. "You were no longer one of them the moment you decided that their perfidy was something that needed to be addressed. An organisation that deals in treachery and backbiting is one that doesn't deserve any level of respect." He reached out and took Kayden's hand, then kissed it gently. Unexpectedly, she blushed.

"Ahem." Claire said the word rather than clearing her throat. "Am I going to have to tell you two to get a room?" She smirked as they both turned to look at her, their faces showing surprise. "What? I've been here the whole time."

"Ah, yes." Earl chuckled a little self-consciously. "My apologies. I let myself become sidetracked. As I was saying, while the Empire itself is no longer a going concern, we have two other problems to deal with. So we must not allow ourselves to become complacent."

Claire frowned. "I'm guessing Lung's one of them. What's the other one?" Lung, the leader of the ABB, had to be making plans for dealing with Marquis, given that the latter had already claimed some of his territory. While dealing with Lung was theoretically easy—all she had to do was get close enough to the guy—she wasn't allowing herself to become complacent quite yet.

"The attack on Danny Hebert," Earl said, to his daughter's surprise. "That wasn't as random as it seemed. After you gave Fleischer his body back, I spent a little time chatting with him. He revealed he'd been paid to have Danny Hebert killed." He let the pause draw out a little, then dropped the bombshell. "By someone connected to the Mayor's office."

"Wait, what?" blurted Claire; on the sofa, Kayden looked almost as shocked. "The … the mayor tried to have Mr Hebert murdered?" Now this was sounding like the plot of a bad movie.

"Hardly." Earl shook his head. "No matter his private feelings on the subject, I doubt Mayor McAuley would stoop so low. But there are others working in that office who benefit by having the Boat Graveyard right where it is. Since I threw my financial weight behind Danny's efforts, I doubt very much that they are at all pleased."

"But wouldn't that mean they were coming after you as well?" Kayden's tone was sincere, and not a little concerned.

"It would." Earl shrugged. "Apparently I was the secondary target, because I'm much harder to get to than him. We can thank Jonas for that." He looked around. "Where is Jonas, anyway?"

"On the way here," Claire reported. "He's in a hurry."

"And so he should be," Earl said firmly. "I left orders to be here at this time. I'm willing to cut him a large amount of slack, but I hope he has a good excuse for his tardiness." He sipped at his glass, then turned toward the door as the burly South African entered. When he spoke, his tone was just a little sarcastic. "Ah, Jonas. So pleased you could take time out of your busy schedule to join us."

Despite the improvements Claire had made to his cardiovascular system, Jonas was breathing hard, which meant that he must have run all the way from his rooms. "Sorry, sir," the bodyguard replied. "Saw something on the news you needed to know about, so I watched it all the way through, just to make sure I had it right."

Earl's head came up. "You have my attention. Please continue."

Jonas grimaced. "Someone just robbed Brockton Bay Savings & Loan," he said. "Someone with bone powers just like yours, sir. Unless you went out this afternoon without my knowledge, you're being framed for it."

By the time Jonas had finished speaking, Earl was on his feet. "I most certainly did not," he declared. "Are you certain that the powers exhibited by this imposter were identical to mine?" His demeanour was outwardly calm and collected, but Claire could tell from the flaring in his nervous system that he was far more angry than he seemed.

"As far as I could tell from the footage, yes, sir," Jonas confirmed. "Whoever it was struck the bank about two hours ago. There was a couple of mooks, both masked. They didn't have anyone filling in for Miss Claire. But the security cameras did get a good solid shot of your Marquis face, which looked deliberate to me."

"Damnation," snarled Earl, turning sharply to Kayden. "You're more well-informed about Brockton Bay's cape scene than any one of us here. Are there any Changers or Trumps in the city that I'm unaware of?" His knuckles began to whiten around his glass.

"Uh, Dad," Claire interjected, nodding toward the glass. "Might want to put that down before you break it."

Startled, he looked down at the glass. Through his nerves, Claire could feel the strain of the muscles in his hand as they clenched on the receptacle. "Right," he said shortly, and put it down on a side-table, before beginning to pace across the room.

Kayden blinked, looking thoughtful. "Uh, there's no Changers or Trumps that I know of," she admitted. "Especially not one who could mimic your appearance and your powers, all at once."

"This may be a little out of left field," Claire suggested, "but what if the guy pretending to be you wasn't even the cape? What if those two 'mooks' with him were the capes?" In this case, it would be a perfect cover, she imagined.

"What are you saying, chick? That they made him look like he had powers, and look like Marquis?" Jonas nodded slowly. "Gotta say, Mr Marchant, I've heard of a lot weirder things."

"Actually …" Kayden sat up, her expression clearing. "There is one possibility, but I don't want you jumping to any conclusions yet."

Marquis turned toward her, his expression becoming even more intent. To Claire, anger radiated off him like heat-waves, but he kept his voice level. "Very well. You have my undivided attention. Please continue."

"Well," Kayden said carefully. "There's a guy in town called Blasto who's a cloning Tinker. He mainly tends to keep his head down and create hybrid minions, but bank robberies are where he makes his bread and butter."

"Blasto." Marquis' voice promised dire retribution to the absent Tinker. "Where might I find this … Blasto?"

"You said you wouldn't jump to conclusions," Kayden reminded him. "It's only a strong possibility, not a definite."

"So noted." Marquis' tone was cool and controlled, in contrast to the dark turmoil of his thoughts. "And where might I be able to find him? For the purpose of a friendly discussion, of course." He put his hands behind his back. Outwardly, it seemed he was simply clasping his hands together, but Claire noticed through her power that his right hand was clenched into a fist, with the left covering the knuckles. Friendly, my ass.

"He maintains a series of safehouses over near the College," Kayden said. "Though from what I've heard, he's careful about covering his tracks. Doesn't have anyone working for him, except for his creations." She gave him a steady look. "What are you going to do to him?"

Marquis gave her a thin smile. "Someone has crossed me, and besmirched my reputation in the process. If this Blasto has nothing to do with it, he has nothing to fear. If, however, he knows who it might be, I'm willing to compensate him for his time." Claire was quite aware that her father had deliberately omitted the final option; from the expression on Kayden's face, so was she.

Draining her glass, Kayden placed it down. "I'm fine with that," she stated coolly. She really was, Claire realised. "Now, from everything I've heard, he needs a DNA sample of some sort. Which raises the question; if he cloned you, where did he get the material from?"

"That's the easy one," Claire said with a roll of her eyes. "Seriously, Dad, you leave bone everywhere we go. I guess it was only a matter of time before we ran into someone who could do something with it."

Earl frowned. "Which gives us a whole new set of problems to work around. To begin with, I'm going to have to shred any bone I create, to ensure that nobody else tries to pull this sort of stunt. As well as having to postpone our plans in order to deal with the current situation, of course." He glanced at Claire, who could read the grim purpose in his brain functions. "Are you ready to do what needs doing, Claire-bear?"

"Do you really need to ask me that, Dad?" Claire raised her eyebrows. "If this Blasto's trying something on you, he's trying it on me too. We're a family. I didn't bite Stormtiger's head off just to let some pretender screw us over at this stage." Privately, she grinned at Kayden's mildly shocked expression.

"That's my girl," Earl declared. He took up his glass, drained it, and set it aside. "Of course, before we go and speak with Blasto, we're going to need to make another stop. Jonas, go and get the limousine ready, if you will?"

"Right you are, sir," grunted the big South African. He turned and left the room, his footsteps almost silent.

Kayden watched him go. "Is it just me, or is he way too quiet?" she asked in a low tone. "Don't get me wrong; I like the guy and he's been nothing but polite to me. But he's so light on his feet it's more than a little creepy."

"Don't bother keeping your voice down," Claire said cheerfully. "He can hear what you're saying from three rooms away. I upgraded his hearing, his balance and his proprioception on the last go-around. Now he can hear a safety catch come off at twenty yards, and he'll never stumble, trip or shuffle ever again." With a shrug, she looked up at Kayden. "It's helpful in a fight." She then brightened. "I could always upgrade you too, if you want. Better reflexes, maybe? And subdermal armour; that's always useful." There was a certain amount of sarcasm in her tone; through her power, she knew that her father had caught her meaning.

"Now, now, Claire, ease off." Earl's tone was chiding, but there was an undercurrent of amusement to his thoughts. With a definite target in mind, she could tell that he was more cheerful. "She's only had a couple of days to get used to you. I'm trying to ease her into getting to know us without frightening her off altogether." He rubbed his thumb across the back of his other hand. "And of course, with my power, total coverage of subdermal armour makes it harder for me to produce bone when and where I need it." He turned to Kayden. "To return to the previous topic, would you like to come along with us? If you intend to make our alliance public, it never hurts to show a unified front."

From Kayden's expression, she was a little taken aback by the rapid-fire banter between Claire and her father. To her credit, the petite woman rallied quickly. "Oh, um, where are you going, exactly?"

"The PRT building," Marquis stated firmly. "I find that going to the top is the best way to get things done." Absently, he rubbed his chin. "And I never did get to visit it, the last time I was in town."

Kayden looked a little confused. "Uh, I get it that Earl Marchant is rich, so they're likely to give you and your daughter a tour, but I'm not sure how you'll explain having me along."

Claire shook her head, a grin beginning to spread over her face. She wasn't a hundred percent sure as to what her father's plan was, but if her guess was at all correct, this was gonna be awesome. "Nope," she said cheerfully. "We're going as Marquis and Marchioness, right, Dad?"

Graciously, he inclined his head in her direction. "Entirely correct, my dear. If I am correct, between our lack of hostile intent and your unique status as an area-effect healer, we should pass unscathed." His smile became slightly more razor-edged. "Though I must admit, taking the opportunity to tweak the noses of those in authority is a guilty pleasure of mine."

"But I'm a known villain," Kayden objected. "Would they leave me alone just for being in your company?" She sounded dubious in the extreme; Claire didn't blame her.

"Sure," Claire told her. "My power is something the PRT would pay literally any amount of money to have on side. Unless I'm totally misreading things, they're willing to bend over backward a really long way to make sure I'll be attending Endbringer attacks if and when necessary. So long as we're not actually attacking them at the moment, I'm pretty sure that you and Dad can both skate by on that."

The math was really simple. Endbringer conflicts invariably ended with maimed and dead parahumans by the dozen, if not the hundreds. Claire's power could save lives, put wounded parahumans back on their feet, and heal crippling injuries in moments. Better yet, she didn't even have to concentrate on one person at a time. Or rather, she could do just that to make things go faster or to get a specific end result, but even when she wasn't concentrating, her power served to bring the subject back up to their normal level of health anyway. And if the PRT and Protectorate weren't willing to make some allowances to get access to that level of capability, she'd be greatly astonished.

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," Kayden said. "But if they try to capture us, I will be blasting my way out. Fair warning and all."

"Understood." Earl nodded briefly. "While I don't believe that it'll be necessary, I do understand the caution."

"Time to get changed?" asked Claire as she got up from her sat. Linking her hands together and stretching them over her head, she began to push her body into its 'Marchioness' form. Her bones reshaped as her auburn hair retracted into her scalp, then grew out again in midnight black. She could feel her clothes hanging differently on her as she became taller and more slender.

"If you don't mind, Claire dear," Earl said, holding out his hand courteously. She took it and began the alteration on his body, even as she finished off her own transfiguration. Both sets of changes included the internal improvements she'd devised. While entirely human-looking from exterior appearances, both Claire and her father ended up rather stronger and more durable than any normal person.

Kayden shook her head as Claire completed her alterations. "That's the second time I've seen you two do that, and I still have trouble believing it. Don't you feel weird? At all?"

"Not in the slightest," Marquis said, his voice slightly lower in timbre than in his other persona. Claire had ensured a change in the vocal cords that would invalidate even Tinkertech voiceprint analysis. His hair was long and curly, and he was taller than 'Earl Marchant'. "At first, I had problems with the different bodily proportions, but my dear Claire smoothed that out after a little testing." He tilted his head and a smile quirked one corner of his mouth. "In fact, how would you like to feed the PRT some disinformation?"

Kayden

While Kayden had no great love for the PRT, she'd learned from her association with Max to never simply agree to a proposition before learning the details. "I'm listening," she said cautiously.

"What Dad's suggesting is that I change your looks so that you can come along to the PRT building with us unmasked," Marchioness filled in. "They'll pretend not to notice, but as soon as you're gone you can bet they'll be carefully scrutinising every frame of the security footage and trying to figure out who you really are." She grinned; it didn't take Kayden long to get the joke.

"And coming up blank." Kayden smirked. "Oh, that's mean. I love it." She paused uncertainly. "Uh, does it hurt, and can you change me back afterward?"

"It won't hurt at all," Marchioness said firmly. "I'll have total control over everything, including pain impulses. In fact, I like you a lot, so my powers won't want to cause you pain. And as for changing you back after, I shouldn't have any trouble, but I'll take some photos for reference anyway." She reached into her pocket for her phone. "Oh, and did you want defensive modifications like we were talking about before? Nanotube laced bones, subdermal armour, stuff like that? Basically impossible to spot without really good scanning, and it makes you a crapload harder to hurt."

Kayden blinked. The revelation that Marchioness' powers were linked to her emotions actually explained quite a bit. "Is that why I've been feeling so upbeat since I joined you and your father?" Another, more worrying thought crossed her mind, and she blurted it out without thinking. "Have you been making me want to be here? Making me loyal to your father?"

Marchioness burst out laughing, but to Kayden's ear it was the carefree mirth of a good joke rather than the sinister chuckling of a master manipulator. "Haha, no," she managed, wiping her eyes. "You wanted to be here, and you were already going to be loyal. My power is being nice to you because you and Dad like each other, not the other way around." She gave a violent shudder. "Not that I'd interfere with that in any way, because eeeewwww!"

"Ah, there you are," Kayden said cheerfully, feeling somewhat more on familiar ground now.

Marchioness blinked. "What do you mean?"

It was time for Kayden to grin. "The thirteen year old. I was wondering if you were still in there."

"Indeed." Earl's tone was dry. "I have wondered that occasionally myself."

In reply, Marchioness stuck her tongue out. It occurred to Kayden that the girl could be playing her even now. What if she's making me think she's telling the truth? She searched her memory, trying to find any point where her attitudes and thoughts had changed direction in a dramatic fashion. The only one she could locate was when Marchioness, in the guise of a flying creature out of nightmare, had informed her that it was Max who'd violated the sanctity of Somers Rock. The shock and anger she'd felt then had been real enough, but even then she hadn't made the decision to leave Max's employ. That had come later, after Marchioness had saved her life. Every move she'd made after that point had proceeded logically, or at least reasonably for her. "Yeah, I guess it would be." She took a deep breath and thought about the offer. It was more or less unprecedented in her experience, but she was doing a lot of new things these days. And the idea of causing the PRT irritation did rather appeal to her. "Sure. Let's do this thing."

"Okay, hold still." Marchioness held the phone up, obviously framing her face with the camera. Kayden heard the electronic shutter-click sound as she looked straight ahead. She kept her position as the teenage girl moved around her, taking photos at intervals. "Okay, that should be enough." The girl stopped taking pictures, and started swiping through the ones she'd already taken. "Yeah, that's good." Shutting down the phone, she put it away. "Right," she said briskly. "What do you want me to change?"

"Oh, uh …" Kayden's mind went blank. "I don't suppose you could make me taller?" As it was, she was currently shorter than Marchioness' altered form.

"Heh, nope." Marchioness grinned. "I suppose I could add an inch or two, but I'd be astonished if the PRT didn't already have a really good estimate of your height. Better to do something with your hair or eyes or skin. Well, scratch that last, because I doubt we could sell the idea that the Empire was more ethnically-diverse than it really was."

Kayden grimaced. Marchioness had a point, even if it wasn't aimed directly as a dig at her. "Okay then, we can still change the shape of my face, right? And my hair?" Even though she'd gone masked as a matter of course, she'd never powered down where unfriendly eyes could see her. It was a tiny piece of institutional paranoia that had served her well in the past.

"Hair, sure." Reaching out, Marchioness touched the end of Kayden's hair. "It's a bit easier than your face, but only by a matter of degree. Let me know what you want and I'll see if I can deliver."

When she was younger, Kayden had had a certain look in mind, but she'd never had the features to pull it off. On thinking about it, she began to wonder about her taste at the time. "Um … I had an idea, but I'm not so sure now."

"Well, whatever it was, I'm sure Marchioness can manage it." Earl bent a benevolent gaze upon his daughter. "She's nothing if not versatile."

Kayden felt a flush begin to creep up her cheeks. "I always wanted to be a tall blonde Valkyrie, even before I met Max. Tall, strong, someone that nobody dared to mess with." She carefully did not mention the inadequacy she felt regarding her bust line; as an adult, it was up to her to deal with that.

"Hmm." An intrigued look crept over Marchioness's face. "Well, we can't change your height, for obvious reasons. But I can certainly do long blonde hair, maybe with a bit of a wave?" She paused, waiting for Kayden's nod. "Okay, cool. And your face, how did you want to change that?"

Bringing her hands up, Kayden cupped her face, pushing her cheeks up. "I'm not exactly striking, you know? I've got a round face. Nobody looks twice at me. A thinner face, a stronger jaw, higher cheekbones … I mean, nothing ridiculous, but …" She flushed again. "I'd like for those superheroes to look at me and for at least one of them to think, 'Whoa!'. Is that stupid?"

With a chuckle, Marquis put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a brief hug. "My dear, you already make me happy to know you, and I appreciate your looks to the fullest, but if you wish to do this, I have no problem with it." He chuckled. "In any case, there's nothing wrong with making a hero consider changing sides, even briefly."

Kayden leaned back against his chest. With Max, it had always felt as though she were trying to earn his regard. Marquis simply made her feel accepted. They hadn't gone past a certain level of physical intimacy yet, but she wasn't ruling anything out at this stage. His words, whether they were sincere or just intended to make her feel more confident, gave her a much-needed boost.

"Thanks," she said, leaning around to give him a kiss on the cheek. Stepping forward, she held out her hand to Marchioness. "Think you can do something with that?"

"Sure, I can try." The slender dark-haired girl took her hand; her eyes went distant for a moment. "Okay, got it. This will probably feel a little weird."

While she wasn't certain what Marchioness meant by 'a little weird', Kayden quickly found out. Her scalp crawled as her hair retracted into it, then she felt the very odd sensation as her facial bones reconfigured. Even her lower jaw changed shape. Before she could really register all of it, there was a slithering feeling as hair extended from her scalp once more, sliding down over her shoulders.

"Okay, done," announced the biokinetic briskly. "Dad, what do you think?"

Marquis gazed at Kayden's remodelled face for long enough that she began to flush once more, then he nodded. "Very nice. I believe the superheroes will indeed be saying 'Whoa!'. If they do not, I shall be questioning their orientation."

"Okay, enough," Kayden said. "I have to go see for myself." She set off toward the nearest bathroom—because, of course, Marquis' house had more than one. Following some kind of unspoken agreement, Marchioness accompanied her while Marquis stayed behind.

Entering the bathroom, Kayden stared into the mirror, and gasped. Her eyes had been a light hazel before; now, they were a deep sapphire blue. The rest of her features had been similarly altered, changing her look utterly. Her button nose now had an aristocratic arch, while her chin was stronger and her cheekbones higher. Her eyebrows, more defined and several shades lighter than before, rose in wings rather than petering out, and her hair …

"Oh, wow," she murmured, running her hands through the luxurious blonde waves. She'd always resigned herself to straight boring brown hair; this was outside of her experience. Turning side-on, she looked at the mirror from the corner of her eye, taking in the way the hair draped over her shoulders. "This is me?"

"It is now," Marchioness confirmed. "Anything you want touched up while we're in here? Feeling comfortable with everything?"

"Um … wow," Kayden said, turning face-on to the mirror once more. "I can't see anything I don't like. Though … uh, I didn't ask for blue eyes. I thought we were trying to get me away from the Empire background?"

"As Dad would put it, I don't believe eye colour will affect their view of you, either way." Marchioness shrugged. "Those who want to believe you're still a neo-Nazi will hold to that, no matter what you look like. But this way, we're playing into their preconceptions, making them more likely to accept that these are your original looks."

"Huh." That made a certain amount of sense. Still, there was no harm in trying out other options. "Would you be able to show me what other eye colours look like? Just in case I like something else better?"

"Sure." Marchioness moved up alongside her, arms folded and one hand supporting her chin thoughtfully. Despite the fact that there was no skin contact, Kayden felt a vaguely odd sensation in her eyes. She stared into the mirror to see her irises transitioning from blue to green and then to a molten gold.

"Holy crap," she blurted. "I didn't know you could do something like that without touching." In the mirror, her blonde hair brought out the gold irises; somehow, Marchioness had made them slightly reflective. It made her look both striking and dangerous, like a powerful visitor from another world. "Oh. Oh, my."

"Sure." Marchioness grinned. "My range isn't great, but it's better when I actually like the people I'm doing it to. You like it? It looks really cool."

"Oh hell, yes," Kayden blurted. "Can I keep it?" Then the rest of what Marchioness had said caught up with her. "What about people you hate?"

Marchioness snorted. "The range goes up again, but my power tries to do bad things to them. If I really despise someone, I find it hard to do serious healing on them. When I was rebuilding Krieg and the others, I had to keep reminding myself that I was gonna screw them over totally with the whole skin colour thing, or they would've ended up with boils or some nasty skin condition or something." She rolled her eyes. "I actually had to fix Kaiser something like three times. His immune system kept crapping out on him."

"Right." Kayden tried not to shudder. Claire was a sweet girl, whether she was in her normal form or her Marchioness identity, but it was a good idea to remember that she would also make a horrific enemy. As Max and the others had discovered, the hard way. "Remind me to never piss you off that badly."

"Hey, it's okay." Marchioness gave Kayden a hug, startling her. "I like you. My power would never do anything mean to you. And I know you'll never do anything bad to me or Dad. It's just not in you."

That was actually reassuring, in a very weird way. She wasn't certain if Marchioness was reading her thoughts or just her emotions, but the fact that they were communicating meaningfully (without any stupid mind games—thanks, Max!) was nice. Also, it was good to know that the girl liked her for herself. Kayden tended to return the sentiment, even if she wasn't sure she was ready for the whole 'mom' role quite yet.

Which brought up something that had been niggling at the back of her mind. When she looked at herself and Marchioness side by side in the mirror, they looked like mother and daughter; apart from the hair and eyes, their facial features were almost identical. The cheekbones, the shape of their faces, even down to the waves in their hair; it had to be more than a coincidence. Though the revelation of the emotional side of Claire's powers made her wonder. Was this deliberate, or is her power reacting to a need for a mother figure?

Was it true, or did she have matters all wrong? What do I do if I'm right? She was certain Claire would never harm her with her powers, but she didn't want to hurt the girl's feelings anyway. It was something she'd have to think about.

"Well, I'll do my best," she said, returning the hug. "I'm just grateful you gave me the benefit of the doubt after Max's idiocy."

"That's okay." Marchioness gave her a final squeeze, then let her go. "Time to go get costumed up, or Dad'll start making veiled comments about women taking forever to get ready." She grinned at Kayden. "I'm glad you like the eyes. They make you look awesome." Turning, she headed out of the bathroom.

With a smile of her own Kayden looked over her new face in the mirror again, marvelling at the golden hair and eyes, and how easy Marchioness had made it seem. It seemed her life had turned upside down since encountering the flying creature over Brockton Bay, but she didn't regret a moment of it. She shuddered to think how it might have turned out if she'd attacked Marchioness; whoever won, it would've gone badly. Learning the true nature of Max Anders was a wake-up call that she'd fortunately survived, but only with the girl's help.

She could have stayed there all day, exploring the nuances of her new face, but she didn't want to be left behind. Not that she thought Marquis would do that, but he was capable of a certain level of sarcasm when necessary. Leaving the bathroom, she went to the room in which she now kept some of her clothes, as well as a spare costume. The one damaged by Max's steel spike had not yet been repaired; she kept it that way to remind herself of the incident.

It only took her a few moments to change into the pure-white costume. By habit, she pulled on the cloth mask that covered the upper half of her face, then stopped herself. Removing it once more, she dropped it on the bed. Her new appearance would serve to conceal her identity more than a flimsy piece of cloth, after all. She wondered if any superhero teams had gone unmasked in this way, but none came to mind. Of course, any such team wouldn't have someone like Marchioness to conceal their identities.

By the time she got back to the living room, Marquis and Marchioness were there, each dressed in their trademark evening wear. As she entered, Marquis began to turn toward her. "Ah, there you are. Actually, I was thinking that if you were agreeable, we could switch out your name and costume for something more in keeping with our current theme. Does that seem worthwhile to …" His voice trailed off as his eyebrows rose toward his hairline. "Well. I am impressed. That will certainly draw attention." She suspected that he saw more than the gold eyes, from the glance he flickered to his daughter and back to her.

All the same, she was pleased by the praise. "Thanks. It was Claire's idea. Um, can we hold off on the new name and costume till we see how the PRT reacts to me like this? If they go all rabid, we might have to rethink the whole idea. Because even if we do that, they'll still know it's me the first time I power up."

He inclined his head. "I understand completely, my dear. Are you ready to go?" Courteously, he extended his elbow in her direction.

"Not really, but let's do this anyway." With a smile that she hoped showed none of the butterflies in her stomach—she was about to walk into the PRT building!—she linked her arm through his. Marchioness took her father's other arm and they headed toward the garage.

Marquis

At Earl's side, Kayden looked around with a faint air of nervousness. She was seated between himself and Claire, but the vehicle was roomy enough that the space was in no way cramped. In the front of the car, Jonas guided the large car through Brockton Bay's afternoon traffic with practised ease.

At the passenger side window, Claire cleared her throat. "So hey, Kayden, did you want defensive mods, or should we leave it off for the moment?"

A little surprised, Earl looked across at his daughter. "You haven't already dealt with that?" he asked. Claire was usually much more on top of matters than this.

"I kinda forgot, and then I had to get ready," Claire admitted, looking slightly embarrassed. "That's why I'm bringing it up now."

"Um, I do appreciate the time to think about it," Kayden put in. "But yes, Claire—I mean Marchioness, sorry. Yes, Marchioness, I would like whatever modifications you think I might find necessary." She paused and added hastily, "Uh, I'll still look like me, won't I?"

Marchioness snorted. "Well, for a given definition of 'you' to look like, sure."

"Oh. Yes." Kayden put up her hand to her face; a most becoming flush mounted her cheeks. Earl would've bet quite a large amount of money that she'd temporarily forgotten she was wearing a new face. "All right, thanks. What are you going to do?"

"Just the basics, really." Claire took hold of Kayden's hand. "Subdermal carbon nanotube armour, bone strengthening, and reinforcement of your vital organs. It'll only take a minute. I'm pretty good at it, now."

"If that's the basics, what's the more advanced stuff?" asked Kayden, quite possibly to take her mind off the fact that a thirteen year old girl was working to reinforce her organs and bones. "Is it that stuff you were talking about with Jonas? The proprioception?"

"That, and partial replacement of the bones with nanotubes, rebuilding and moving organs to be less vulnerable and more efficient, improving the sensorium and reflex triggers," Claire said absently. "Jonas gets to test out stuff like that for me. He's also got a secondary braincase, with shock-absorbing gel between the inner and outer layers. And he can lift nearly half a ton."

"Holy shit," blurted Kayden, looking forward to where Jonas bulked in the front seat. "So you really weren't kidding when you said he took on Hookwolf."

"No, ma'am, they were not." Jonas' deep voice rumbled through the speaker. "Excuse me for the interruption, sir, but we're nearly there."

"Thank you, Jonas," Earl said smoothly. "Ladies, if you're quite finished?"

"Just about," Claire replied almost immediately. "And … done. I doubt they're gonna attack us, but that should give you protection against small-arms fire anyway. A rifle bullet will punch through your skin, but probably won't break bones or do more than bruise an organ. As far as I can tell, anyway. I'm not gonna make any predictions against powers."

"Oh. Right." Kayden flexed her fingers. "I really can't tell the difference. Though I could kind of feel something while you were doing it."

Claire smiled. As Marchioness, she had a good line in enigmatic smiles, which Earl of course encouraged. "If you could, I'd be disappointed in myself. I touched up your joints a fraction, but otherwise you shouldn't really notice any difference in how your body works."

“Okay, thanks.” Kayden looked around as the car came to a halt. “Uh, I hate to make things difficult, but I think I want to start with a different cape name.  I mean, I know they'll figure out I'm Purity anyway, but why borrow trouble right this moment?  The trouble is, I have no idea what name to go with.”

Claire blinked. "Uh, I hadn't thought of one. Dad?"

Earl resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "Well, of course, dearest Marchioness. How does Palatina sound?" Opening the door, he climbed from the car and closed it once more. Normally, Jonas would have performed this function, but Marquis didn't want the big man to be a link between Earl Marchant and Marquis.

Rounding the rear of the car, he opened the passenger side rear door. Claire slid out, expertly arranging her evening gown. Then she stood by as Earl reached in and assisted Kayden from the vehicle. Once they were both out, Earl closed the door firmly; the car moved off and merged with traffic moments later.

"Okay," said Marchioness as they turned toward the imposing frontage of the PRT building, "I'll bite. What's a Palatina?"

"It's derived from a title dating as far back as the Roman Empire," Earl informed her as he led the way to the bastion of law and order. "The Palatine Hill was where the Emperor had his residence, which was where the words 'palace' and 'palatial' came from. A 'palatine' was a high-level official who spent a lot of time on the Palatine Hill, attending to the Emperor. The title stayed in use even after the fall of Rome; you may have heard the term 'paladin', which is also derived from it. It basically means someone who has power just below that of the monarch." He smiled at Kayden. "Thus, my second in charge."

She blinked, whether at the revelation of her new status or the impromptu history lesson, he wasn't sure. "Uh … but what about Marchioness? I'm not, uh …"

Ah, so it was the status she was concerned about. This made him more certain that he'd made the right decision. "Don't be worried about that. She's not exactly in the chain of command. Sometimes I tell her what to do, and sometimes she tells me what to do. I trust her judgement." There was the occasional flare-up of teenage misbehaviour to deal with, but he considered that they had quite an adequate understanding of boundaries there. At least at the moment. When Claire started noticing boys, and they started noticing her, he was going to have to brush up on his subtle—or not so subtle—death threats. The issue was simple; nobody was worthy of his little girl.

"Oh, okay." Kayden shut up as they reached the thick automatic glass doors, which slid aside to let out a gust of chilled air.

"Dad," Claire said rapidly, "you did call ahead, right?" She was good with her powers; even as his tongue pressed into the roof of his mouth to begin shaping the word 'no', she huffed and stepped in front of him. "Right, got it. Stay behind me. No sudden moves. Yeesh."

A little amused by Claire's irritation, he let her take the lead.

Marchioness

Claire opened her throat slightly and reinforced her diaphragm as she stepped forward. The inner doors swished open in front of her and she moved forward into the lobby of the PRT building. "Excuse me, everyone?" she called out, making sure that her amplified voice reached everyone in the room. "Please stay calm. My name is Marchioness. Marquis and I are visiting peacefully. We are not hostile." It took a few seconds for the import of her words to reach everyone, and by then Marquis and Palatina were in the lobby as well.

"Kindly heed Marchioness' words," Marquis said, his voice carrying just as much as hers had. "We bear no hostile intent."

There were four guards spaced around the lobby; two were armed with containment foam sprayers, while the other two had grenade launchers. She almost hoped that they'd try to foam her; if it was organic, she was confident of finding a way of dissolving it. As soon as she began to speak, all of them had brought up their weapons; on hearing her name, they had lowered them again. It's like Dad and I thought; the word's gone out to leave me alone. Now to see if it works for Dad and Kayden as well.

There was a moment of frozen silence, broken only by the teens in the gift shop, peering out to see who was talking. Then one of the PRT men stepped forward. His weapon, a grenade launcher, wasn't quite raised far enough to point at them. "What do you want here, Marquis?"

"To talk to someone in authority, actually." Claire felt her father nudge Kayden, then he moved toward the officer. His hands were in plain view, but that meant nothing; she knew he could produce bone from any part of his body he needed. She kept pace with him, while Kayden did the same on the other side. "I wish to make a statement about the bank robbery this afternoon."

While Claire couldn't see the man's face with her eyes, she could read his body's reactions like a book. His eyes widened in what appeared to be surprise. "You want to turn yourself in?" the man asked, not sounding as if even he believed the answer would be in the affirmative.

"That, I'm afraid, is not the case." Marquis sounded amused, even though adrenaline was singing through his veins. "I really would rather speak to one of your superiors, though, unless you want this conversation to take place in such a public arena." His smile was that of a man who knew he held all the cards. "I rather suspect that your superiors would not appreciate that happening."

Though no sound was audible from where she stood, Claire knew that the soldier was hearing something over the radio in his helmet. Unfortunately, she was only able to tell this from the regular vibrations in his eardrums; deciphering the speech would require her to be close enough to lock on to his brain activity. It was far too soon for anyone to be giving orders, so she assumed that one of the other soldiers was reporting on the situation.

She heard a clicking noise and looked over to see that the teenagers were taking pictures of the standoff; feeling just a little mischievous, she smiled and waved. The soldier's hand tightened on his weapon, but he didn't raise it. She guessed he was irritated at the interruption. Her father, on the other hand, stood with his hands folded before him in a supremely relaxed pose that she knew was almost entirely feigned. Kayden was feeling nerves in a big way; Claire eased off the older woman's production of epinephrine, trying to help her relax slightly.

Something else came across the radio; the soldier's neck muscles twitched, as if he wanted to nod. Instead, he spoke, softly enough that it didn't carry out of the helmet. Some kind of selective sound dampening? Claire had no idea how to tell. However, she could tell what he was saying.

"Grant, here. There's three of them. Marquis, Marchioness, and a woman in white. None of them are masked. I've never seen the woman in white before. About five foot two. She's got a face you don't forget, and her eyes are gold. The irises, I mean. Uh, they haven't done anything aggressive. They just want to talk to someone in authority, about the bank robbery." A pause, while someone spoke to him. "I don't know. Marquis said that you wouldn't like it if he had to say it in public." Another pause. "Wait, you're going to actually—uh, I mean, yes, ma'am. I copy. Conference room three, roger. I'll escort them up. Grant, out."

Claire hid a smile as he turned his attention to them. "All right, then," he said out loud. "You'll have your meeting. I'm going to need you to come with me and hand over any … uh."

"If your next word was going to be 'weapons', I believe you need to rethink your request," Marquis interjected, his voice filled with amusement. He broke off the bone knife which had grown in his hand, then let it dissolve into dust. Claire winced inwardly at the stab of pain that went through him, but decided that if he wasn't going to say anything about it, nor was she.

"Why don't we just go up?" Claire asked jauntily. "Conference room three, wasn't it?" She probably shouldn't have felt amusement at his start of surprise, but she did anyway. She was, after all, her father's daughter.

"Yes," growled Grant, shooting her a look of deep suspicion from behind his faceplate. "Come on, then. This way." He led the way toward the bank of elevators at the back of the lobby. Claire followed, making sure to stay close to her father and Kayden both; she didn't want to give the PRT even the slightest chance to split them up. In the process, she got close enough to Grant that she could pick up his mental processes.

He was apprehensive and determined in equal parts, but she could detect no deceit from him. This wasn't a trap; or if it was, he wasn't part of it. She had to admire how he was hiding his dislike of the situation he was in; if she couldn't see it for herself, she'd never have known it.

"Is there a problem, Lieutenant?" asked a voice over his radio. It sounded like a woman, maybe in her forties.

"Not a real problem, ma'am," he answered out loud. "Addition to the file: Marchioness appears to be a Thinker, able to hear through soundproofing."

"Understood, Lieutenant. All other units, switch to alternate frequency Delta. Over."

Claire blinked, suddenly wishing she hadn't shown off. All it had done was make them suspicious of her, without any real gain. Neither the flare of irritation in her father's mind nor the sharp glance he sent her way were really necessary to make her realise the significance of her blunder.

It was only moderately crowded with all four of them in the elevator, the majority of the bulk coming from Grant's containment foam tanks. The button panel was actually a digital screen, Claire noted. As she watched, both it and the floor display went dark. However, this didn't seem to be a glitch, because the lights stayed on in the lift and the doors interleaved together in a way that screamed 'Tinkertech' to anyone with any experience of capes in pop culture.

There was only the slightest jolt as the lift began to move, and barely any sensation of movement at all after that. The only way Claire knew they were travelling at all was the way she could sense people in the building outside the lift, dropping away below them, rather faster than she would've expected.

The trip in the elevator would've been awkward, but it was over too quickly for that. When the doors opened again, she felt a jolt of surprise from both Kayden and her father. Grant must've seen something in their faces, because satisfaction flared in his brain and he smirked slightly inside his helmet before stepping out of the elevator.

"Come on out," he said. "If you wander off, it will be taken as a hostile act." His tone wasn't exactly aggressive, but he wasn't giving an inch either. Claire didn't really blame him.

"I assure you, not one of us would dream of it." Marquis stepped aside to leave Kayden and Claire a clear path from the elevator. As he did so, she noted another person approaching, one who seemed familiar. Stepping to her father's side, she looked around to see she'd been right. It was Armsmaster; unlike the last time she'd met him, he was holding his trademark halberd.

"Uh, hi, Armsmaster," she said, determined not to repeat her earlier faux pas. "You're looking well. I saw Mega Girl the other night. She seemed to be doing well too."

"Marchioness," he acknowledged her, but his attention was on Kayden. "I don't know you. Please identify yourself." Despite the courteous phrasing, the tone of his voice made it an order.

"Uh, I'm Palatina," Kayden replied. Claire silently let go the breath she'd been holding; there'd been the very real chance that she'd use her previous name.

Armsmaster held still for a moment, his eyes roving over a heads-up display. Claire could see it, but she couldn't share his understanding of what it meant, especially as the display changed faster than she could keep up with. Then a line of text popped up: VOICE ANALYSIS: NO MATCH. Claire schooled her expression into blankness; the alterations she had made to Kayden's larynx were subtle, but had obviously done the job.

"You're not in our files," Armsmaster announced. "Why are you even involved with Marquis?" His tone was slightly harsher now, and more adrenaline was going through his system. Not surprising, as he was facing what, to him, was an unknown cape.

"Kaiser blew up Somer's Rock and tried to kill Marquis and Marchioness," Kayden said, truthfully but unhelpfully. "I was in the area, and decided to help them out."

Surprise flashed through both Armsmaster's and Grant's brains, but the armoured hero recovered first. "We're going to need more details on that," he stated. "Such as details on exactly who died there."

Claire shared a glance with her father. This was not what she'd expected they'd be talking about when they went into the PRT building. "Only the wait-staff at Somer's Rock died," he said, saving her the problem of having to figure out what to say to that. "Now, I believe you were showing us to a conference room?"

Armsmaster's lips thinned, but he nodded. Frustration radiated from him like heat shimmer over an asphalt road at midday; she didn't even need her powers to spot it. Turning, he led the way down the corridor. Marquis followed along, with Claire and Kayden behind him; Grant brought up the rear. Several office doors, all devoid of identifying nameplates, went by before Armsmaster opened a set of double doors and stepped inside. Claire could easily detect the PRT troopers in the offices. Each one was feeling a mixture of determination and apprehension, but none of them were worked up to the point where they were about to attack.

With Kayden at her side, Claire followed her father into the conference room. It was equipped with a long table, lined on each side by chairs; the wall at one end was mostly taken up by a huge screen. Marquis pulled out chairs for each of them, then took a seat himself. Armsmaster, followed by Grant, moved around to the far side of the table. The Brockton Bay Protectorate leader took up a foursquare stance with his halberd still in his hands; after a moment, Grant emulated him.

The screen came to life, showing the head and shoulders of a woman with a careworn face and dark brown hair starting to go grey here and there. From the suit she wore and the discreet insignia on her shoulders, Claire gathered that this was the regional Director of the PRT East-North-East.

Emily Piggot was not a regular TV personality, and from the expression on her face, it wasn't hard to figure out why. Piggot didn't treat her position as Director as a vehicle for fame; she was here to do a job. And from her glare, Marquis wasn't making it any easier on her.

"Ah, good afternoon, Director." Her father was definitely pouring on the charm. Claire could read wary respect in his mind, so she decided to treat the Director in the same way. "So very kind of you to host us today. We have some good news for you."

"You realise that I could have you all detained and arrested right now." Piggot's voice was flat and hard. "Marquis, you have enough crimes against your name that you would be remanded immediately to the Birdcage. Palatina, be aware that you are associating with a criminal with a very long rap sheet. Now that you know this, also be aware that further association could very easily lead to arrest and criminal charges."

Claire read apprehension and the beginnings of anger from Kayden; reaching over, she pressed the older woman's hand. Wait. Kayden subsided, just slightly.

"Oh, you could try." Marquis leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers together. He could only have appeared more relaxed if he had his feet up. "But you won't, will you? All this is merely a show, an attempt to intimidate us. The unofficial policy regarding myself and Marchioness is 'hands off', isn't it?"

"You seem very certain about that." Armsmaster's voice was harsh. "I've encountered many criminals who thought they couldn't be arrested. Most of them are in custody." He was once more too far away from Claire to read his brain activity, but from the way he was gripping his halberd, he wasn't happy.

"Oh, it wasn't hard to determine this." Claire could almost feel the waves of smugness coming off of her father. "We encountered the Brockton Bay Brigade just the other night. My men had intervened to protect some civilians from Empire thugs in my territory. While Brandish was determined to arrest my men, neither she nor the rest of the Brigade tried to to arrest me." Carelessly, he buffed his immaculate nails against his coat, then continued. "Now, this may be because they know they don't stand a chance against me, but that's never stopped them before. Which means to me that they've been warned off. And perhaps the only person who could successfully warn them off, and make it stick, would be …" He waved a courteous hand toward the screen. "Yourself, dear Director. Am I perhaps getting warm?"

He'd done more than get 'warm', Claire decided. The Director looked as though she were sucking on a lemon, and had been doing so for the last week. "Be that as it may," she grated. "You came here to give us some information. What is it?"

"Ah, ah, ah, my dear," he admonished her, waving a nonchalant finger. "Before we commence, there is first the matter of Palatina's status; specifically, that she is recognised as being affiliated with Marchioness and myself, and thus enjoys the same immunity from arrest. Are we agreed on this?"

There was the sound of something snapping off-screen; Claire fancied that it might be a pencil. Jerkily, Piggot nodded. "Agreed, on the provision that this conversation goes no farther than this room." She sat forward. "Now. The information on the bank robbery."

Marquis straightened in his seat, casting off the careless air. "That's quite simple. I didn't do it."

"You expect us to believe that?" Armsmaster stepped forward, until his halberd bumped one of the chairs. "We have footage showing your face, you bastard. You've done far worse in your career. Why are you denying your involvement in this, of all things?"

"For a start, Armsmaster, unless you wish to match off with me again, I would advise you to keep this discussion civil." Marquis' tone never lost its cultivated air, but there was the hint of something darker behind it. "I am saying it because it happens to be true. Be aware that I'm already ridiculously wealthy. Unless the haul from this robbery were several magnitudes higher than I suspect it was, I simply would not be interested." He tilted his head. "Asking from curiosity, how much was taken? To the nearest thousand will do."

Armsmaster glanced at the screen. Director Piggot hesitated, then nodded almost imperceptibly. "Two hundred and thirty-three thousand dollars," she replied. "In addition, a security guard was badly hurt, and two hostages and a bank teller were slightly injured."

Marquis' expression sharpened. "Women and children?" he asked, his tone flat.

"One of the injured hostages was a woman," Armsmaster supplied. Claire wondered what was going through his mind; whether he was actually coming around to the truth, or if he was just playing along with Director Piggot's line.

"I … see." Marquis opened his coat and reached inside. Armsmaster stepped back and levelled his halberd, while beside him Grant did the same with the foam sprayer. Raising one eyebrow, the bone manipulator slid a leather wallet from the inner pocket of his coat. "Really?" he asked, eyeing the weapons currently aimed in his direction. "You do realise that if I were to pull out a gun, you would be substantially safer than if I decided to use my powers, correct?"

Armsmaster was the first to raise his weapon; Grant followed suit. Inside his helmet, the PRT officer had a look of mortification. Claire decided not to point this out.

"Good," murmured Marquis. "Now we have that settled …" Tapping his fingernail down the row of cards contained in the wallet, he selected two and skimmed them across the table. "Consider this a declaration of my innocence in the matter."

Stepping forward once more, Armsmaster eyed the cards with (Claire could tell) deep suspicion. "What are they?"

"Welcome to the world of high finance, dear boy." Marquis put the wallet away and waved a negligent hand. "They contain the access details for funds held in escrow. The red one with white lettering holds a quarter of a million dollars. Reimburse the bank with that. The green one holds a hundred thousand dollars. Pass that on to the victims, to cover their medical bills. Is that easy enough to understand?"

"Wait, you're giving money away?" Director Piggot didn't seem to be able to comprehend the concept. "You're a villain. Why?"

Marquis shrugged. "As I said before, I happen to be ridiculously wealthy. This sort of expenditure is literally pocket change for me. I wouldn't even consider robbing a bank for less than ten million. It simply wouldn't be worth my time any more. And I will not permit my name to be connected to any endeavour where women or children were harmed. Is that understood?"

The lines on Director Piggot's face deepened, as if she were in pain. "It's understood. Of course, I can't say anything officially, but I'll do what I can unofficially."

"If you didn't do it, who are you accusing of doing it?" asked Armsmaster. His voice didn't give away much, but Piggot's agreement had to have had some effect. He didn't sound quite as hostile as before, which had to be something.

When Marquis smiled, his eyes were hooded. "We'll leave that for later. You wanted to know about Somer's Rock? The details there get a little more complicated."

"Our analysts found five separate blood traces, as well as a mass of bone. Your work?" The question from Armsmaster was almost polite. That is, as polite as anything asked by a man holding a halberd can really be.

"The bone, yes," agreed Claire's father. "The blood, no. We were attacked by four members of the Empire after they killed the wait-staff and blew up the venue in an attempt to assassinate us, on Kaiser's orders." The smile he bestowed upon Armsmaster and the PRT personnel was downright chilling. "What happened next was pure self-defence."

"What did happen next? Who did you kill?" Piggot's face was even closer to the camera.

"As it happened, nobody." Marquis smiled sardonically at the look on her face. "But the upshot of it was that Kaiser dissolved the Empire Eighty-Eight. He's left town, as have Krieg, Hookwolf, Cricket and Stormtiger. All hale and hearty, if not the most thrilled."

"Do you have proof of that? Any evidence at all?" Armsmaster leaned forward expectantly.

Marquis chuckled as he pushed his chair back and stood up. "Do you take me for a hero? If I don't have to follow the rule of law, I'm certainly not obliged to follow the rules of evidence. I'm telling you this, and you may choose to believe it or not, as you will." Courteously, he pulled out Kayden's chair, then Claire's. "Ladies, if you will, we shall be leaving now."

"Wait." The Director sat back in her chair. "We hadn't finished talking about who robbed Brockton Savings and Loan."

"True; we had not." Marquis inclined his head politely toward the screen. "I have a strong idea as to who has stolen my good name. Now, I intend to go and get both it and my money back. This is my last word on the subject."

"But who is it?" Armsmaster was nothing if not persistent.

Marquis smiled indulgently. "And give you the chance to get there first? I think not. You may read about it in the papers tomorrow. Now, are you going to escort us out or do we have to make a hole in the wall? Your choice."

As Lieutenant Grant led them from the room, Claire waved to the screen. The Director did not return the gesture.

Part 14