Another Way
Part Nine: Close Encounters of the Interesting Kind
Friday, September 7, 2007
Northwest Middle School
" - and then
she said," Taylor finished triumphantly, "'I've never seen it do
that before!'"
Laughter burst out at the table; Emma, caught unawares, snorted banana-flavoured milk out of her nose. Claire found that even funnier than the joke; she kept laughing, even as she patted Emma on the back. Emma coughed and sputtered and turned red in the face, but Claire subtly helped her through the worst of it with her powers.
"Oh god, Taylor," wheezed Emma. "What are you trying to do? Kill me? What did I ever do to you? Did I offend you in a past life?"
Taylor grinned unrepentantly at her. "Nope, but it serves you right. You were drinking milk while you should have been listening to my joke. You gonna clean that up, by the way? You sure made a mess. It's all over your face. And you got milk on your new top, too. Wow, your mom is gonna be
pissed."
Claire silently handed Emma some tissues; the redhead shot her a grateful look and wiped her face before dabbing at her blouse. "You know, you could warn us before you're gonna tell one of your jokes," the redhead went on. "I mean, that was downright hazardous to the health."
"So where do you get all your jokes from anyway, Taylor?" asked Claire curiously. "I mean, you're not exactly the rough, tough type."
Taylor rolled her eyes. "I might not be, but Dad's in the Dockworkers, remember? Every time they come over for a few drinks, I sit in the corner as quiet as I can. Once they've had a few beers, the jokes start coming out. And if anyone can tell a dirty joke, it's a Dockworker. Trust me, you haven't heard one
tenth of the ones I know."
"Yeah, trust her on that one," Emma confirmed. "One time I challenged her to a dirty joke telling contest. Boy, did
I lose."
Taylor giggled. "That was hilarious. Your face was even redder than your hair. And I wasn't even telling the really dirty ones. There's ones I know that I don't even want to
think about, let alone tell. I mean, there's one that goes -"
"So anyway, guys," Claire interjected hastily, "I was just thinking. How would you like to hang out over the weekend?"
Taylor and Emma glanced at each other, then back at Claire. "Uh, well, it's just that Emma and me kind of have a thing where we sleep over at each others' places on a weekend," Taylor said. "But if your dad's fine with it, you can sleep over with us."
"Yeah," Emma agreed. "You're cool. We'd love to have you over."
"I got a better idea," Claire told them. "How about you both come sleep over at my place. Trust me, we've got the room."
Again, that almost-telepathic glance, the exchange of information. "Uh, maybe -" began Emma.
"We've got a heated indoor pool," Claire pointed out.
"Hell -" Taylor began.
"- yes," Emma finished. "An indoor pool? Count me in."
"You've just been wanting to show off your new bathing suit that you got for your birthday," Taylor accused her.
"Yeah? So?" Emma spread her hands.
"We don't have an indoor pool."
Taylor turned to Claire. "Well, it looks like it's settled. Sleepover, your place. What time should we turn up?"
<><>
"We're late," fretted Taylor. "She said between six and seven. It's almost five after seven. She'll think I'm not coming. She'll think I'm a horrible person."
"She will
not think you're a horrible person," Annette told her from the front seat. "She sounds like a very nice girl and I'm sure she'll forgive you for being just a little bit late. I'm glad you're making more friends, by the way." She turned to Danny. "Dear, would you like me to help you navigate?"
"I'll be fine," Danny said, just a shade tersely. "These streets look all the same to me. What was the address again?"
"One seven nine Hampton Way," Taylor recited promptly. "I think we just passed it."
"So we did," Annette agreed. Just back that way, dear."
"I see it, I see it." Danny pulled over to the side of the road and manoeuvred the car into a U-turn, then trundled back toward the appropriate intersection. It was indeed Hampton Way.
"So what do her parents do for a living, honey?" asked Annette as they rolled down the street.
"Oh, her mom's dead, I think. But her dad's some kinda rich. I mean, they've got a heated indoor pool. I haven't met him, but Claire says he's a businessman of some sort. Maybe a stockbroker or an investor. They moved here from Boston a few months ago. Claire's really cool. She knows all sorts of interesting stuff. Emma likes her too."
"That's nice," grunted Danny, concentrating more on the house numbers than the conversation. "One thirty-one … one thirty-five … "
"If she's used to living in relative luxury, perhaps she might not be so interested in sleeping over with you," Annette said, a touch of concern in her voice.
"Oh, she's not like that," Taylor assured her. "She's a really great person. Genuine, you know? She doesn't put herself above everyone, just because her dad's got money. Anyway, I told her about our house and she says she can't wait to see it."
"Ah-ha." Danny pointed ahead. "That'll be it, on the corner."
"Wow," Taylor blurted. "That's a huge house. I mean, that's
enormous. Her dad must be
loaded."
"It's definitely a large house," agreed Annette as Danny manoeuvred the car in to the curb. "And look, dear. He drives the same type of car as Alan does."
"That's not his car," Taylor told her. "Or at least it's not the one Claire goes to school in. Mr Barnes must be just dropping Emma off."
"Huh," Danny said as they got out of the vehicle. He peered at the rear license plate on the red sports car in the driveway. "I think you're right. That's Alan's car all right. I recognise the vanity plates. BARNES-1. Nobody else would be using those."
"Oh, it'll be nice to see Alan and Zoe again," Annette declared. She straightened her dress and started up the driveway alongside her husband and daughter.
<><>
Danny had associated with people used to wealth and privilege before. He had been to their houses and had even attended events at the Augustus Country Club. But he wasn't personally used to ostentatious displays of wealth. This house positively screamed, "I'm rich!" to all and sundry.
Taking a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell. Sonorous chimes sounded within the house. He waited. Behind him, Taylor whispered once again, "This is a
really big house." Annette shushed her.
Footsteps approached the door from the other side. It clicked, then opened silently with not even a creak from the obviously well-made hinges. Standing there was …
Danny's brain took a few seconds to register who it was. "Wait …
Jonas?"
The burly man inclined his head toward Danny. "Mr Hebert. Mrs Hebert. Miss Hebert. Won't you come in?"
"I – but – wait – what – what are
you doing here?" demanded Danny.
"I work here, sir," Jonas said simply. Stepping aside, he gestured, a come-in motion.
"Thank you – Jonas, was it?" Annette took the invitation; grasping Taylor by the hand, she stepped inside, leaving Danny to follow, feeling slack-jawed and stupid.
"Indeed, ma'am. Mr Marchant is in the living room, through there, ma'am."
"Wait," Danny began again. "This is
Earl Marchant's house."
"Yes, sir." Jonas' expression was bland, unrevealing.
"So Claire is Earl's daughter."
"Correct, sir.
"So my daughter's new friend is my business partner's daughter."
"So it would seem, sir."
Danny blinked and shook his head, trying to get his thoughts into order. "Right. Good. Glad we got that settled." He set off in his wife's wake, following her to what had been described as a 'living room', but into which Danny could quite easily see his entire house fitting with room to spare. Acres of carpet, a flat-screen TV that would have barely fit through the
door, amazingly comfortable-looking furniture …
"Danny! Glad you could make it." Earl Marchant himself advanced across the room from where he had been chatting to the Barnses, husband and wife. Taylor and Emma were reuniting with a verve that suggested a parting of days, not hours. A girl whom he presumed to be Earl's daughter Claire was also greeting Taylor with comfortable familiarity. At the same time, Anne-Rose embraced Zoe Barnes with somewhat more restraint, but with no less sincerity.
"Earl." Danny shook the other man's hand. "It's good to see you but I must admit, I'm more than a little surprised."
"Why is that?" Earl tilted his head to the side. "Oh, you didn't know? Ah." A smile crossed his face. "Well, when Claire told me Taylor's surname, I must admit, I checked the White Pages to make sure there weren't any other Heberts in Brockton Bay. So yes, I have gotten over the surprise. Coincidences do happen, after all."
"Well, yeah," began Danny, but was interrupted by Alan Barnes. The heavy-set man, his hair once as red as Emma's but now beginning to fade with age, came up to Danny and slapped him on the shoulder.
"Danny," he exclaimed by way of saying hello. "Earl here was just telling me all about the plans you two have for fixing up the Docks. It sounds like a great idea. Why didn't you tell me about it earlier?"
"I … because we've only just started talking about it," Danny hedged. "I wasn't going to say anything until we had signatures on paper."
Alan nodded wisely. "Yeah. Distinct point, right there. You've been burned a few times, as I recall."
"More than a few, but yeah," Danny said. "These days, I'm more than a little careful about who I put my trust in until the contracts are signed, sealed and delivered."
"A very wise policy," Earl agreed. "I've been disappointed a few times in my career as well. After all, who hasn't? But I make sure that whoever does this to me doesn't get a second chance to do so. It all seems to work out in the end."
Danny glanced at Alan, whose expression hadn't changed from one of polite interest.
Was I the only one who caught that? The undertone in Earl's voice had been one of … it wasn't quite
menace, but it did hold a promise that
if you make a deal with me and go back on it, you will be very terminally sorry.
For a long moment, he wondered whether it was a good idea to even let Taylor associate with this man's daughter. But then Claire approached them.
"Uh, excuse me for interrupting," she said brightly.
"Yes, honey?" asked Earl.
"I just wanted to say hello to Mr Hebert, and thanks for bringing Taylor over." She flashed Danny a brilliant smile; Danny could not help but return it.
At least the kid's polite.
"That's all right, Claire," he replied. "She was really looking forward to this."
"Yeah," she agreed. "Me too." She turned to her father. "May I show Emma and Taylor around the house, now that Taylor's here? And are we allowed to go for a swim?"
Danny blinked.
Swim? It's September.
"Certainly," Earl said. "But be careful and don't show off too much, all right?"
"Sure, thanks, Dad." And she was gone again, more or less dragging Taylor and Emma away with a burst of enthusiasm.
Earl looked back at Danny and Alan. "I want to thank you two for bringing your girls over. Claire's been talking about nothing else since she got home today. She's had no real chance to make friends since we moved here, and I worry about her getting lonely."
Such was the genuine emotion in his voice that much of Danny's concern melted away.
He may be a dangerous man, but not to his daughter or her friends. "She's very polite," was all he could think to say.
"Well, yes," Earl replied. "Children hold a special place in the world, as far as I am concerned. But they also need to be taught how to be responsible adults."
Alan nodded. "I try to make sure that Emma knows what's what." He paused. "I understand," he went on delicately, "that her mother has passed away?"
"Yes." Earl frowned briefly. "It happened when Claire was very young. The big C. I've had to raise her on my own. It hasn't been easy, but it's been amazingly rewarding. I never thought I would have children, you see. But even after the first year, I couldn't imagine
not having Claire there."
Danny found himself nodding in unison with Alan. "Taylor was kind of a happy surprise," he confessed. "Anne-Rose was in college while I worked with my father on the Docks, but we never even considered not having her. Her parents never really forgave us for getting pregnant so early; Anne-Rose had to drop out of her law studies to have her. Afterward, she got her English degree, but it wasn't the same. To them, anyway. Me, I wouldn't have had it any other way."
"Zoe and I had it slightly easier," Alan confessed. "Well,
I was the one who had it easier, given that I was the one studying for the degree, while Zoe was the one getting pregnant. Not with Emma; she came later. Our first was Anne; she's in college."
"Ah, yes," Earl said wisely. "Of course, we all know the next scary thing that's going to happen, right?"
"Boys," Danny agreed.
"And dating," Alan supplied.
"I don't even know how I'm going to handle it," Danny told them. "Seriously. If Taylor comes home one day and says she's interested in a boy, I'm strongly considering locking her in her room till she's about, oh, twenty-five." He drew a deep breath. "Thankfully, the closest thing she's had to a crush is an Alexandria poster on her bedroom wall. So far." He chose not to mention the Armsmaster underwear; she'd wanted it, he hadn't seen the point in it, but Anne-Rose had chosen to get it for her anyway. For his part, he'd done his best to forget about it.
"You think you've got problems?" Alan rolled his eyes theatrically. "I've
got one in college. I don't dare ask her anything more than 'do you need more money' just in case she
tells me about some boy she's seeing. Or some girl, for that matter."
Earl frowned slightly "A girl wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, it's not like she'd get pregnant."
"Two words," Alan advised him. "Matching. Tattoos." The three men shared a theatrical shudder.
"At least you've
been through the teen dating years with Anne," Danny pointed out. "As I understand, the expected horror show never actually materialised."
"Yeah, but with all fairness to Anne," Alan lowered his voice and glanced around to make sure that Zoe was not in earshot, "she's pretty and she's a wonderful girl, but she's not drop-dead stunning gorgeous." He looked toward where Emma had disappeared with the other two. "Emma's already showing real promise. The boys will be lining up to ask her out."
"What about you, Earl?" asked Danny. "You're pretty quiet on the subject."
"Well, one thing I have learned from spending so much time with my daughter," Earl replied, "is that she has rather good judgement. I have no doubt that she will become attracted to someone at some point. At which time, hopefully, she will apprise me of the situation and I will make the decision to either give him the 'if you make my daughter cry' speech or have Jonas show him the driveway in a ballistic arc." He paused. "Mind you, I've also made sure that Claire can punch out any overly grabby young lout if and when required."
"That actually sounds like a plan," Danny mused. "I wonder where I could get lessons for Taylor."
"Emma could take them too," Alan agreed. "She might like it better than horseback riding or piano lessons."
"Point of fact, gentlemen," Earl advised them. "No child enjoys starting on any new endeavour unless it's already easy for them, or unless their friends are also doing it. Piano lessons rarely fall into either category."
Alan Barnes rolled his eyes. "Preaching to the choir here."
Danny opened his mouth to make a comment, but was interrupted when Jonas stepped into the room. "Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served."
"Dinner?" Danny looked around. "I didn't know we were staying for dinner."
"Of course we were, dear," Anne-Rose said as she came over to take his arm. "Mr Marchant offered when we spoke on the phone. I accepted for the both of us."
"But I'm not dressed for it -" Danny glanced down at his polo shirt and jeans.
"Nonsense. You look very smart. Come along now."
Not for the first time in his life, Danny found himself doing as his wife told him.
<><>
Later That Night
"Well, that was very pleasant," Anne-Rose observed as they pulled away from the curb. "Earl Marchant is a nice man."
That's because he only showed you that side of himself, Danny thought but did not say. However, truth be told, he had seen no cracks in the facade when it came to Earl's attitude toward Anne-Rose and Zoe. He had been friendly and attentive without being flirtatious or creepy.
It appeared that Earl Marchant was a man of many layers, one who chose which person saw what part of him. Zoe and Anne-Rose saw a genial host, while Alan Barnes saw a businessman who was interested in improving matters in Brockton Bay. Danny had seen deeper into him, but he could not be sure that Earl had not shown his darker side deliberately, to see his reaction. Because if their plans were to come to completion, Danny would see that side of him sooner or later.
Better you see it now, than when it's too late to back out …
It was going to be a difficult decision, but he was reasonably sure which way he was going to jump. After all, if Brockton Bay was going to be pulled back into the light, it was going to need more than vision and resources to do it. A certain level of ruthlessness was also going to be required, a ruthlessness that Danny suspected Earl Marchant had in spades.
Plus, someone with a daughter as polite as Claire can't be all bad.
"Yeah," he agreed. "That was a really nice evening. And I still can't believe he has an indoor swimming pool."
"The girls were certainly enjoying it when we left," Anne-Rose said. "And Taylor was right. Claire is very down to earth. She's a delightful girl."
"I think she gets it from her father," Danny mused. "He strikes me as someone who hasn't always had all the advantages, but now that he's got them, he intends to enjoy them to the fullest."
"And more power to him," Anne-Rose said. "So I gathered from the small amount of shop talk that you shared at the table that he and you are going to be collaborating on improvements to the city, like the ferry and the Boat Graveyard?"
"That's the general idea, yes," Danny admitted. "Though the full extent of our plans have yet to be worked out."
"Good," Anne-Rose declared firmly. "It's about time
someone did something about that."
And Danny could only agree.
I just hope I'm not making a huge mistake.
<><>
Friday, September 28, 2007
Northwest Middle School
"
Will the contestants for the under-thirteen four hundred yard race please report to the starting line … will the contestants for the under-thirteen four hundred yard race please report to the starting line."
Danny looked up as the announcement crackled over the PA system which had been set up out on the playing field. "That'll be you, kiddo," he told his daughter. "Now, are you sure you're up for this?"
Beside him, Annette put her hand on his arm. "Well, if she's not, it's too late to back out now, dear," she pointed out.
"Yeah, like Mom says," Taylor agreed rapidly, pulling off the jacket that she'd been wearing up till that point. Under it, she wore a racing vest with her number – 43 – displayed front and back. "I'm pretty good at it."
"But some of these visiting runners are really good," Danny fretted. "I -"
"I got it, Dad, I got it." Taylor flashed him a wide smile. "I win, I win. I lose, at least I tried."
Jumping down off of the stand, she trotted through the crowd to where the runners were lining up for the four hundred yard race.
<><>
At the trackside, Claire watched Taylor and Emma take their places along with the rest of the runners. During the time she had spent with them, her power had worked on them, gradually improving their muscle tone, increasing their stamina and making them overall fitter and stronger – and just a little smarter – versions of the people she had met on her first day.
It would be interesting to see how they did in this race; Taylor's body was optimised toward speed, while Emma's focus was toward endurance. Neither one had been made over into superhuman capability as yet; any medical examination would simply find that they were a little faster, a little stronger than the norm.
She hoped they would do well. They were her friends, after all. She wanted the best for them.
<><>
"Ready … steady …."
The starter's gun cracked, sending a dozen girls hurtling forward from the blocks. Taylor was off like a hare, hitting the lead in her first few strides. Emma wasn't far behind, with the rest of the pack, but she was pacing herself.
Very smart. Let the others wear themselves down and then make your move.
The better runners were coming to the fore now, a couple starting to draw up on Taylor. She flicked a glance over her shoulder and actually
accelerated, scorching down the track at a pace that Claire suspected she could not maintain.
A few seconds later, she was proven right when another girl forged out of the pack and past the initial hopefuls; Emma was right behind her, correctly judging that now was the time to make her move. As the finish line came closer and closer, Taylor started to flag, with the other girl coming up fast now. She tried grimly to hang on, but the girl passed her just a few yards away from the line. They came in first, second and third, with about a tenth of a second between each of them, Emma just behind Taylor but closing on the both of them.
Claire had already been making her way to the finish point; she got there just in time to see Emma helping Taylor up from where she had collapsed on the ground.
"Is she all right?" Her concern was unfeigned; Taylor had pushed herself to the absolute max to finish as fast as she had. Subtly, her power began leaching lactic acid out of her friend's muscles and cracking the food in her stomach for more glucose.
"Yeah, hah, I'll, hah, be fine, hah," panted Taylor. "Good
god," she added to the girl who had won, who was panting heavily herself. "You can
run."
"Yeah, well, you're not so shabby yourself," replied the other girl. "Your friend was coming up behind me like a steam train, and I thought you'd never slow down long enough for me to pass you. That was a great race. They may as well just give you the one and two hundred yard trophies now and save everyone the time."
Emma, still supporting Taylor, held out her hand. "Emma," she greeted the girl. "Pleased to meet you. This is Taylor."
The girl reached out a slim dark-skinned hand and they shook. "Yeah, likewise," she agreed. "Sophia. Sophia Hess."
<><>
Saturday, September 29, 2007
"Wow, the parking around here's really
horrible."
"That's okay, dear," Annette advised Danny. "Just park a little way away. We can walk."
"Dad, seriously," Taylor put in. "We don't
have to go to a restaurant to celebrate getting those athletics trophies. I'll just admire them at home while we eat."
"No, we arranged to meet the Barneses there, remember?" Annette said. "I just wish Claire and Earl could have joined us too."
"So do I," agreed Taylor. "But Claire said she had a thing on, so maybe another night. She was pretty cut up about it, though. I think she would really have liked to be here."
"Finally!" Danny spotted a parking spot and wheeled the vehicle around to slide into it. A horn blared as another car, also aiming for the same spot, had to sheer off. As the other driver moved off in search of an empty space, Danny triumphantly pulled into the parking spot. "Hah. Got it."
"Okay, now which way was the restaurant again?" asked Taylor. "Because I have no idea."
"It's this way," Danny declared, pointing down the street. "Down there, turn left and then right again and we're there."
They started off, when they got to the corner, Danny began to turn left, but Annette stopped him. "I think we should be turning right here, dear," she said doubtfully.
"You sure?" he asked. "I thought it was left and then right."
"We did come the other way, you know," Taylor added helpfully. "If it's right one way, it's left the other."
"Yeah, but I took that into account," he muttered.
"Dear …" began Annette.
"Just a minute, trying to figure out which way we came."
"No. Danny, look." The note of concern in Annette's voice was enough to make him look around. Half a dozen people wearing gang colours had emerged from an alleyway and were moving to surround them. Each of them held a weapon of some sort, be it a switchblade or a length of pipe or chain.
"Dad?" That was Taylor, trying to keep the fear out of her voice.
Doing his best to do the same, despite the fact that his heart felt as though it had been plunged into a bucket of ice water, he spoke calmly to her. "It's okay. I'll handle this." Stepping forward, he did his best to keep his hands from shaking too obviously. "Evening. Can I help you?"
The nominal leader of this little group of what Danny could see was the Empire Eighty-Eight nodded sharply. "Yeah, you can, four-eyes. You can give us your wallet an' watch an' the little woman's purse an' jewellery. Anythin' else valuable you got on you, too. Car keys. An' then maybe you c'n go on your way."
The young man's arrogant tone pricked at Danny's pride in the worst way. Normally an even-tempered man, he usually did his best to keep his temper, inherited from his father, under control. The shaking in his hands changed from fear to anger; he dared not clench them into fists, for fear that the gang members would see it as a challenge.
I can't risk Anne-Rose and Taylor. Not for this.
Growing up in Brockton Bay, the rule was very simple; if you were mugged, you handed over your goods. Fighting back only got you hurt. That was what the heroes were for.
Where are they, now that I need them?
Taking a deep breath, he tried to quell the anger rising within him, the terror for his wife and child.
I've got to do what they say. I can't risk Taylor or Anne-Rose. I just can't.
"I -" he began, but that was as far as he got.
"Excuse me, sir."
The voice came from a little way down the street. Danny looked around, staring at the three men who hadn't been there a few moments ago. All three were dressed in black; long coats over shirt and trousers, with some sort of white emblem on the right shoulder. They stepped closer, moving in unison; despite the fact that they were unarmed, Danny got a sense of danger from them.
"Yes, sir, I'm speaking to you," one of the men spoke up; this time, Danny realised the he was the one being addressed. "Are you in difficulty? Would you like our assistance?"
"A – assistance?" he asked, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Yes, sir," the man said patiently. "Would you like us to deal with the situation you're in? It'll cost you a hundred dollars."
The leader of the gang members stared at the three newcomers. "What the fuck?" he demanded. "Seriously, what the fuck?
We're shaking these people down. You can fuck all the way off."
The men kept moving closer, at a steady pace that Danny wasn't sure was not intended to be intimidating. "For a start," the man stated clearly, "this is Marquis' territory. You're off your patch. Second,
you're looking to rob them.
We're offering them our protection. This protection, by the way, sir," he added in an aside to Danny, "lasts for twenty-four hours. Forty dollars start-up, ten dollars per day or part thereof, half price for women and children. One hundred dollars all told." One of his cohorts leaned in and murmured something. "Oh, I do apologise. I forgot; families get a twenty percent discount. Eighty dollars. Do you have that?"
Danny blinked, his brain finally catching up with the situation. He'd heard that Marquis was back in town; if he had to choose between the mercy of the Empire Eighty-Eight and paying eighty dollars to protect his entire family, he knew which he'd go for.
"Uh – yeah, I got eighty bucks," he replied. Fumbling out his wallet, he extracted four twenties. "Got it right here. I accept your deal. Eighty bucks, right?"
"Correct, sir," the leader of Marquis' men agreed. "Now, if you'll just all step back …"
"Hell with this!" snapped the Empire gang member. "Get those Marquis motherfuckers!" He gestured toward his colleagues and four of them started toward the men in black. Then he turned back to Danny. "And as for
you, four-eyes, you're gonna pay all right and not just in money. Maybe we'll take your wife and have some fun with her. Teach you both a lesson about crossing the Empire." With the last gang member, he began moving toward Danny, switchblade out and weaving, the chromed steel catching flickers from the street lights.
Danny spread his arms and started moving back, pushing Taylor and Annette with him. "Keep away from them," he told the man as firmly as he could. "Don't hurt them."
<><>
"Mmmmm."
Earl paused in his slow, careful massaging of the woman's lower back. "You like that?"
"Oh yeah," she murmured. Rolling over, she pulled him to her. "But I like what we were doing earlier a lot more."
"Hey, I'm no longer a young man," he told her playfully, all the while responding to her caresses. "I've got to take time to get my strength back."
"I'd be happy to do this all day long," she told him, grazing his shoulder with her teeth.
"Well, we can only do it when your husband's occupied otherwise," he replied, doing something that made her gasp. "You want to sleep around, sure, but I'm not going to have a hand in destroying your marriage."
She pouted. "I'm pretty sure that he's got something going on with his new secretary. Have you seen her? Her bra size is bigger than her IQ."
"No, I haven't met his secretary. And if he does come into the partnership, what we're doing is going to have to stop," he told her firmly.
She stopped what she was doing and sat up. "What, really?" she asked disbelievingly.
"Really," he assured her. "If a married woman wants to sleep with me, I'll happily accommodate. After all, you approached me and you
are very attractive. But if I end up having legal obligations toward your husband, I'm not going to complicate that."
"Fine," she sighed. "So long as we're -"
His phone rang and he held up one finger. "One second. I have to take this."
"I thought you turned your phone off," she muttered.
"Not this one. Now shush." He hit the answer button. "Yes?"
"
Sir, we have a situation. Six Empire men, and they have the Hebert family cornered. I have two with me. It could get problematic."
All lethargy fell away from him. "Location?"
"
Jackson and Fogerty."
"I'm on my way. Do what you can." He was already standing beside the bed as he ended the call.
She stared at him as he began to pull his clothes on. "What? What's going on?"
Leaning down, he gave her a perfunctory kiss. "My dear Zoe, I have to go. We can finish this conversation at another time."
And then he was gone, leaving Zoe Barnes sitting in the middle of her rumpled bed, wondering what the hell had just happened.
<><>
Claire leaned back on the recliner and grinned as she popped another gummy bear into her mouth. Road Runner cartoons were so predictable and yet she loved them. The physics were almost as ridiculous as those exhibited by the average cape, but a lot funnier.
Turning her head, she gave the duty nurse a nod; the nurse gave her one back, along with a discreet thumbs-up. Claire presumed that meant she was holding steady on people going out versus people coming in. The doctors hadn't screamed too loudly at the numbers on the price schedule, especially when people were paying specifically to come into the hospital while she was there.
Her phone rang; she opened it. "Marchioness speaking."
"
We have a situation. The car will be picking you up outside in thirty seconds."
Eyes widening, she sat up. "What? What's going on?"
"
The Hebert family is being mugged."
Taylor. Shit. "Right. Thirty seconds." Standing up, she gestured to the duty nurse. The woman was looking at her with intense curiosity. "I have to go. Make sure nobody steals my stuff, okay?"
Not even waiting for an answer, she hurried to the doors. Barely had she made it out before the car screeched in through the drive-through; yanking open the passenger-side door, she tumbled in. Jonas barely gave her time to get her feet inside and the door closed before he powered off again; it took her three turns before she managed to get the seat-belt on.
"Situation?" she asked out loud.
"
Six gang members, three of our own," her father's voice emerged crisply from the car's speakers.
"Jonas knows where to go. High possibility of one or more of the Heberts being injured."
"Which gang?" she asked, hanging on as Jonas drifted the car around another corner. She had upgraded his reflexes and eyesight for just such an occasion, but she wasn't sure that he wasn't pushing himself beyond his limits.
"
Empire Eighty-Eight."
She drew an aggravated breath. "
Dammit, Dad. I
told you we should have done something about those racist thugs before now."
"
I know, I know. We'll talk about that later."
"If Taylor's hurt, we're gonna have a lot to talk about."
When he replied, there was mild censure in his voice.
"You're not the only one with a friend in this situation, my dear Claire."
"Yeah, sorry, Dad."
"
Never mind. New update. Gang members are down." His phone signal dropped out for a second.
"- is badly wounded."
Claire gripped the handholds. "What? Who's hurt?"
<><>
Taylor could not believe that this was happening to her. An actual real mugging, with actual real gangs fighting it out. Part of her was terrified; another part babbled,
I can't wait to tell Emma and Claire when I see them! Dad's so cool and brave!
Her attention was on the confrontation between her father and the gang member, but then it was caught by the four Empire members closing with the three Marquis men. One moment, there were seven people standing, facing one another. The next, the three had blurred into action, telescoping batons extending from their right hands.
It was as though the fight had been choreographed and the Empire thugs were playing through in slow motion, while Marquis' men were not slowed down at all. The men in black moved around their opponents in what seemed almost to be a dance, but with each swing of a baton, a limb flailed uselessly or a weapon fell to the ground. The dance only lasted for a few seconds; as a finale, four solid meaty thuds were followed by four Empire members collapsing to the ground, down and out. Their three opponents still stood, apparently unharmed. They barely even seemed to be breathing hard.
"Hostages!" snapped the Empire gang member. "Get the woman and the girl!" He and his last remaining cohort moved forward with intent.
"No! No way!" yelled Taylor's father and surged forward. He must have caught them by surprise; his wildly swinging fist clipped one of the gang members on the jaw, sending him spinning to the ground with a look of utter astonishment on his face.
The other one, however, slashed at Danny; her father raised his arm more or less by instinct and caught the blade there instead of on his face. The sharp metal sliced his sleeve and blood flowed. Danny wasn't done, however; he swung with his left hand, slugging into the guy's shoulder. "Leave them alone!" he grunted.
The Empire gang member brought the knife around; Taylor saw her father double over, then fall to his knees. "Dad!" she screamed; she went to dart forward, but her mother held her back.
And then the three Marquis men were right there. One of them took hold of the Empire Eighty-Eight man who had attacked her father; she heard a horrible
crunch, then the man was dropped to the ground like a rag doll. The one that her father had punched merely had his arms broken, or perhaps dislocated; Taylor didn't know and didn't care.
The third man rolled her father over carefully. Taylor gasped and her mother let out a cry of distress; there was so much blood, covering the front of his shirt and his right sleeve. For a moment, Taylor thought that he was dead, then his eyes flickered open.
"Taylor," he rasped. "Anne-Rose."
They stumbled forward, Taylor at her mother's side. Annette fell to her knees beside her husband, uncaring of the pool of blood on the ground. "Danny," she gasped. "Danny, don't die."
"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to keep talking to him," the man told her. "Just do what you're doing right there." He looked up at Taylor. "Miss, have you ever done first aid?"
Taylor shook her head so hard that she thought her glasses might fall off. "N-no. No, I haven't."
"Well, that's okay," he told her. "If you can get down here and press your hands here, you can keep your father alive."
Hesitantly, she knelt down and pressed where he told her. Under her hands she felt a warm pulsing; when she realised what it was, she almost pulled her hands away. "That – that's blood," she blurted.
"That's correct," he said, in a matter-of-fact tone that did more to calm her down than anything else would have. "It's supposed to be inside him. You're stopping it from getting out. Can you do that for me?"
"I – yes," she agreed. At her side, she could hear her mother murmuring to her father, keeping his attention, keeping him awake. "But we need an ambulance. A doctor. I've seen enough TV shows. This won't save his life."
"It only has to keep him alive long enough, miss," the man told her. "Help is on the way."
"It most certainly is."
<><>
Taylor looked around, careful not to lift her hands from where she was pressing on her father's injury. Descending into the narrow street were three people; almost immediately she recognised members of Brockton Bay's homegrown superhero team. It was Brandish, being carried by Mega Girl, who had spoken.
The rush of relief that she felt –
the heroes are here. It's going to be all right now - was almost immediately overtaken by reality.
What can they do here?
"Brandish. Lady Photon. Mega Girl." It was the spokesman of the three Marquis men, careful to make no aggressive moves, who spoke. "I'm afraid you're a little late."
"No, it looks like we got here just in time." That was Brandish. "Who are you supposed to be?"
Lady Photon nodded to Mega Girl and gestured toward where Taylor and her mother were kneeling over Danny. Taking the hint, the teenage superhero hurried over. "Can I help?"
"I don't
know," whimpered Taylor. "I've never done this before. Am I doing it right? Can you fly him to the hospital?"
"I don't know," confessed Mega Girl. "It depends on how bad the bleeding is. If he dies on the way, it doesn't matter where I take him. He's your father?"
Taylor nodded, tears leaking from her eyes. "I don't want him to die. He can't. He just
can't."
"It's okay, calm down, calm down," Mega Girl soothed her. "Have you called nine one one?"
"No, but they said they have," Taylor admitted, pointing with her chin.
"Who are they, anyway?" asked Mega Girl. "I've never seen that gang emblem before. It's not the Merchants."
"No, they said they're from Marquis," Taylor said, glad to have something to talk about. "You should have seen them, they just took those guys apart."
"Villains fighting villains? That's kind of weird."
"No, they said they were -"
<><>
"- offering protection for money," the man in the black long-coat told Brandish. "It's a perfectly legitimate business transaction. The police and the army do it all the time. So do bodyguard services."
"And you're doing a bang-up job about it," she retorted. "One of your 'protectees' is badly wounded and what are you doing about it? Standing around waiting for him to die so you can refund your money and then sidle off into the night?"
"No, ma'am, that's not what we're doing," he replied, his tone even and polite in the face of her anger. "We're waiting for appropriate medical attention to get here."
"We might need some for these gang members too," observed Lady Photon, checking another one for life signs. "Some of them are pretty badly hurt and at least two are dead."
"So we're looking at manslaughter, maybe murder, if intent can be proven," Brandish stated flatly.
"Not at all," he replied blandly. "Those men were threatening these three with lethal force. We defended them with lethal force. The fact that the man got hurt merely underlines the threat that they were under."
"But you work for a
supervillain!" Brandish's energy blade snapped into being in her hand. "I'm placing you under citizen's arrest."
The roar of a car engine interrupted whatever he was going to say in return; first one car and then another roared up the street. They screeched to a halt just yards away from the ongoing tableau. A person got out of each car; the vehicles drove off once more.
<><>
"I really would rather you didn't, Brandish dear," Marquis said blandly, striding over to where Brandish was facing off against his minions.
"Marquis." Her voice was liquid helium; the energy blade curved in his direction.
"Brandish." In contrast, his voice was light, friendly. "It's so good to see you again. You really have done well for yourself; I would hardly believe that it's been one year, let alone seven."
She gritted her teeth; Lady Photon stepped up alongside her and put a hand on her arm.
"What do you want, Marquis?" asked Lady Photon.
"For myself? Nothing." Marquis took a deep breath of the night air. "But my men here used only appropriate force to subdue armed opponents. To arrest them would merely make you look incompetent."
"And who is that?" asked Lady Photon, gesturing at the girl in the evening gown, who had approached the wounded man and his family.
<><>
"Marchioness!" Unlike her mother and aunt, Vicky was actually glad to see the new arrivals. "He's hurt bad, I think. Can you help him?"
"I believe so." The newcomer gave Vicky a smile. "It's good to see you too, Mega Girl. I see you've been passed on your Wards training. No more incidents like that other time?"
"No, thank God." Vicky gave her brow an exaggerated wipe. "That was a real wake-up call for me. Thanks for bailing me out on that one, by the way."
"No such thing," Marchioness told her firmly. "I was just there and you brought her in."
"Help."
They both looked down. The skinny girl holding pressure on the wound was looking around wildly. "Help, I can't feel the bleeding any more. Does that mean -"
"It's okay, you can take your hands away now," Marchioness told her kindly. "The bleeding's stopped because the wound has closed. He's going to be fine."
The woman's head snapped up. "What? You healed him? But you didn't even touch him."
Vicky's grin stretched the corners of her mouth. "Nope. She's cool like that."
The woman bent over her husband again. "Danny? Danny, can you hear me?"
"Ow." His tone was heartfelt as he opened his eyes.
"Are you still in pain? Where does it hurt?" She looked up at Marchioness. "Help him, please!"
"No, it's fine," he grunted, sitting up. "Landed on my keys. I'm gonna have a really funny-shaped bruise there tomorrow. Ow."
"Dad!" The girl's relief was obvious. "You're okay!"
"Well, I am now, yeah. What happened?"
"Ladies and gentleman, allow me to introduce Marchioness." Vicky gestured at the girl in the evening gown. "She's the one you can thank for this."
"Oh. Wow." The skinny girl got up and, along with her mother, helped her father to his feet. Together, they looked like the unlikely survivors of a massacre, all three of them liberally bedaubed with blood, but Vicky took it as given that they were fine. "Hi, I'm Taylor. I'm really pleased to meet you. And thanks for saving my dad's life." She offered her hand, then hesitated when she realised that it was covered in drying blood.
"That's okay," Marchioness replied. Firmly, she took Taylor's hand and shook it anyway. "I understand that you're part of my father's protection plan so really, I had an obligation to come and do what I could."
"Well, I don't care why you did it," Taylor's mother told Marchioness. "I'm just glad that you did."
"That's okay," Marchioness said again. "Look, he's going to be a little weak, so when you get him home, make sure he has a large meal and plenty of fluids. His body needs to replenish all that. All right?"
"Yes, yes, of course," the woman replied, nodding. "Thank you again."
"And from me too," the man – Danny, Vicky seemed to recall – added. "It sort of got fuzzy after I got stabbed, but I'm feeling all right now. I'm really glad you were here. Who did you say you were?"
"I'm Marchioness," was the reply. "Marquis' daughter."
Danny paused as this sank in. "You're a supervillain's daughter, but you're a hero."
Marchioness paused. "Not … as such," she said at last. "I heal people, but usually I get paid to do it."
<><>
"Brandish, kindly calm down a moment," Marquis urged. His expression was polite, but Sarah got the distinct impression that he was enjoying himself hugely. "You're not arresting myself or my men tonight. We both know that. If you take away who's actually paying these men, they've performed a public service here. These people were saved from a mugging. If anyone deserves arresting, it's the gang members."
"Two of whom are dead and the rest injured to one degree or another," argued Brandish. "They're in no state to defend themselves, physically
or verbally."
"They were injured and killed by my men, who were defending others from their attack," Marquis reminded her. "I am, as I told you once before, ridiculously rich. I can and will pay for the very best lawyers to defend them.
You would end up as a laughing-stock."
Sarah took Carol's arm once more. "Leave it," she murmured. "He's got you, and he knows it. Now he's just playing with you."
"Yeah, but he'll just get to walk away," gritted Carol in an undertone.
"Again."
"But he's done nothing wrong, here," Sarah reminded her. "And in fact, his men did come to the rescue of these people. And his daughter apparently saved that man's life."
Carol turned and looked at where the girl in the evening dress was speaking to the rescued family. "His daughter?"
"That's what he said."
"Well,
that's not right."
"What?" But Sarah was speaking to empty air; Carol was already making her way over to where the four people stood.
<><>
"- but I usually get paid to do it."
For Claire, it felt just a little weird to be speaking to Taylor via her Marchioness identity. She and the other two had become fast friends in the time they had known each other. It felt as though Taylor would see through her deception at any second, but of course she would not. In this persona, she was a few inches taller and a little more slender; her face was different, her hair was different and even her voice was different.
In fact, the oddest part was the look of hero-worship on Taylor's face. She was used to Taylor grinning, crossing her eyes, wrinkling her nose or sticking her tongue out at her. Acting as though she were just a normal person, in fact. Being treated as something special by her made Claire feel just a little uncomfortable in the role for the first time.
She
felt Brandish approaching from the back, but did not react.
I don't like her, but don't do anything to her. However, when the hand grabbed her shoulder to pull her around, the skin to skin contact overwhelmed the tight restraint she was keeping on her power.
"Ow, Christ!" blurted the superhero, jerking her hand back as though it had been burned. And in fact, large red welts were rising on the skin of her palm and fingers. "What the fuck did you do?"
Claire looked her up and down coolly. "Nothing. You performed an act of assault on me. Please don't do it again."
Lady Photon caught up with Brandish and captured her hand. "How the heck did you do that? Acid?"
"No." Claire told her bluntly. "She touched me without my permission. I'm a healer, but healing isn't all that I do."
"Leave her alone!" Taylor told the heroes. "She wasn't doing anything wrong. She saved my dad's life."
"She really did," Mega Girl said. "She's not a villain like her dad." But her body sang with tension; if this turned ugly, not even Claire knew which way she would jump.
"Everyone, calm down," Annette urged, and Claire mentally blessed her. She sent a wave of her power out; the words affected them, making them actually want to calm down. "I'm sure that it was just a mistake. Marchioness, can you heal her?"
"I can," Claire replied. "But I don't know if I should. The swelling will go down overnight, but she'll be reminded to not grab me ever again." She looked at Brandish. "Why
did you grab me, anyway?"
Brandish was clutching her stricken hand with the other, but her eyes on Claire were intent. "Because you're not who you say you are."
Claire blinked.
Oh boy. "I'm Marchioness. Who should I be?"
Brandish pointed her uninjured hand at Marquis. "Not
his daughter, for a start."
Marquis raised a cultured eyebrow. "Preposterous."
"Uh, yes, I really am," Claire assured the older woman.
"Uh, where are you going with this?" asked Lady Photon.
"You remember when we last faced Marquis?" snapped Brandish. "He brought his daughter out. Her face was different, her hair was different. This is not that girl."
"Yes. I am." Claire's voice was definite. "I remember that night. I was holding my favourite pillow.
You were the shouty one."
Lady Photon did her best not to snicker. "Well, she's got you there," she murmured.
"But your hair, your face. You're
different!"
Claire raised her eyebrow in imitation of her father. "And what's to say that I'm not allowed to change my look? Say, because a bunch of superheroes are likely to burst in and try to kidnap me?" She turned to Taylor. "Does that sound like a good reason to you?"
"Uh, yeah," Taylor replied. "Wait, did that actually -"
"Yes. Long story, sorry. Otherwise, I'd love to tell you all about it." Claire looked over at Brandish. "So yes, I
am Marquis' daughter, but even if I wasn't, it seriously wouldn't be any of your business."
Mega Girl cleared her throat. "Um, I've been meaning to ask. What was that about the table … ?"
Marquis hid a smile; Claire snickered outright. "Oh god, yes. We have a videotape that we pull out and watch every Christmas." She saw Brandish's eyes widen, the anger building in her once more.
But it was Lady Photon who spoke. "You … have a
tape?"
"Why, yes, dear lady," Marquis replied genially. "Along with the burglar alarms, I had a whole series of security cameras installed, hooked up to a bank of video recorders. It took a little while to cut and splice the action, but I assure you, it was well worth the effort."
The look of dawning horror on both adult members of the Brigade made it quite clear that both of them recalled far too much of that event to be comfortable with knowing that there was a physical record of it.
Once again, Lady Photon spoke up. "Uh … with that tape in your possession … it's potentially quite damaging …"
"Oh, it would be horrendously damaging to the Brigade in the wrong hands," Marquis agreed cheerfully. "But in case you're wondering why I never tried to use it against you? The answer is quite simple. In order to do that, I would have to first consider you a threat."
His delivery of the line was perfect, the sting in the tail biting deep. Both Brandish and Lady Photon winced; Marquis' expression never shifted, but he managed to look quite pleased with himself all the same.
Lady Photon rallied first. "About these gang members," she managed. "Some are still alive. Marchioness, it's your duty as a healer …"
"Let me stop you right there," Claire cut her off. "I'm not a medical professional. I have exactly zero obligation toward men who got hurt trying to harm or kill innocents. More to the point, I don't
like them. However, to save your sensibilities, the ones who are still alive are going to stay that way. But I won't actually heal their injuries for them. Let 'em do that the old-fashioned way."
"And thank you for the reminder, Marchioness dear," Marquis cut in. He stepped over to the Heberts. "Sir, I believe that you contracted with my men for protection just before you were attacked?"
Danny nodded. "Uh, yes. Sir. Thank you for your assistance."
Marquis made a throwaway gesture. "Think nothing of it. Really. The point here is that you were attacked and injured while under my protection." Reaching up to his lapel, he removed the tiny gold "M" pin that normally resided there. "Wear this while you're in my territory. Any of my men who see it will be required to offer you all assistance and protection." He gestured to Annette and Taylor. "Your wife and child are included, of course."
Danny's hand closed over the pin. "I … thank you." He paused, looking at the superheroes. "This doesn't break some kind of law, does it?"
Brandish sighed, aggravated. "No. It doesn't."
"Well then." Marquis took Danny's unresisting hand and shook it. "Take care, Mr Hebert."
He was just turning away when Danny spoke up. "Wait. I never told you my last name."
"No. You didn't." Marquis met Danny's gaze. "I know people who know people. And those people say that you're trying to fix this city. I approve."
Turning, he offered his arm to Claire. "Marchioness."
She took it. "Marquis."
"Shall we go?"
A smile. "It's a lovely night for a walk."
Together, flanked by the men, they walked off. Inside, Claire was mentally bracing herself.
Oh boy, when Taylor gets back to me about this, she's gonna talk my ear off.
And you know something? That's okay.
End of Part Nine
Part Ten
