Another Way Pt 15 (Patreon)

Part Fifteen: Closing In

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

Earl

Jonas pulled the car to a halt in the garage. Earl got out of the front seat, then opened the back door for Claire. On the far side of the car, Jonas was doing the same for Palatina. With a smile at her father, Claire alighted from the vehicle then leaned in to look at the Lung clone and the two ersatz ABB gangsters. "Out you get," she said firmly. "Follow me. Don't do anything silly, hmm?" Turning to Earl, she raised an eyebrow. "Basement?"

"Basement," he agreed.

Obediently, the three men climbed from the car and fell into line behind her as she headed for the door into the house proper. Earl shared a glance with Jonas, who gave the faintest of shrugs as he pressed the fob to re-lock the car. Don't look at me. She's your daughter.

Kayden had less in the way of self-composure. "Is it just me," she murmured to Earl as they followed along behind, "or is that creepy as hell?"

Earl held out his arm, and she linked hers through it. "Possibly," he conceded. "But you have to admit, it's also extremely impressive. I couldn't be prouder of her. She's coming into her abilities very effectively indeed."

"True. What's she going to be like when she's twenty?" She sounded curious rather than apprehensive.

"God only knows." He chuckled. "Probably allowing the President to keep his job because she can't be bothered doing the paperwork."

"Will you be needing me, sir?" asked Jonas.

Earl considered the question. "I shouldn't think so, Jonas," he said. "Though refreshments might be in order. Perhaps a light lunch?"

"Very good, sir." Jonas headed for the key safe.

As they went out the door, Kayden laced her fingers through Earl's. "Where did you find him?" she asked in a low tone. "Max never got that level of loyalty without either brainwashing people with the Cause or paying large amounts of money. Or both. Claire told me about how he went toe-to-toe with Hookwolf, to buy her time to save you. I don't know anyone else who would've done that."

"Well, I do pay him what he's worth," Earl pointed out. "But apart from that, he's been with us for years. Claire loves him like an uncle, and I consider him to be more of a good friend than an employee." He quirked a grin. "And of course, there's the fact that Claire is offering the best health care in the world."

"There is that," she agreed dryly.

As they reached the basement stairs and proceeded down them, his thoughts went back to Kayden's earlier comment. Creepy, nothing. She's terrifying. But she's my kind of terrifying.

It was an oddly comforting thought.

Claire

The more Claire saw of the pseudo-Lung, the more she hated Blasto. Before, when he'd just been the guy who'd framed her dad for robbing a bank (and oh, the memory of the look on the Director's face when he just casually paid it all back was amazing) she'd just disliked him. Despised, rather. But not hated. Hate was an emotion she reserved for people she could easily kill, if they gave her a reason.

She didn't hate him for framing her father. She hated him for creating a living being that had just enough sapience to be used as a robot, as a slave, but not enough that they could live and survive on their own. That was something she swore to herself she'd never, ever do. Some lines should never be crossed, after all.

The human brain was a wondrous place. Full of beautiful interactions and feedback loops, creating the emergent status occasionally referred to as 'self-awareness'; Claire was often in awe of it. No two brains were exactly alike. While the underlying chemical mechanisms were the same, the way each person processed data and came to their own conclusions was subtly different. The pathways formed by life and experience were different in every case. Every brain was an artwork, a da Vinci or a Rembrandt, full of exquisite detail, almost fractal in nature at times.

By comparison, the clone's brain was a finger painting. There was no subtlety, no delicacy. A series of mental states: attack, flee, do-what-I-say, a few others. A language centre that allowed 'Lung' to understand spoken commands. Virtually all higher thought processes were replaced by inputs via the vomeronasal system. He had no real thoughts about what was happening. No curiosity, no apprehension. She was pretty sure he didn't even understand that she and her father were nominally the enemy.

The two gang thugs, on the other hand, were fully aware that she was the enemy. Initially, she'd taken away their ability to have any say about what was going on, leaving their brains working just fine. After a few moments, though, she'd been forced to take measures to damp down the internal screaming. If she let them flail around inside their own heads for too long, they might drive themselves insane, and that would be a pain to fix. Now, they still knew she was the enemy; they just didn't care.

She pointed at an empty area of floor. "Sit." Obediently, the three sat. Looking around toward her father, she raised an eyebrow, silently asking if he wanted to take over. He shook his head, then crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. The message was clear: she was in the driver's seat. Kayden hesitated, then followed Earl's lead.

All right, then. The knowledge wasn't as daunting as it might have been. When she'd first reached Brockton Bay, there had been the undercurrent of worry that she didn't really know what she was doing. But now, after what had already gone down, she had much more confidence in herself. She had the measure of the opposition, now.

Questioning the Lung clone would reveal nothing of use. Even if he knew anything, from what she could tell, he was only barely verbal. However, his two cohorts had both the knowledge she wanted and the means to convey it to her. She turned to the guy on the left. "You. What's your name?"

"Sugito," he said dully. His brain activity showed that he was being truthful, mainly because he didn't feel strongly enough about the matter to lie about it.

"Okay, Sugito," she said. "What was this about? What's the point of having a clone of Lung attack the PRT building?"

"Blasto wants the PRT to arrest Lung," Sugito replied simply. "If the clone killed people, Lung would get the Birdcage. That would take Lung out of Brockton Bay permanently."

Which pretty well agreed with their assumptions so far, and confirmed that Blasto was behind it all. Still, there were a few things Claire wasn't certain about. "Why are you working for Blasto? I didn't know he had human minions."

"When Lung killed Dao, we had to run for it because he was gonna kill us next. I had one of Lung's scales and some of Marquis' bone, so Blasto let us work for him."

"Which is how he made a clone of Marquis to rob that bank," Claire stated. It wasn't exactly a difficult guess.

"Yes," Sugito confirmed. "On the next bank robbery, Marquis will take hostages and slaughter them all before escaping."

Earl stepped forward off the wall at that point. "Really," he hissed. "Why didn't that happen, this time?"

Sugito looked at Claire and said nothing. She repeated the question.

"There weren't enough people, and Pak and me thought it was best to go before the capes showed," Sugito explained in the same deadpan voice. "Blasto was angry. He told us to wait longer, the next time."

"When will the next time be?" asked Claire.

"This afternoon."

Claire met her father's eyes, then looked back at Sugito. "Where?"

"Brockton Bay Central Bank," Sugito said.

"But you're here, not there." Claire felt a burst of hope. "This means it's not going to happen."

Sugito shrugged. "If we're not back in time, Blasto will probably send someone else."

And people will die. Claire didn't have an overriding sense of the sanctity of human life—there were people who needed to die, after all—but casual murder wasn't something she approved of. Especially when it came to framing her father for that same murder. "How many people is he likely to send, and how heavily will they be armed?"

"I don't know," said Sugito. "Three or four, maybe, with guns or knives. But they won't use them unless they're attacked. The whole idea is to show Marquis as a mass murderer."

"How do you give him your orders?" asked Claire. Having the supposed minions telling the boss what to do during the robbery wasn't exactly the height of discretion.

"We say things in certain ways normally," Sugito explained. "Like, 'maybe it would be a good idea to do this, boss'. But we had gas bombs to drop when we wanted him to go all murderboss."

Pheromone signals, right. "And Blasto sprayed you with something before you went out?"

"Yes." His emotions were flattened almost to non-existence, but he looked at her with as much curiosity as he was able. "How did you know that?"

"Lucky guess." It hadn't been hard to figure out. Blasto wouldn't want his minions shredded by the fake Marquis, so he'd sprayed them with something that would cause the clone to treat them as friends. She turned to her father. "Okay, we've got a problem."

"Yes, we do." He frowned heavily. "This is becoming more and more ridiculous. First, we had to save the PRT from Lung. Now, we must act to prevent a bank robbery."

"On the upside, this will confuse the Director even more," she pointed out. "And then we can go and smack down Blasto."

"Something I will probably enjoy far more than I should," he declared. "But for now, let's focus on preventing a massacre." He turned to Kayden. "I know this probably isn't what you signed up to do. You can come with us, or stay out of it. Your choice."

"You have to be joking." Kayden stepped forward. "Of course I'm coming along. I'm part of this team now, aren't I?"

"You most certainly are," Earl agreed warmly. "Now, as for these ones …" He cast an unfavourable eye over the seated trio. "What should we do with them?"

"We don't have to make that decision right now, Dad," Claire pointed out. "I can leave Lung two-point-oh here, and make sure that Dumb and Dumber don't wander off while we go make sure you don't get blamed for something else you haven't done."

"Yes." He turned to Kayden. "Could you please find Jonas and let him know we're heading out again? The light lunch is going to have to wait."

"Sure," she said, then leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. "Don't leave without me." She headed up out of the basement, taking the stairs two at a time.

Claire hid a smirk at her father's momentarily startled look, and turned toward the three prisoners. "Right, then. You two. Don't leave the house. Don't steal or damage anything in the house. Don't try to communicate with anyone outside the house. Don't try to give this clone any orders. Unless you need to go to the bathroom or get a drink of water, stay in this basement. Don't make a mess. Do you understand me?"

Sugito nodded, and his friend followed suit. "Yes," said Sugito.

Satisfied, Claire turned to the clone. "Sleep," she said firmly, giving him a dose of the appropriate pheromones to reinforce the order. His physiology was robust enough that he wouldn't need to eat or relieve himself for the next few hours. Or even the next day, if it came to that. Obediently, he subsided on to his side and closed his eyes.

"Okay, we're done," she told her father. "Dumb and Dumber will follow the last orders I gave them. The clone will sleep until I wake him up. Let's go."

"It seems a little … cold," he said after a moment's thought. "Calculating. Treating people like robots. Go there, do that."

She snorted with laughter. "Dad, seriously? You're a supervillain. You've killed people before. I've killed people before. I can't believe you have a problem with this. Especially with people who tried to frame you."

"Killed, certainly," he agreed. "Not made into puppets. Making people suffer is inefficient, unless the whole point is to make an example of them. And we have nobody here to make an example of them to. On the whole, I prefer to dispose of people quickly and cleanly."

"Oh, they're not suffering," she said hastily. "I've turned down their emotions so they can't feel much of anything. And I'm pretty sure the clone can't suffer. He doesn't know how."

"And is this 'turning down of emotions' permanent or temporary? Just out of curiosity."

"Permanent, until I reverse it," she said. "We don't want them snapping out of it at the wrong moment. Also, until I did it, they were on the way to driving themselves into psychosis. Right now, they just don't care."

"Just so long as you don't decide to keep them in this state, afterward," he said. "I may be a ruthless killer, but there are some things we don't want the PRT knowing about you."

"I suppose you have a point," she agreed. By now, they were at the car, which was sitting with its engine running. The back door was open, with Kayden already in the back seat, waiting for them.

Without pausing, Claire slid into the car beside Kayden, then Earl got in after her. Pulling the door shut, he began to fasten his seatbelt. "When you're ready, Jonas."

"Right you are, sir." Jonas hit the garage door opener, and set the car moving.

"So, you two were having a very animated discussion just now," Kayden noted. "Was it about how we're going to dispose of our unwanted guests?"

"In a way," Earl said. "How did Max handle things like that?"

She wrinkled her nose. "Usually by dressing it up as an execution with honour or something like that. Or he got Hookwolf to kill them, then chop them up into small pieces. If he wanted to hide the fact that a murder had happened at all, the remains got dissolved in acid or dumped out at sea. Otherwise, the remains would be dumped in the territory of whichever gang they came from."

"Yay." Claire kept her voice absolutely deadpan.

"Actually, I'm not sure why you're even asking," Kayden said. "I mean, you're Marquis. You pioneered the art of disappearing minions who displeased you. Not to mention the occasional opposition cape. You even killed Iron Rain."

Earl chuckled lightly. "My dear, I believe it's time I let you in on a little secret. I didn't kill half the people who have been ascribed to me."

Kayden blinked. " … what? No, no, that's not right. Max told me all about you. You were the boogeyman of Brockton Bay. Nobody crossed you, if they could help it. Even Jack Slash left town rather than get on your bad side."

"Just as planned," he said. "If people already believe you're a heartless killer who'll snuff you out in a moment, they tread very lightly around you. Oh, I have killed before, and I'll kill again. But I didn't kill Iron Rain, and I never murdered any minions simply for disappointing me."

She frowned, then. "But Max said …" Slowly, she trailed off.

"Max was repeating what his father told him," Marquis explained. "The Teeth were in town at the time. They murdered Iron Rain, but at the same time, they were having trouble with a couple of intrusive Protectorate capes. So they hired the Nine to come in and deal with the problem. The Nine did it, but they had a habit even then of turning on their employers. I was going after the Teeth at the same time, ironically enough because I disapproved of them murdering a woman in my town. Between us, we whittled the Teeth down to Butcher … Seven, I think, who fled town. I told the Nine to leave as well but they refused, so I killed Psychosoma and Nice Guy. Jack Slash got the message after that, and did as he was told."

Claire smiled slightly. She already knew this story. It never failed to amuse her when people simultaneously considered her father to be a stone killer while acknowledging the fact that he'd tussled with the Brockton Bay Brigade on several occasions without ever killing a single one of them. People saw what they wanted to see, she figured.

"What happened then?" asked Kayden, her voice almost a whisper.

"Well, then I spoke with Allfather. We agreed that I would publicly wear the blame for Iron Rain's murder and that he'd swear vengeance, but would never follow through with it. This way, my reputation as a heartless killer was enhanced, and he didn't have to publicly admit that he owed me by acknowledging that I'd avenged her. The Nine got the credit for smashing the Teeth, and all was right with the world."

"Okay, wow." Kayden shook her head. "So you never killed Iron Rain. What about your minions? That story had to start somewhere."

"Oh, it did." Earl leaned back in his seat. "This one goes back a ways, to when I first began my rise as the Marquis of Brockton Bay. After my first few victories, I began to fancy myself as a mentor of sorts to up and coming young villains. I took a couple of them under my wing and began to show them the tricks of the trade. However, it didn't pan out exactly as I'd envisaged."

"They turned on you," Kayden guessed. It wasn't exactly a difficult conclusion to reach.

"They turned on me," he confirmed. "It was after our first big score. I'd led them though it by the numbers, showing them how easy it could be, done properly. This was most likely a mistake. They didn't think they needed me any more, and all that money was a potent lure for treachery. I killed them, of course, then put the word out that they'd 'disappointed' me. By betraying me, was what I meant. But the subtleties were lost on the Brockton Bay underworld. Not long after, some of my normal minions were killed in a clash with the Empire. To make it appear that I'd lost fewer men than I had, I disappeared those bodies as well, and proclaimed that they, too, had disappointed me. It didn't take long for the story to take hold that anyone who disappointed me vanished forever." He smiled dryly. "It led to a certain level of loyalty among the men. Nobody joined me who didn't mean to give one hundred percent to the cause, and I rewarded them accordingly. Of course, that was also my downfall."

"Your downfall?" Kayden sounded utterly fascinated. Claire had been too, when she'd heard this for the first time.

"Yes." Earl frowned. "The Brockton Bay Brigade latched on to my reputation as a murderous psychopath and used that as an excuse to hound me relentlessly, or as relentlessly as they were able. While, at the same time, benefiting from the known fact that I never go after women or children. I strongly suspect that my men began to use my reputation to haze the new hires, and it backfired when one of them failed me in some minor way. He didn't know what the rest of them knew, that the 'disappointment' story was merely a canard, so he bolted to the heroes and sold me out to save his own skin."

"And nearly got me killed in the process," Claire rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Being a new hire, he probably didn't know about me. When the Brigade came to the house, they were shooting blasts everywhere. Dad had to show them I was there before they'd stop." She still vaguely recalled the incident, mainly because she'd been over it with her father several times over the years.

Kayden shook her head. "This is … wow. This is not what Max led me to expect from you."

One corner of Earl's mouth quirked upward. "Disappointed that I'm tamer than the expectations?"

"Hardly." She smiled in return. "I've spent the last few years in the company of people who strive to make people think they're more dangerous than their reputations would suggest. It's a breath of fresh air to have you explain that the opposite is true."

Before Earl could comment on this, the car pulled to a halt. "Brockton Bay Central Bank is one block ahead, sir," Jonas said. "There's nothing on the police scanner as yet, but that doesn't mean anything." He turned to look back at Earl. "Will you be needing any assistance, sir?"

"I'd like to say 'no', but considering recent events, that's tempting fate." Earl rubbed his chin. "Stay on alert. If we do need you, we'll need you fast."

Jonas nodded briefly. "Very good, sir." From the glovebox, he pulled out a balaclava and a large pistol. "I'll be contacting reinforcements and moving them into the area, just in case."

Earl got out of the car, then assisted Claire and Kayden out as well. Nobody commented on Jonas' preparations. The big man had been a capable soldier of fortune well before joining Earl's employ. As far as Claire could tell, Brockton Bay was just another battlefield for him.

Once again, nobody seemed to take any particular notice as they made their way down the sidewalk. This was almost certainly due to the fact that only Kayden wore anything resembling a typical costume, being skintight and pure white. For herself and her father, the evening dress was a little unusual as it was still broad daylight, but not hugely so. If they'd skulked along and attempted to conceal their presence, everyone would be paying attention to them. As it was, a few people took photos with their phones. She wondered how many of them recognised her father for who he really was.

"Marchioness." Her father's tone was sharp. He inclined his head, indicating four figures who had just gotten out of a car outside the bank, still half a block away. One was taller than the other three. Even at this distance she could recognise the profile of her father's face, or rather that of his clone. "I believe we should hurry."

"I think I can get them before they get inside," Kayden said tensely, a glow building up around her hands.

"Chase them away from the bank, if you can," Earl said. "Don't shoot if you can avoid it." It was obvious to Claire why he'd added that; Kayden's blasts were vigorous, to say the least. A direct hit would smear a normal across the street.

"Got it." Kayden powered up fully, and launched herself forward. Claire adjusted her eyes toward the low infrared; she could still see what was going on, but Kayden's glare wasn't blinding her any more.

Earl started forward with Claire at his side. "Let's try to capture rather than kill," he said, breaking into a run. The high heels and evening dress would normally have hampered Claire in attempting to match his pace, but she'd reshaped her knee and ankle joints to overcome this difficulty.

She was fully aware that it was not mercy that drove his request, but the need to find out any information about Blasto. In this, she fully agreed. Once they had Blasto, the first order of business was to destroy all the samples he had of her father's DNA. The second was to make absolutely certain the gene-Tinker didn't pull this stunt ever again.

One of the four turned to look down the street as Kayden blazed toward them, glowing brightly. He shouted and pulled a gun. One of the others grabbed 'Marquis' by the arm and tugged him up the stairs toward the bank doors. The third one also pulled a gun, while the fourth ran back down the stairs and dived into the car.

Claire considered changing into her battle form, but decided the occasion wasn't worth losing her dress over. She ignored the pop-pop-pop of shots being fired—Kayden was absolutely capable of shrugging off pistol fire by now, even if they were able to hit a moving target—and concentrated on getting there as quickly as possible. "There'll be hostages," she warned, timing her words for the exhale.

"Yes." Her father's response was almost curt in its brevity. "Keep casualties. To a minimum."

The car's engine roared to life. Kayden swooped in at the two guys shooting at her, and flew between them. At the last second, she stretched her arms out to each side and neatly clotheslined both of them at once. Claire heard the double impact from where she was. If she'd cared about their welfare, she might've winced in sympathy. Well, she's certainly making use of the improvements. It was doubtful she could've pulled off a move like that before Claire had enhanced her physiology.

"Nicely done." It appeared that Earl agreed, though Claire wasn't sure who he was congratulating.

As the car began to pull away, the last man obviously choosing to abandon his compatriots, Kayden pulled up and around. Other vehicles swerved and screeched to a halt, the drivers probably unnerved by the brilliant glow, but the getaway car began to accelerate, swerving around the others. Right up until Kayden loosed a spiralling blast that blew the front end clean off the car, destroying the engine and sending one wheel bounding down the road. The car began to skid to a halt, sparks flying as metal ground against asphalt.

Oh, shit. Claire could see what was going to happen next, and ramped up her adrenaline production for a burst of extra speed. But it was too late. The fuel line had been ruptured, allowing gasoline to escape in a spreading pool, and one of the sparks came close enough to ignite the vapour.

Whoomph.

Flame ran across the ground as the car finally stopped, enveloping it in seconds. Claire knew the fuel tank wasn't likely to explode—that happened far more often in Hollywood than in real life—but the driver was still in extreme danger. Even if the fire didn't get into the interior of the car—and it would—he'd still cook alive from the heat generated all around him.

Kayden had obviously worked that out as well. Dropping to the ground alongside the car, she reached through the wall of flames, opened the door and wrenched the driver out. He hit the ground rolling, mainly from the force with which she'd thrown him, but it still managed to put out the small flames on his clothing. As Claire and Earl ran up, she patted down the smouldering sleeves of her costume and looked at them. "What now?" she asked. "The clone's inside with the last one."

"In a moment, my dear Palatina," Earl said. "Well done, by the way. Marchioness, can you make sure of these reprobates? I need to attend to this."

"Certainly, Marquis," Claire replied with a grin. She went to each of the mooks in turn, checking their vitals and ensuring they wouldn't die before she had a chance to question them. Each of them she left in a dreamless slumber, to ensure they'd still be around to question afterward.

When she turned around from the last one, she saw that the once-burning car was now a dome of white bone. The smell of smoke was heavy in the air, but the fire was definitely out.

"What do we do now?" she asked. "They'll have had time to get set up."

"True," he agreed. "But the 'Marquis robbed a bank and slaughtered all the hostages' narrative is dead in the water now. And however they've trained that clone, he won't know nearly enough about bone control as I do." He paused, rubbing his chin. "Which means he'll have the hostages between us and him. He might even be trying to pass as a hostage. And if we make a frontal attack, the hostages will get hurt."

"I have a novel idea," Claire mused. "Why don't I try to talk to him?"

"Because he'll almost certainly see it as a trick?" replied Kayden.

"If he starts killing hostages, we're going to have to go in anyway," Claire pointed out. "And if I can get close enough, I'll change his mind for him. I need to be in that bank."

Earl shared a glance with Kayden, raising an eyebrow interrogatively. She shrugged. "Don't look at me. I've never had to deal with a bank siege situation, either."

Heading up the stairs, Claire blinked as the sliding doors opened before her. The guy must be rattled if he hasn't had anyone lock them. That was both good and bad.

"Hello?" she called out as she stepped inside. Her hands were raised over her head, and she did her best to look non-threatening. "I'm just here to talk."

The lights were off inside the bank. Nostrils flaring, she expanded her sense of smell. Her vision, already angled toward the infrared, stayed that way.

The smell of sweat hit her, tinged with the sour stink of fear. She could also smell gun oil, perfume, cologne and a few odd scents. What she couldn't smell was blood, for which she heaved a silent sigh of relief.

In front of her, huddled in groups on the floor, were about two dozen people, faces glowing with the heat of their blood. She couldn't see the clone or his handler anywhere.

"So talk." The voice sounded young, teetering on the knife-blade of terror. In the darkness, amid the multitude. Normally, she would never have been able to pick him out, but her enhanced vision spotted him peeking out from behind a pillar off to the side. It was certainly big enough to hide him and the clone at the same time.

"I know you work for Blasto," she said. "And I know that's not really Marquis with you."

"What?" He sounded badly startled. "That's not true! Who told you that?"

"I'm Marchioness," she said patiently. "Marquis is my father. The real Marquis. Who is just outside, and so long as you're talking to me, he's not coming in here. Do you understand?"

"If you don't fuck off right now, all these people are gonna die!" His voice was nearly hysterical. "Do you understand that?"

She stepped behind a pillar of her own, and kicked off her shoes. Her skin went a dull black to match her dress, and her hands and feet splayed out. She'd never given herself gecko-grip soles before, but there was always a first time. Placing her hands on the pillar, she pulled herself upward, then reshaped her hips and knees to make this kind of movement more natural.

"We don't have to go down this path," she said soothingly. "Nobody has to get hurt today. You don't have to get hurt, I don't have to get hurt, and the people in this bank don't have to get hurt." As she spoke, she scuttled up the pillar, moving faster and faster as she got more used to it. She made sure to keep her face close to the pillar so it would make it harder to tell where the sound was coming from.

Reaching the top of the pillar, she eyed the ceiling panels dubiously. She was certain she could cling to them, but could they support her weight? Better not risk it. Crawling around the pillar, she sighted in on the one the guy was hiding behind. Her leg muscles shifted, becoming all fast-twitch, and she reinforced her ligaments and tendons to support a single huge effort.

"If you don't fuck off now, a lot of people are going to get hurt, and it'll be your fault!" He sounded on the edge.

Taking a deep breath, she sprang off the side of the pillar with all the power with which she was capable. Over the gap between pillars she soared, twisting in mid-air so that she could attach securely to it when she landed. The impact was bruising, or it would've been to any normal person. She clung to her landing spot, looking around. Nobody was looking up at her, which was a good start.

He called out again. "Did you hear me? What are you doing back there? Why aren't you saying anything?"

Her ventriloquistic skills were rudimentary at best, and she knew he'd know where she was if she called out. So she stayed quiet, scrambling around the pillar. There. He stood directly below her, the clone of her father standing silently behind him. In one hand, he held a pistol. That posed a minimal danger to her, but a rather greater danger to the crowd. In the other … she wasn't certain that he was holding anything at all, but from the way his fingers were loosely closed, she wouldn't bet on it.

It's got to be the murder-pheromone. If that was released, 'Marquis' would snap and use his bone control powers to kill everyone who wasn't dosed with the 'friend' pheromones.

"Hey!" he shouted. "I'm talking to you!"

Time was running out. He was getting more and more suspicious, which meant she had to act now. Lifting her left hand away from the pillar, she formed the battle-claw, but instead of pure batrachotoxin, she infused the claws with a mix of that and ketamine. Hopefully, she decided, it would be a knockout dose rather than a kill-shot. Of course, either way, she'd be happy with 'out of the fight'.

Kicking free of the pillar, she dropped. Her legs easily took the twenty-foot drop, and she landed in a crouch. Her battle-claw was already in motion, slashing across the top of his left wrist, where he held the small object. With a cry of pain, he dropped it, but she'd already positioned her right hand under his, featuring broad pads of fingers and numerous tiny hairs with which to take advantage of the van der Waal effect. The tiny globe fell into her hand, was trapped there, and she wrapped her fingers around it.

"What—" The idiot tried to bring his gun up, but the toxin was already in his bloodstream. She kicked him under the kneecap and slashed his gun hand to make him drop the weapon. It clattered to the ground, and he followed it shortly thereafter.

Then she turned to look up at the other combatant. The far more deadly one. In her hand, cushioned safely, was a globule of death; breaking it would spell doom for everyone in the bank. Of course, she didn't know what he'd been conditioned to do if his designated 'friends' were attacked. Would he default to 'kill everyone' mode? Or would he just stand there?

An instant later, her question was answered in no uncertain terms. His hand came up, and a bone blade extended from it. The clone slashed at her with a speed and power reminiscent of her father, driving her to hurriedly duck out of the way. Diving over the supine gang member, she ignored the discarded pistol and inhaled deeply, pulling in every whiff of the pheromone with which this guy had been doused.

Why didn't I take the clone down first? she raged at herself. It would've been so easy to come down on him like a bolt from the blue. To take him out before the other guy even knew she was there. But even as she leaped to the side to avoid another swing, she knew why. Because he looks like Dad.

Bone armour, cruder than her father's but still perfectly adequate, covered the faux-Marquis from head to toe. Another blade extended from his other hand, and hellishly sharp spikes and hooks extended from every surface. Even getting close would be dangerous.

Deep within her sinuses, she finished the analysis of the pheromone, and began to replicate it. The glands she'd used to make the last batch were in place; all she had to do was repurpose them. While fighting for her life against a clone of her father.

He was fast. With each failed strike, he seemed to gain more skill, pressing her ever closer to her limits. And then he began to throw up barriers, to make it harder for her to dodge. If she could get close enough to affect his body, the fight would be over, but he was all too good at playing keep-away.

The blades merged to form a massive hammer, which hummed through the air as he swung it two-handed. When he struck other jags of bone that had already been laid down, they shattered and sprayed through the air. She wasn't worried about being hurt by them, but if one got close enough, he'd be able to expand it to trap her. He'd be able to do it, too; already, he was using far too many of her father's tricks for comfort. He's just a clone! How is he this good? Against her father, he would of course lose, but her father was in a class of his own.

Finally, it seemed that he had inhaled the pheromones that she was now exuding from her pores. The massive hammer sank to the ground. Taking a deep breath of her own, she stepped in close. He didn't attack. Reaching out, she took control of his body and mind, and put him to sleep. And only then did she relax.

"Whew," she muttered, changing her battle-claw back to a normal hand so she could bend over and put it on her knee. "Some days it's just not worth getting out of bed."

Part 16