Another Way (Worm AU fanfic)

[Asheram]

...Danny just triggered, didn't he?

Click to shrink...

Ooh. Now There's a thought.

 

[Muroshi9]

...Danny just triggered, didn't he?

Click to shrink...

Wasn't it said somewhere that QA passed to Taylor from Danny because he never triggered?

 

[Xilph]

...Danny just triggered, didn't he?

Click to shrink...

Maybe but I'd guess not? It would've had to be before any of the capes arrived, or the area knockout on trigger should've got them, and I feel it's the kind of thing that Claire would've internally commented on to discover somebody has superpowers, even if she never actually mentions it.

 

[Ack]

...Danny just triggered, didn't he?

Click to shrink...

Nope.

 

[Ack]

Wasn't it said somewhere that QA passed to Taylor from Danny because he never triggered?

Click to shrink...

In my headcanon, Danny doesn't get QA until after Annette's death.

 

[RoninSword]

I think it makes more sens for Danny to have the QA before her death, and then it migrates after she dies because regardless of everything, if the death of his wife doesn't make him trigger, nothing likely will.

 

[Ack]

I think it makes more sens for Danny to have the QA before her death, and then it migrates after she dies because regardless of everything, if the death of his wife doesn't make him trigger, nothing likely will.

Click to shrink...

Well, in that case, he would have come close. Because he wasn't even functioning enough to be able to care for Taylor. That's pretty far down.

For my money? He was assigned the QA specifically so that it could go to Taylor. So he was given it after the worst moment of his life so that he wouldn't trigger, but that she would after the cumulation of fourteen months of tormenting.

 

[alethiophile]

That was great.

In which Marquis is best villain.

 

[Muroshi9]

Well, in that case, he would have come close. Because he wasn't even functioning enough to be able to care for Taylor. That's pretty far down.

For my money? He was assigned the QA specifically so that it could go to Taylor. So he was given it after the worst moment of his life so that he wouldn't trigger, but that she would after the cumulation of fourteen months of tormenting.

Click to shrink...

I believe it was mentioned that certain types of powers need certain types of triggers. QA needs a trigger where someone is in need of control. In Taylor's case she double triggers because the control she gains over bugs wasn't enough to resolve the situation thus gaining her the multitasking addition.
In my head cannon Anette's death would be an absolute low point in his life and as it didn't result in him needing some form of control QA migrated to his daughter in hope of a host in need of control.

 

[abyssmal_kismet]

I believe it was mentioned that certain types of powers need certain types of triggers

Click to shrink...

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I know the WoG you are remembering, but if so, you have it backwards. Certain types of powers are caused by certain types of triggers. Shards each have a collection of powers that are restricted and filtered according to the trigger and the parahuman's mental state at the moment of their trigger. Scion gave QA to Taylor simply because he found it a more interesting test than Danny.

 

[Ack]

I believe it was mentioned that certain types of powers need certain types of triggers. QA needs a trigger where someone is in need of control. In Taylor's case she double triggers because the control she gains over bugs wasn't enough to resolve the situation thus gaining her the multitasking addition.
In my head cannon Anette's death would be an absolute low point in his life and as it didn't result in him needing some form of control QA migrated to his daughter in hope of a host in need of control.

Click to shrink...

Believe me, when you lose someone really close to you, your life feels well out of control.

 

[Impartial Panic]

...Danny just triggered, didn't he?

Click to shrink...

Doesn't look like it.
Now if Taylor or Annette had gotten stabbed instead then he'd stand a decent chance of triggering.

 

[Xilph]

And now somehow a thought has wormed it's way into my head, Taylor triggering with the power of Australia. You've heard the legends right? Well she's the truth to the story, including such things as the ability to conjure unusually heavy koalas in mid air and grow spiders to the size of dinner plates at a whim.

 

[Edward Becerra]

And now somehow a thought has wormed it's way into my head, Taylor triggering with the power of Australia. You've heard the legends right? Well she's the truth to the story, including such things as the ability to conjure unusually heavy koalas in mid air and grow spiders to the size of dinner plates at a whim.

Click to shrink...

She also waves large knives in the air in front of the eyes of muggers, cooks shrimp on the barbie, and flirts with American reporters...

(*expects the Aussie assassins any second now...*)

 

[theonebutcher]

Alternate Universe where Marchioness' power is a shiny glowy beam when she uses it at range. Brandish heroically jumps between Marchioness and Danny... and gets turned into a healthy adult male.

 

[Ack]

Alternate Universe where Marchioness' power is a shiny glowy beam when she uses it at range. Brandish heroically jumps between Marchioness and Danny... and gets turned into a healthy adult male.

Click to shrink...

In her Brandish costume.

Marchioness is laughing too hard to change her back.

 

[theonebutcher]

Thus Danny dies and Taylor triggers. Go on, write it!

 

[Ack]

Thus Danny dies and Taylor triggers. Go on, write it!

Click to shrink...

No.

 

[Ack]

Another Way

Part Ten: Escalation



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



Marquis

Claire leaned back against the car seat as Jonas pulled the vehicle away from the curb. "That was … kind of weird."

"In what way, Claire-bear?" asked Earl. He removed the long brown wig from his head and ran his hands through his shorter auburn hair to lift it off his scalp. As he did so, the bone structure of his face gradually reshaped itself. She gave him a suspicious look as he leaned forward, pulling his bottom eyelid down slightly. He began to wonder if she had gotten wise to his trick of using her pet name to put her off guard.

"You know what way, Dad."

"Certainly," he agreed as he licked the tip of his pinky finger. Carefully, he dabbed at his left eye, coming away with a contact lens which he carefully deposited in its container. He didn't like to use the things, but the Earl Marchant identity was one that he wanted to protect. "But I think you need to talk it out. Tonight was the first time you've encountered someone in your powered identity who also knows you in your unpowered identity."

"You know, I could help you with that," she said as she watched with interest.

"It's a little late," he pointed out as he repeated the process with his right eye. "The crisis is over."

She chuckled, as if he'd made a joke. "No, I meant I could've made the lenses just jump out on to your hand if you wanted. Here, check this out." She waited until he was watching, then flexed her hand. Fur grew, to be replaced by scales and then feathers, emerging from her hand and melting back into it just as quickly. "Or how about this?" Her next alteration left her with midnight-black skin from the wrist down, on an emaciated-looking hand. Her nails retracted, then re-emerged as inch-long razor-edged claws of the same ebon hue, with an oddly glittering sheen to them.

"That's … impressive," he said, eyeing the dangerous-looking talons with respect. "And yes, I'll remember that for next time. But where did you get the idea of that from?" He could guess where the fur and feathers had originated from, but he had never heard of any creature with that combination of skin and terrifying talons.

"Remember the Aliens marathon we watched last week?" She grinned, clicking the tips of the talons together, then scraping them against one another. It was an exceedingly unsettling sound.

"Right. Well, now I'm definitely impressed. So, what's it for, exactly?" He wondered if she had any idea how scary it looked.

"I'm working on a theoretical form designed for high-intensity combat," Claire explained seriously. She flexed her index finger, then held up the claw to the light. "I've figured out how to weave carbon nanotubes into my skin to reinforce it, and I've done the same for my bones. I've also figured out how to make nerves that are much more efficient than this clunky old setup that evolution left behind for us, and I've put nanotubes into the connective tissue so it's nowhere near as fragile." She paused, looking at him. "Um, you know what nanotubes are, right?"

"Assume I haven't been following all the literature," he suggested. He didn't know a damn thing about them, but he wasn't about to admit that to Claire.

"Okay," she said. "I read out about nanotubes in Popular Science, and I've been experimenting to see if I can make them. Apparently I can." She made that unsettling noise with the nails again. "They're amazingly strong for their weight. I've blended diamond and nanotubes to make the nails, and with the edge only one molecule thick, it's scary sharp. Plus, behind each nail, I've got a reservoir filled with liquid – get this – batrachatoxin." She grinned again, her eyes dancing with mischief. "Say that ten times fast."

"I think I shall pass, my dear," he said austerely. "What does that mean, anyway?"

"It's a South American poison arrow frog venom. The nanotubes actually deliver it to the edges of the claw." She flexed the finger slightly; as he watched, a thick liquid started to bead in the light around the edges of the claw. "There's enough there to kill about fifty people, more or less. And with enough muscle behind it, I figure that I could put it through the skin of a mid-level Brute."

"And now you can put that away right now, young lady," he stated firmly, carefully watching the glistening liquid. Sitting in a moving car next to the equivalent of several dozen bullets aimed at his heart didn't appeal to him. Not that he disapproved of her initiative. Being defensive with her powers was one thing. It appeared that she could be extremely offensive as well, if she needed to. Good. She's growing into her powers. However, as tempting as it was to go into an in-depth discussion of exactly how to optimise her ability to modify her own body, there was still the previous topic to discuss. "We still need to talk about what just happened."

"Sorry, Dad," she said, flushing slightly. A moment later, she had reversed the metamorphosis; as he watched, the inky black faded away into normal pink healthy skin. The talons went next, retracting into Claire's fingertips. Underneath were her normal nails, with a peach-coloured sheen over the top.

If I didn't know better, I'd swear that was freshly applied nail polish. She's good. "That's all right. You're working out new tricks with your power. That's a good thing. But as I was just saying, this was the first time you've met someone as Marchioness who knows you as Claire. Am I correct?"

"Yeah." She leaned back and sighed, allowing her body to ease back into what she considered to be her base form. Her midnight-black hair retracted into her scalp, to be replaced by curly auburn locks growing at a vastly accelerated rate. When the process was done, she was a little shorter, a little stockier and a little plainer. She looked over at her father. "That ever happen to you, back in the day?"

"Very rarely," he admitted. "I didn't have so many … civilian contacts who were also likely to come into contact with Marquis. But this isn't about me. It's about you. How do you feel about what just happened?" He knew it had to be a little jarring, which was why he was bringing it up. Claire needed to acclimatise herself to the idea.

"Like I said, it's weird," she said frankly. "I've known Taylor since school started. Her dad's a good guy and her mom's really sweet. I'm used to them treating me in a certain way. Taylor sees me as a person, as a friend, not as a hero. But tonight … well, she was looking at me as though she wanted to be me. Or, you know, study at my feet or something. Like I was something bigger and better than I really am. I felt like a fraud. That part sucked." Her eyes searched his, looking for affirmation. "Do you ever get used to it?"

"I did, years ago. I had to, given that it's part and parcel of being a cape," he explained patiently. "When we put on our costumes and go out there, we project an image. We show ourselves as larger than life. It's what those tights and bright primary colours are all about."

"So she wasn't looking at me-me," she said, realisation lighting up her face. "She was looking at the image I was projecting."

"Precisely," he agreed, pleased that she was understanding this so quickly. "The reason we're comfortable with showing this image to strangers is because we have no baseline of experience with said strangers. It's when we encounter our mundane friends that the cognitive dissonance occurs. As you've noted, we're used to being treated a certain way by those we know well. When someone you know treats you like a totally different person, that can cause things to feel, as you so succinctly put it, weird."

"Yes, exactly," she agreed. "That's totally how I feel. How do you deal with it?" The look she gave him suggested that he should know exactly how to solve the conundrum; if not age-old, it was certainly older than she was.

Amused, he snorted. "That's the big question. Some people rather enjoy the feeling, and so the problem is moot for them. Others do their best to avoid their friends and relatives, to keep the two worlds separate. Some, of course, let their nearest and dearest in on the secret. But if you're unwilling to do any of that, or if you've already met your friends while in costume …" Then things can get convoluted.

"As we just did," she pointed out with a mischievous smile.

He tilted his head to acknowledge the point. "Exactly. In this case, I suggest that you cultivate a certain mental division of identity. Be sure to remind yourself which face you are showing before you blurt out something potentially revealing. Having Marchioness ask Taylor if she's finished her English assignment probably won't end well for your secret identity. And if you ever decide to start sharing it, it's essential that you keep track of who knows it and who doesn't."

"Oh." Her face fell somewhat. "I thought there was going to be more to it than that. A power thing, maybe. Or some cool secret cape technique."

With a chuckle, he playfully ruffled her hair. "You should know by now, my dear Claire, things are not always easy. Our powers can't be used to solve everything, even though yours are very useful indeed."

She batted his hand away. "Which reminds me. Do you always carry a disguise kit in the car?"

"Certainly," he said cheerfully. "You didn't always have your powers, you know. And even now that you do, I'm not so foolish as to depend on you to always be on hand. I used to carry a kit to make me look like Earl Marchant at a moment's notice. Now I carry a kit to make me look like Marquis." He touched his cheekbone. "And before you ask, yes, it hurts, but I can do it. It's just not as easy as you make it look."

"That's because I change the shape of the muscles and skin at the same time as the bone," she informed him dryly. "For me, it looks easy because it is. My power does all the heavy lifting. All I've really got to do is tell it what I want the end result to be."

"Hm," he replied, intrigued. "So, that combat claw you showed me. Do you have an idea of what the whole body would look like, and would it be viable to apply it to another person for an extended amount of time?" The suddenly thoughtful look on her face had him smiling. Oh, yeah. Haven't thought of all the tricks yet.

"Um, kind of," she said after a moment of consideration. "Anyone I made the change to, I'd have to be on hand to change them back or they'd starve to death in only a few days. Because it's a purely combat form, the digestive system is just more organs to be damaged in a fight, so I'd leave them out altogether. For myself, I can simply add nutrition as needed, but that doesn't work for anyone else."

Earl frowned. "That's not … it usually takes weeks to starve. Why would it take days?" Claire, he knew, did not make definitive statements like that on a whim.

"Because along with the enhanced reflexes, I 'd be boosting the metabolism through the roof," she explained. "I could possibly make the skin solar absorbent, but that wouldn't totally solve the problem, and the skin structure would be compromised as a result." She grinned impishly at him. "Besides, dead black skin means nobody would see me coming at night, and in the daytime I'd be scary as heck."

He raised his eyebrows, interested in how far she had thought this through. "I'm presuming that your face would be unrecognisable."

Earnestly, she nodded. "Well, yeah. I'm thinking of a predator head type, with a muzzle, like a lion or a wolf. I'd make it a little bigger than mine, with a secondary braincase. Connective tissue and shock absorbent fluid between the main skull and the braincase. Lots of teeth. Same sort of deal as the claws, with a layer of enamel just to show up against the blackness and make it look even scarier. You think glowing eyes would be too much?"

He snorted, imagining the effect of meeting such a fanged, clawed nightmare would have on the average street punk. "I suspect that you would utterly cure some people of the bad habit of hanging about in dark alleys."

"Oh, good," she giggled, obviously pleased at his praise. "This is more a thought experiment than anything else, of course. I mean, it's not something that I'll really be able to apply to any of your guys long-term, and as for myself, I prefer the Marchioness form. I'm not really interested in being a scary vigilante of the night. But I've already thought of some useful applications for Jonas' next body upgrade." She raised her voice slightly. "I think you'll like them, Jonas."

"I'm sure I will, chick," the bodyguard's voice rumbled from the driver's seat.

"Well, however you think of it, I suggest you keep working at it," Earl said honestly. "Your power is extremely versatile; in my honest opinion, you should never throw away the option of being able to utterly terrify your enemies." His smile was a little nostalgic; thinking back, he recalled putting the fear of God into more than one adversary over the years. Which was well and good; if they backed off, he didn't have to kill them.

"Well, I suppose so," she conceded, then shot him a grin. "Mind you, there's something that no amount of power is going to save me from."

One arched, elegant eyebrow rose. "Oh? What's that?"

<><>​

The Next Night
The Hebert Household
Claire

"Seriously, Claire, you should've seen them!" Taylor rose on to her knees on her bed, face flushed with excitement. She waved her hands to emphasise her words. "They were badass as hell!"

Claire nodded, working at keeping the awe-struck expression on her face as she sat cross-legged on the bed, leaning back against the wall. Emma sat at the other end, with Taylor between them. "Wow, Taylor. I wish I'd been there." She paused. "Well, maybe not there there."

Beside her, Emma nodded vigorously. "Being mugged like that. Brr." Claire could tell that her shudder was not entirely an act. "I have no idea what I'd do in a situation like that. Scream and run away, I think."

"Yeah, but no, I mean after Marquis and Marchioness showed up." Taylor's voice was alight with enthusiasm. Claire was close enough to her that she was able to feel the currents of emotion in Taylor's brain; amazingly enough, although there was still a little buried trauma, she was bouncing back fast from the majority of what had happened to her.

Claire tilted her head. "So why didn't you? Run away, I mean? I mean, you can run faster than anyone I know." She knew why, of course, but Taylor needed to talk it out, even if she didn't know it.

Taylor shook her head. "I couldn't leave Mom and Dad. And I might have run into more of them. So yeah. But wow, Marquis was all cool and so totally in charge of the whole deal. His men were pretty cool too, in a really-scary-but-on-your-side type of way, you know? Soon as Dad pulled out the money, they were all about protecting us. I mean, Dad got hurt, but I got to save his life." Her voice had dropped to a whisper, as if she couldn't believe what she was saying.

"Yeah, wow, that's all kinds of awesome," Emma agreed. "I mean, how many people out there can say they've saved their dad's life?" The look that she gave Taylor was partly envious and partly sympathetic. "Though it must have really sucked at the time."

"Well, from what you told me, you really did save his life," Claire said. "I've done first aid courses, and one of the things they tell you is that keeping pressure on a wound until help arrives is one of the really, really big things you can do to keep someone alive." She acted out a shudder. "Even if blood is kind of icky and gross."

"Yeah, I thought so too," Taylor confided, looking at her hands as if seeing them anew. "But I didn't even think about taking my hands away, you know? I mean, it was Dad. Mom was busy keeping him awake and so I had to do it. And I was all kinds of scared that I was doing it wrong, but now I'm really glad I did it. I want to do first aid too."

"Yeah, me too," Emma chimed in. "Being able to save someone's life with it … wow." Her tone was definitely admiring.

"So what happened then?" Emma was sitting forward expectantly, her eyes alight with interest. "I mean, sure, we know your dad's all right, but how?"

"Okay." Taylor tucked her knees under herself. "This is where it gets insane. So the Marquis guys have totally wrecked the Empire assholes, right? Mom's talking to Dad, I've got my hands on the stab wound. Next thing, the Brockton Bay Brigade showed up. Mega Girl, Brandish and Lady Photon. Brandish is all 'Imma arresting you' to the Marquis guys, right up until Marquis and Marchioness drive up. Marquis just walks on over and goes 'no you're not'. At least that's what I think they were saying. I kinda had my hands full."

"So was there a fight?" Claire felt a little bad about interrupting the story, but she could tell that Taylor was enjoying herself hugely. "I read somewhere that before he left the city, he beat them lots of times."

"Nope, no fight, sorry." Taylor glanced from Claire to Emma and back again. "You know how I said it got insane? It got insaner. Marchioness is like nineteen or so, and her costume's an evening gown. She walked up and stood there chatting to Mega Girl, who's actually pretty cool too, and Dad's stab wound basically closed right up. I thought it was something really bad, like his heart had stopped or something, but it turned out that she'd just healed him. Like a frickin' boss."

"What, without even touching him?" Emma looked deeply impressed. "That is actually kinda awesome."

"You're telling me?" Taylor fell over backward on to the bed. "I was there and I'm still not sure if I believe it." She raised herself on to her elbows and snorted. "Oh, god. Then Brandish came over and started getting in Marchioness' face. She was saying something about Marchioness not being Marquis' kid, or something. They shut her down pretty hard on that one, then they just … strolled off. I think Brandish wanted to go after them, but Lady Photon wouldn't let her."

Claire hid a snicker at the memory. Lady Photon and Mega Girl had both accepted pretty quickly that they weren't going to get anywhere. The look on Brandish's face when she realised the same thing had been a thing of beauty.

"So what was Marquis like?" she asked. "I mean, he's like forty or fifty or something, isn't he?" A movement at the doorway caused her to look over that way; she saw her father standing there. She raised her eyebrows questioningly. He shook his head slightly; if she was reading things right, they weren't going quite yet. Casually, she went on, "Some say he might even be sixty." If she had any doubt that he hadn't heard what had gone before, this was dispelled by the sharp raising of his eyebrows. She grinned impudently at him and went on. "He left Brockton Bay like more than ten years ago, didn't he?" With a look that promised future retribution, he turned and left, unnoticed by both of the other girls. She didn't snigger, but it was an effort.

"God, no," Taylor said, rolling her head from side to side on the covers. "He wouldn't be any more than thirty or maybe a young looking forty. He hasn't got any grey hairs. Well, maybe he dyes it or something. Definitely not any older than my dad or yours, or yours, Emma."

Claire made a mental note. Maybe Dad needs to start showing signs of age. Even if they are only cosmetic. In his non-Marquis form, anyway.

"So, the really important question," Emma said firmly. "This is life or death, Taylor. Did you, or did you not, get Mega Girl's autograph?" She stared at her taller friend expectantly.

Taylor sat up abruptly, as if she were propelled like a spring. "I knew I forgot something!" she exclaimed. Bounding off the bed, she retrieved her purse from the top drawer of her dresser. "Check it out." With a flourish, she snapped the purse open and delved into one of the pockets. Claire wasn't quite sure what to expect, and so she was mildly disappointed when Taylor produced what looked like a simple business card.

"Umm …" began Emma. "Is that signed? Because I can't see." Claire could hear the curiosity in her tone.

Taylor grinned widely and turned her hand. Claire saw that there were actually three cards there; when Taylor fanned them out, it became obvious that all three had been autographed. "Oh yeah," Taylor told them triumphantly. "I am such a good friend, I got my besties one each as well. So do I rock or do I rock?"

Emma's eyes opened wide, and she let out such a high-pitched squeal that Claire automatically adjusted her ears to protect herself. "Holy shit, Taylor! For reals?"

"As real as it gets, Ems," Taylor declared, swaggering over to the bed. She handed Emma one card and gave another to Claire, before plumping herself back down.

"You do kind of rock," Claire admitted, looking the card over. On the one side was scribbled 'Mega Girl' and on the other was a printed toll-free number for the Brockton Bay Brigade. "And she just signed these for you? Just from you asking?"

"Hey, she seemed a bit surprised that I even asked," Taylor said. "But once I convinced her that I wasn't joking, she asked me how many I wanted." She shrugged, then grinned. "So of course I thought of my two besties. She said something about getting cards printed with her signature on them, like Marchioness does."

"What, really?" Emma paused in her gloating over the autograph to stare at Taylor. "Marchioness is giving out autographs too?"

Um. Crap. Claire tried to think. Did I make a mistake in presenting my image? For the most part, she didn't think so; when consulted, her father had not second-guessed her decisions. Spandex was not something that suited the image of Marchioness, daughter of Marquis, and so she had gone with the evening dress. Culture and refinement were the watchwords that she and her father were aiming for, and she'd thought they had succeeded. Except that I overdid it with the cards. She'd been intending to appear 'cool and interesting' by handing out cards with her signature printed on them … and now, one of her best friends was describing them as 'autographs'. Dammit.

"Oh, yeah," Taylor said cheerfully. "Mega Girl had one. She showed me. Said it was the coolest thing she ever got." Which cheered Claire up a little, but not by a huge amount.

"I think it would be weird to get an autograph from a supervillain," Emma mused. "What do you think, Claire? You're awful quiet over there." She gave Claire a bright, inquisitive look.

"Well, from what Taylor's been saying, I dunno if you'd even call Marchioness a villain," Claire ventured. Don't lay it on too thick, now. "I mean, she healed Mr Hebert. What villain does that?"

"Fair point," conceded Emma. "Tails? You've met Marchioness. Hero or villain?"

Taylor fell back on the bed once more. "Dunno," she said from her prone position. "Her dad's a villain, and she stood by him. I mean, from what I saw. Brandish really wanted to bust his balls, so I think there's some history there. She came out and healed Dad, so that's kind of heroic. And Mega Girl said something about her being paid to go and sit in the waiting room of the Brockton Bay General, so that's kinda rogue-ish?"

"Right," Claire decided, as dryly as she could manage. "So what we have here is a heroic villain who's kind of like a rogue. Yeah, that clears it all up."

Emma threw the pillow at her.

<><>​

Dallon Household
Victoria

The front door lock clicked; without hesitating, Victoria Dallon levitated straight up from the sofa and performed a mid-air twisting backflip to land on her feet in front of the door. "And what sort of hour do you call this to come home, young lady?" she asked mock-sternly as the door opened.

Her mother was the first one in. She looked a little better than she had that morning, but there were still lines of stress around her eyes. She gave Victoria a weary hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Nice try, dear, but not the time," she advised her daughter. "I'm going to have a shower and go to bed."

"You do that, honey," Mark Dallon said. "I'll be up in a little while." As his wife climbed the stairs, he turned to Victoria. "Have you eaten?"

She nodded. "Yeah, Dad. Microwaved an instant meal out of the freezer. Then I stole one of Mom's pudding cups." She paused, listening. When there was no call from upstairs, she went on. "Wow, she must be really out of it. Normally when I say that, she yells at me from three rooms away."

"As she said, it's not the best time to tease her," Mark said. "Last night kicked over some buried issues, and she spent more time than I'd like stewing over it after it was all done. So she's had to go see her therapist again today, and I took her for a meal on the Boardwalk afterward, to decompress from the therapy."

Victoria grimaced. "A bit rough, huh?" She knew how her mom's issues could be; the therapy had helped a lot, but there were still some deep-seated issues that that she was dealing with. She could keep things together for the most part, but when certain buttons got pressed, her old problems had a habit of showing up again out of the blue. I know Mom hates Marquis. I'm just not sure why. It can't be just because he's a villain. She doesn't act this way around other villains.

"Rougher than it's been for a while," he admitted, running his hand through his hair. "I'm pretty wiped too, and I'm just the one who sat there and held her hand."

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "Mainly so she wouldn't pop a blade and cut the guy's desk in half?" Mark gave her a wry grin. "I refuse to confirm or deny. Anyway, she only did it the once."

"Yeah, but once is way too many times for most people." Victoria gave her father a hug. "You're doing good work. Saving the world, one desk at a time."

Returning the hug, he snorted a laugh. "I guess I've heard worse battle cries. Listen, I'm going to wait for your mom to finish her shower before I have one myself and go to bed. Try not to stay up past nine, okay?"

"I was about done here anyway, now that the parental units have returned." She floated up and kissed him on the forehead. "Night, Dad. Give Mom a hug for me."

"I'll do that, Vicky girl. And before I forget, thanks." Taking her hand, he squeezed it.

"For what? Waiting up for you?" She shrugged, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "You guys are the most important people in the world to me. Think I'd just go to bed and forget about you?"

He smiled at the compliment, although she'd really meant it as a statement of fact. "Well, that and how patient you're being with me and your mom, with the stress she's going through right now. We really do appreciate it."

"Well, given that I lack a magic super-power just to make you feel good out of the blue, this is gonna have to do," she told him, squeezing his hand right back. "Night, Dad. Love you."

"Night, Vicky girl." Letting go of her hand, he headed up the stairs.

She watched him go, then started to tidy up, humming softly to herself. Mom's gonna be okay. Me and Dad are gonna make sure of it.

<><>​

Claire stretched out in the back of the limousine and kicked her shoes off. "That was nice. Thanks for letting me make sure that they were okay." She wriggled her toes, enjoying the sensation.

Earl nodded seriously. "They do seem to have come through it remarkably intact. Although, if I'm not much mistaken, Annette's going to be wrapping Danny in cotton wool for quite some time to come." He chuckled. "He seems to be torn between enjoying the attention and being annoyed at the over-protectiveness."

"I saw that, yes," Claire said with a giggle. She sat up, tucking her legs under herself. "Taylor's doing well, too. In fact, she wants to meet Marchioness again, so she can get some of the signed business cards." Leaning back against the seat, she smiled. "Mega Girl autographed some of the Brigade's cards for her. She was rapt, and I think Emma's going to frame hers."

Earl raised an eyebrow. "I'm reasonably sure that you didn't come up with the idea of the signed card as a way to give out autographs."

"Hah. No." Claire rolled her eyes. "But if that's the way they're taking it, I guess that's the way it's going to happen. It's not like I can stop them from thinking that way." She caught her father's amused glance. "Well, okay, yes I can, but I'm not about to do that. Not to Taylor and Emma. It's harmless, and they're my friends."

Leaning across, he put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I'm very proud of you, Claire. You're really showing maturity and restraint with your powers."

She put her hand on his and returned the gesture. "I had a good teacher. Several, in fact." Turning to him, she let her voice become more serious. "So how did the discussion of the Boat Graveyard initiative go?"

He sighed. "The mayor's office is still being problematic. Even if the city doesn't have to pony up quite so much money to make it happen, I'm reasonably sure that there are people in that building who have a vested interest in making sure that the ferry doesn't run. If only because it would interfere with their own pet projects." A look of irritation crossed his face as he laced his fingers together behind his neck. "It almost makes me wonder if it's worth it to pay some of them a midnight visit."

"To convince them or to disappear them?" asked Claire with interest. "And if you do, can I come along?"

He shot her a startled glance. "Claire-bear, I was only making small-talk. It was a joke."

"Dad, I've known for years what sort of things you used to do back in the day," Claire said patiently. "Just like I know what nearly happened to me the night the Brigade broke into our home. You never told me up front, but I figured it all out." She gave him a winning smile.

"Well, I don't do that sort of thing any more." He heaved an aggravated sigh. "And in any case, I'm not about to drag you into it. You're only thirteen, for God's sake."

"Yeah, I'm thirteen." She rolled her eyes, to go along with the sarcastic tone. "I'm not a little kid any more. I've killed people. Made their bodies break down and fall apart. Like it or not, Dad, I've already been dragged into it by the guys who killed Damien. Remember?"

His tone was pleading as he spoke again. "Yes, but I don't want you to jump into it feet-first. I want you to go to school, have fun with your friends, and actually enjoy your teenage years. Too many capes just don't get to do that."

"Sure, but I can do that and still help you out," she argued. "We can call it a 'father-daughter social project'." The concept struck her as funny. "Though I'm pretty sure the school won't put it toward my academic credit."

"If it did, I'd be strongly considering transferring you to another school," he retorted, sounding somewhat amused. Then he sighed again. "Very well. You may accompany me if and possibly when I seek to alter the attitude of any of the more intransigent of the Mayor's colleagues."

"You know, I could do it more easily than you could," she pointed out guilelessly. "And they wouldn't even need to remember that it had happened."

He raised his eyebrow, giving her a very dry stare. "You do realise, you're taking all the joy out of being a ruthless crime lord. Striking terror into the hearts of those who oppose you is part of the fun of the job."

I suppose he's got a point. "So you scare the people who need to remember not to mess with you," she suggested. "I can handle the ones who just need to have their attitudes changed a little."

She'd meant it more light-heartedly than anything else, but he seemed to take the concept seriously. "I do believe that you might have something there," he said slowly. "On that note, I have a meeting scheduled at Somer's Rock tomorrow with Kaiser. If you wish to attend, I can contact the school and advise them that you are ill."

"Really?" She leaned toward him, eyes alight with interest. "Is he looking to apologise for sending his men into your territory?"

"Not as such," he admitted, expression pensive. "He flat-out denied that they were even members of the Empire, though he did suggest that some of them might have been ex-members. This meeting is so he can look me in the eye and assure me that he's not intruding on my territory. I'd like you along so you can advise me of the truth of his assertions. If he's telling the truth, we find out who's trying to provoke us into a war and deal with them."

"And if he's talking through his ass?" Claire raised her eyebrows, trying to imitate her father without cheating by way of activating individual muscles.

Her father's face set into harsher lines than the normal; unusually for him, he did not rebuke her for bad language. "Well then, Claire-bear. We show him the error of his ways."

The expression on Claire's face might have been called a smile by someone who had never seen one before. "And not a moment before time."

They both settled back to contemplate their thoughts; Claire began to wonder if it would simply be easier to alter the Empire leader's attitudes. Of course, it would have to be subtle so that nobody around him noticed the difference until it was too late. A minute passed, the only sound in the car coming from the muted noise of tyres on asphalt.

"Speaking of time." His voice was softer now, with an amused undertone. "I believe I have something to raise with you, regarding how old I was supposed to be as Marquis. Was it fifty or sixty that you finally settled on?"

Ah, crap. Talk fast. "I was just kidding around, you know? They don't know I'm Marchioness, and they definitely don't know that you're Marquis. It was just a joke."

"So I see." Claire could read the pattern of emotions in his brain; even though she could tell he was more amused than angry, she wasn't exactly sure that this was a good thing. "Never let it be said that I don't appreciate a good joke. Why, I'm falling over laughing on the inside."

She eyed his deadpan expression, and failed to be reassured. "So, uh, you're not mad?"

"No, I'm not angry." His expression had not changed. Nor had the tone of his emotions. "But if you do it again, you may just find out that you're not too old to be spanked. Or grounded. There is a certain amount of respect due to one's father, after all."

Spanked? Really? Claire had not been spanked in years; if she thought about it at all, she'd decided that it was because she hadn't earned any punishments. He's joking, right? "You wouldn't. Would you?"

"Oh, Claire." He chuckled lightly. "I thought you were familiar with my earlier career. Do you know how many people used those exact words to me? And what happened to them thereafter?"

She hadn't dug that far into his past, but from what she had seen, it wasn't hard to connect the dots. Challenging him in that fashion was apparently a very bad idea. Then a brainwave occurred to her. "But … you don't harm women or kids. It's one of your things. And I'm both."

"Also true." His smile widened slightly, and the amount of amusement he was feeling adjusted upward just a little. "However, I'm an old-fashioned sort of man. I don't believe that appropriate discipline meets the definition of 'harm'."

"Oh. Um." She paused for a long moment. "Then, uh, would a sincere apology be in order?" Watching her expectantly, he didn't say a word. "Uh, right. I'm sorry that I made fun of your age in front of Taylor and Emma. I won't do it again."

"Apology accepted, Claire-bear," he said quietly. "And no, I'm not mad. I could never be angry with you." Reaching out, he clasped her hand. "Discipline, yes. Anger, no."

She could tell that he was speaking the exact truth. "Thanks. I'll try to be good from now on."

The burst of amusement startled her. "'Good' be damned, young lady. Be smart. Plan your battles accordingly, or the last opponent you face will be someone who's better at planning than you."

She blinked, a little taken aback by the shift in attitude. "Is that from Sun Tzu?" She'd been reading The Art of War now and again, more because it was on the bookshelf than for any other reason.

"Hm? No, that's all me." He squeezed her hand. "You do realise that there is no physical discipline that I can inflict on you that you would not be able to stop me from doing with a wave of your hand?"

He was, of course, entirely correct. However … "But I couldn't do that to you, Dad. I mean … you're my dad."

Even if she hadn't been monitoring his brain, she probably still would have caught the wave of love and affection that washed through him. "And you're my Claire-bear," he replied gently. "And I will do my damnedest to make sure that you never have to use your powers to fight, ever again."

Impulsively, she undid her seatbelt and scooted across to sit next to him. His arm went around her shoulders, and she leaned into him. "Thanks, Dad. I appreciate it."

"That's okay," he said softly. "Just do me a favour, and don't cast aspersions on Kaiser's age when we meet with him tomorrow, all right? Because if you do that, I don't think I'll be able to keep that promise."

She giggled. "I'll try."

<><>​

Medhall Building
Max Anders

"You're certain there's no other way?" Max hated feeling like he was on the back foot. Events were moving a little faster than he was comfortable with. "We can't come to some accommodation with the man?"

Krieg, in full costume, paced back and forth on the other side of the desk. "With all due respect, Max, you never saw just how good Marquis is. He left Brockton Bay before you took over from your father. I don't know why, and I'm not holding out much hope for being able to make him leave again."

Max frowned. He knew exactly what the phrase 'with all due respect' really meant. "I heard that he was good at what he did."

"That's an understatement, Max." Krieg came to a halt before the desk, his hands flat on the polished wood. "He held his own, with no super-powered assistance, against the worst that the PRT, the Teeth, Galvanate, the Brigade, the Nine and the Empire could throw at him. When he did leave town, it was on his own terms. And now he's back, with parahuman assistance."

"They say she's his daughter," Max said, if only to take back the initiative in the conversation. "Perhaps pressure could be put on him that way?"

"I didn't mean just her," Krieg stated flatly. "Some of the men he's got working for him have low-end Brute and Mover ratings. And not one of the moles we've slipped in to his organisation has been able to find a single actionable piece of information on him, the girl or anyone else. If I didn't know better, I'd think they've got all of them isolated so they can't find anything out."

"I'm going to assume you tried bribery," Max said, starting to get irritated. He disliked being pushed into a corner, and that was what this felt like.

"Of course we tried bribery." Krieg snorted. "Nobody who accepted knew anything. The rest reacted really badly, to the point that we lost people. His organisation's a black box. One that hits back hard."

Max spread his hands. "That isn't a good reason for going overboard like this."

"It really is." Krieg leaned forward slightly. "The Merchants are gone. He walked in and took over without even breaking stride. We know he's stomped on Lung's toes already. It seems to me that he's looking to push everyone out."

"We could broker a deal," Max suggested. The vibe he was getting off Krieg was that once they set events in motion, there was no way back. He wasn't scared as such, but he didn't want to commit himself without checking out the options first. "Work the city as partners, once he's forced the ABB out of town."

Krieg chuckled, as if Max had said something funny. "Certainly we could do that, but we'd have to curtail some of our business practices. Drugs, for one. The man doesn't believe in them. And if we kept our streetwalkers, he'd insist on improving their working conditions and giving them the option of moving up and out of the business. Also, no more beating up on women and kids. No matter what colour they were."

Max blinked a few times, trying to assimilate what he was being told. "Please tell me that this is some sort of joke in extremely bad taste. How the hell can anyone make a profit like that?"

"Apparently, being a one-man organisation cuts way down on overhead," Krieg suggested dryly. "That was how he ran things back in the day. I see no reason to believe that he's changed his ways."

"And we'd have to fall into line with his way of doing things?" Max couldn't see how that would work. "If we do that, it'll bleed us dry. We can't do it."

Krieg nodded, his voice intense. "Exactly my point. We've got two options. Cooperate with him or kill him. Whichever one we choose, we have to go all-out with it. Because if we half-ass it either way, we get him on our case, and I don't want to be the one reacting to what he's doing. Because that way, we will lose."

Max grimaced. "And we can't afford to kowtow to him. It would cut the Empire's throat. Father would rise from the grave just to strangle me in my sleep." He was reasonably sure that he was joking. Sighing, he nodded to Krieg. "So, we kill him." He paused. "Except that …"

"Except that if we're seen to kill him too visibly, that paints a target on our backs," Krieg agreed. "The trouble is, he's really good, and if we're too careful there's a good chance that he'll see it coming, pull out a counter, and then we've got Marquis on our case." He paused, waiting for Max to ask the obvious question.

It seemed that there was a catch there, but Max wasn't the type to back off from a challenge. "So what's the solution?"

"It's simple." Krieg didn't quite look smug, but he was certainly somewhat pleased with himself. "We blow up Somer's Rock, with him inside."

A certain number of factors became suddenly clear to Max. "Those men – they were ours, weren't they? You set this up." He stood up and leaned over the desk. "I told Marquis that I didn't know whose they were. You made me look like a fool."

"No." Krieg smiled coldly. "It's called 'plausible deniability'. I actually sent those men after Daniel Hebert. It was supposed to be a 'robbery gone wrong', as the saying goes. It's just irritating that they were dealt with before they disposed of him." He gestured toward Max. "And because you knew nothing of it, you could claim ignorance, with no chance of giving the game away."

"What?" Max stared at Krieg. "Seriously, what the hell do we have against Hebert? Or rather, what the hell do you have against Hebert? Because I know the Empire hasn't got a beef with him."

Krieg stared back at him unrepentantly. "I was contacted by a certain someone from the Mayor's office. They were willing to pay twenty large under the table to ensure the death by gang violence of Daniel Hebert. Or some guy called Earl Marchant, but Hebert was easier to get to."

"What … the … hell?" Max couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Why the hell would you take a job like that?"

"Why not?" Krieg's tone was matter of fact. "Twenty thousand, in the hand. A one-off job, and there's always the chance of blackmailing the Mayor's office later, so I took it."

"And failed." Max's voice was hard. "Don't forget that little aspect."

"This time. The cops think it was a robbery gone wrong and the guys who actually had the order to kill Hebert are dead, so nobody's looking at us. We can try again. Armed robbery at the Dockworkers, for instance." Krieg's tone was confident.

"No." Max slapped the desk. "We're putting that one on hold until I've had a look at it. And in the meantime, you can explain to me why you think blowing up the one neutral meeting place in Brockton Bay is a fucking good idea."

"For one thing, nobody will know it was us." Krieg spread his hands. "And for another, nobody will be sad to see Marquis wiped off the map. He's too damn pushy, and you know it. So we build another neutral meeting place. No big deal. In the meantime, Marquis is fucking dead."

"He's not dead yet," Max reminded him harshly. "And if anyone finds out that we arranged this assassination in a neutral meeting place – well, actually, they'll suspect the fuck out of us no matter what we do. But if anyone comes up with any actual proof, we're fucked. The Empire's name will be shit from one end of New England to the other."

"I took precautions," Krieg assured him confidently. "The bomb was put together by an explosives expert from Boston. Not a Tinker, just someone who's good at making things blow up. He's going to suffer a sudden and very explicable accident in his lab sometime in the next few days."

Max was starting to get his composure back. There was such a thing as initiative, but Krieg was seriously overstepping the mark, here. "So was there anything else you've neglected to tell me?" he asked, injecting a certain amount of sarcasm into his voice. "Or have you decided to remove me entirely from the decision-making process of the Empire Eighty-Eight?" He tensed, just in case that was truly Krieg's intention.

"No!" If the surprise and concern in his lieutenant's voice were faked, then Krieg was a better actor than Max had given him credit for. "You've been busy over the last few days, so I thought I'd get proactive with the Marquis thing before it got on top of us."

"And it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, hmm?" Max gave Krieg a very dry look, noting the man's wince with internal satisfaction.

"Something like that," Krieg admitted. He glanced at Max, possibly trying to gauge how angry he was. "Are you calling the plan off?"

"Not yet." Max leaned back in his chair. "Fill me in on the rest of it."

Krieg seemed to relax slightly. "Hookwolf, Stormtiger and Cricket will be accompanying me to the meeting, and we'll be a few minutes late. Once the bomb goes off, we'll do any necessary clean-up, plant clues pointing at the ABB, and so forth. Then we'll leave the cops to come and pick up the pieces."

Max nodded, waiting for Krieg to continue. When the older man didn't say any more, Max leaned forward and placed his hands on the desk. "So, what do you have planned for the girl?"

Krieg shrugged. "Once Marquis is dead, she'll need somewhere to go. A healer as versatile as she is will be in great demand. We can supply a refuge for her."

"And if she's unwilling?" Max considered that to be the more likely scenario. "If, for instance, she suspects us of being complicit in her father's death?"

"Well, if she insists on being unreasonable about it, there's always re-education." Krieg's voice was casual, but Max knew he was being serious. Krieg's parent organisation, Gesellschaft, had the wherewithal to brainwash and reprogram capes, enforcing total loyalty at the cost of anything resembling a normal personality.

Max considered the idea. Being rid of Marquis was a distinctly positive outcome; gaining a ranged healer into the bargain was a serious bonus, even if she did need to be re-educated before the Empire Eighty-Eight could make use of her. He nodded. "That sounds reasonable."

"So the plan is a go, then?" Krieg seemed to have grasped the extent of his previous faux pas; while the relief in his voice was difficult to pick out, it was definitely there.

"It is." Max opened a folder on his desk and waited till Krieg was at the door. "And James?"

Krieg looked back on hearing his name. "Yes, Max?"

Max gave him a cold smile. "Don't fuck this up. And if you blindside me like this again, there'll be a new opening in the chain of command."

The door shut behind Krieg; Max closed the folder once more.

<><>​

The Next Morning
Claire

"So if Kaiser's lying, I don't say anything," Claire said carefully. "Do I nudge you or something?"

Marquis looked out through the tinted window of the limousine as it rolled down the dingy street. "No. He might notice. Can you make the nerves in my hand twitch?"

"Easily." She grinned mischievously at him. "How bad do you want the twitch to be?"

"Enough to notice, but not enough to make my hand move." He lifted his hands and flexed them. "Two twinges on my right hand to say that he's telling the truth, and two on the left to say that he's lying."

She nodded, thinking about that. "Makes sense. And if I don't think he's actually lying, but what he's saying might not be the truth anyway, I'll twinge both at the same time."

"Exactly." He beamed, showing the pride that she knew he felt for her. "If I'd had you at my side in the old days, we would have owned the whole city."

"Think we can do it this time around?" She was relatively sure of the answer. "Or do we even want to?" That one, she was less sure of. Ruling a whole city sounded like work.

"Oh, we can do it, no question whatsoever," he stated confidently. She couldn't read his thoughts, but at this level of proximity she could sense the ebb and flow of his emotions, and he was very sure of himself. "Of course, your point is valid. Far better to establish overall ownership then ensure that the city will run smoothly, and leave it to do just that. People just need to learn to adhere to certain rules, and we will all get along just fine."

"Nothing that hurts women or kids, gotcha." Claire nodded. It was a time-honoured mantra of her father's, and one that she had no trouble grasping.

"Precisely. And it seems that we are here." Marquis leaned forward slightly. "Jonas, pull up around the corner. Once you've dropped us off, circle the block and park an inconspicuous distance away. We should not be long."

"Yes, sir," rumbled the large man. He began to slow down, preparatory to turning the corner. "I'll have eyes on the front doors."

"Good man." As the car pulled to a halt, Marquis opened the door. Climbing out, he offered Claire his hand, assisting her from the car. The moment he closed the door once more, Jonas pulled away from the curb; from start to finish, the entire process had taken no more than thirty seconds.

Reaching into his fob pocket, Marquis produced an antique watch, which Claire had given to him for his birthday the previous year. To her delight, he had stopped wearing wristwatches thereafter. Popping the cover, he checked the time. "Splendid," he declared, offering Claire his arm. "We're two minutes early. Shall we walk?"

"I believe that we shall," she replied, doing her best to emulate his cultured tone. Taking his arm, she strolled alongside him toward the unprepossessing front doors to Somer's Rock. At the same time, she pushed her senses outward, scanning the local area.

"He's not here yet," she murmured, barely moving her lips, as they came up to the doors. "Nobody's in the main area."

Marquis' smile was brilliant, with just a chilly edge to it. "If he chooses to make me wait, I will be taking it out of his hide." Pushing open the door, he scanned the room beyond, then stepped inside. Claire followed in his wake, wondering just how bad Somer's Rock's business was that nobody was in here on a weekday. Or maybe Kaiser told them to chase everyone out for this meeting.

Marquis produced his pocket-watch once more as he moved toward the nearest table. "Thirty seconds to nine," he noted with satisfaction. "Shall we take a seat?" Pulling out a chair, he offered it to Claire.

She paused, looking around. Something's not right. "Where's the waitstaff?" she asked. "The last time we were here, there was a guy behind the counter and a waitress."

Her father frowned. "That does seem odd, yes."

Claire directed her power inward, enlarging her sinuses and retasking the sensory regions of her brain. Her eyesight dimmed a little and became black and white, while many of the overtones of the sounds around her died away. She inhaled deeply, cancelling out familiar scents as she encountered them. Herself, smelled many times. Ignore. Her father, almost as well-known. Ignore. Wood. Dirt. Stale food. Ignore. Blood, not fresh. Almonds, fresh. That's odd. No, that's not just odd. Something's very wrong here. She turned to her father. "I smell a body. Someone died, and bled, a few hours ago. And I smell almonds, and no other fresh food smell at all."

Marquis' eyes opened very wide indeed. Claire saw the sparking of realisation as his higher faculties caught up with the situation. "Trap! Bomb!" Changes cascaded through his body as adrenaline production went into high gear. Scooping her up in his arms, he began to armour them both in bone as he made a dash for the door.

In that split second, Claire accessed Marquis' body systems. She was upgraded to a certain extent, but her Marchioness persona became harder to maintain with each non-standard alteration to the body. Non-human upgrades made things that much harder again. However, her concern was with her father; while she had improved him by a certain amount, he was nowhere near as durable as she could make him.

Carbon fibre, easier and quicker to make than nanotubes, snaked around his bones and bonded with them; while it was still possible to break them, it would now take much more effort. More fibre began to weave throughout his skin, forming a subdermal layer that should absorb and spread out kinetic attacks. Even as she finished his skin, she began on his organs and spine, to prevent -

She didn't see the flash of the bomb going off. The shockwave reached out and smashed her flat against the inside of the bone pod in which her father had encased her. Almost immediately, she was torn from his arms and sent spinning end over end. Something large struck the bone capsule, shattering it; an instant later, tearing agony blasted through her torso. She whirled over and over, dimly aware that she should do something to avoid dying.

Something through right lung. Lung impaired, blood vessels ruptured. She set her power to determining the extent of the damage, then sealing off the damaged veins and arteries. At a thought, carbon fibre began to lace through the area immediately surrounding the impaling wound, reinforcing it against the inevitable damage that would occur when she landed.

There was only a fraction of a second left before she impacted with the ground. Curling into a ball as much as she was able with the metal bar sticking out of her chest, she armoured her skull and spine as well as she could. If only I'd done all this sooner. If only I'd realised it was a trap sooner. If only I'd -

The smashing impact drove her into blackness.

<><>​

Returning to consciousness was not an immediate process. The pounding in Claire's head was in serious competition with urgent messages from the rest of her body, reporting greater and lesser levels of injury. She found it hard to focus her thoughts; even when she opened her eyes carefully, one refused to function at all and the other was alarmingly blurry.

She knew that there was something that needed to be done, but she could barely understand her own thoughts, swimming as they were in an ocean of agony. Dying. In pain.

Her one good eye closed as she attempted to drive a single thought through the universe of suffering that made up her entire being. No. Pain. Just to concentrate on that was like lifting a ton-weight over her own head; as breath hissed past her lips, she ground her teeth and fixed her entire will on that one command.

And then the agony vanished, as if it had never been. She was still aware of the damage that had been done to her body, but now she was able to concentrate … concentrate … why was it so hard to concentrate? There was still something wrong with her. Con … concussion. Hard to think.

Carefully, she started to deal with the bruising and swelling. With each stage of the reconstruction, her head cleared a little, making it easier to do the next one. Halfway through, she realised that her skull was fractured; once that clicked back into place, the pressure on certain parts of her brain eased right off. She also had the high-end olfactory modification still in place; as it was no longer needed, she brought her visual and auditory cortices back to full capacity. The ringing in her ears, which she hadn't even noticed, died away. When she opened her eyes – both eyes, this time – the world was clear and sharp, if she discounted the dust and smoke.

There was also rubble, and lots of it. Some of it pinned her lower body to the ground. Now that her brain was back in working order, she was able to sort through the damage messages more easily. Fractured leg, fractured spine, metal bar through lung, crushed pelvis, fractured arm, multiple contusions, minor bleeding, perforated eardrums, profound deafness from damaged inner ears …

The moment her attention was drawn to her ears, she realised that the buzzing she could hear was the equivalent of white noise. She exerted her power and felt the almost infinitesimal movements of the tiny bones as they reassembled themselves and her eardrums healed over. Sound returned to her world.

" … saw what happened! I can't believe that someone would bomb Somer's Rock!" The voice, which she didn't recognise, came from behind her. She tried to roll over but couldn't, even after she fixed her spine and arms. This was partly because of how her hips were pinned by the debris, and partly because of the metal bar that was still firmly lodged through her chest.

"It is rather a turn-up for the books." That was her father's voice, sounding a little pained but still as cultured as ever. "I would count it as a real favour if you could search for Marchioness, and perhaps help me out of this small difficulty." Reaching out with her senses, she detected her father, along with four others. He was prone, as she was; as far as she could see, the others were upright and unhurt. One was a woman, while the other three were male.

Grasping the bar, she opened up the flesh around it, then drew it out with relative ease. Once it was clear of her body, she set the wound to closing. She could rebuild her lung and rib later; for now, she was happy with their basic functionality. However, now that she was free of the bar, she rebuilt her spine for maximum flexibility, then twisted her upper body ninety degrees so that she could see what was going on.

Her father lay under more rubble, perhaps thirty feet away. Four Empire Eighty-Eight capes stood next to him; if Claire was correct, these were Krieg, Hookwolf, Cricket and Stormtiger. They must be here for the meeting. Why isn't Kaiser here? Already uneasy, she began to get a truly disastrous feeling about this.

While she wasn't close enough to affect him, she could feel her father's injuries. Like her, unsurprisingly, he was dazed, quite possibly to the point that he was having a hard time directing his abilities. Chunks of bone lay alongside him, evidence of his unsuccessful attempts to use his power to lever the rubble off of himself.

"Of course we can do that," Krieg stated. "Cricket, Stormtiger, look for Marchioness. Hookwolf, with me." He crouched beside the largest chunk of concrete and fitted his hands under it. "Ready?"

Hookwolf went to the other side. Metal slid from his skin, changing his right arm into a large grasping claw. "Ready. Three, two, one …"

With slightly detached amusement, Claire saw Cricket and Stormtiger start to walk in the wrong direction. That didn't matter to her; of much more importance was the fact that Hookwolf's left hand, out of Marquis' view, had formed a wicked-looking blade. She tried to call out, only to realise too late that the damage to her chest had affected her vocal chords. It was just the work of a moment to fix them, and she drew breath to scream a warning …

"Go!" snapped Krieg. Hookwolf's arm snapped up and down again; Marquis tried to form bone to deflect it, but he was taken off guard. The heavy blade smashed downward with all the force that the Empire Brute could muster. It smashed through the bone shield and severed Marquis' hand at the wrist. Lifting it again, Hookwolf struck a second time.

Claire screamed, too late. Far too late. The heavy blade struck Marquis in the neck; it passed all the way through and bit deeply into the concrete below. As his head rolled free of his body, Cricket and Stormtiger looked in Claire's direction, then started started toward her.

Time slowed, almost to a halt. Intellectually, Claire knew that this was due to her fight-or-flight mechanisms overclocking her adrenaline production; while this could be a problem in the long run, she wasn't considering that right now. She saw her father's head roll to a stop, his eyes still open and staring at her. Even as his body twitched its last, she saw him focus on her. His lips shaped one word.

Run.



End of Part Ten

Part Eleven

 

[SpokenSoftly]

Goodbye, Empire. It was nice knowing you.

 

[Starfox5]

Damn. How fast does Amelia have to be to reattach the head without brain damage?

 

[SwiftRosenthal]

Damn. How fast does Amelia have to be to reattach the head without brain damage?

Click to shrink...

Three minutes, according to SB. Otherwise, that Aliens marathon will be just the start of Brockton Bay's troubles.

(And if they're really unlucky, her father let her play Prototype.)

 

[Muroshi9]

So I'm thinking with a chapter title like Escalation that this would be a perfect time for a second trigger followed by saving her dad while simultaneously destroying the Empire group that did this though keeping them alive and compliant so she can find out everything she can from them so she can capture the entire Empire before bloodily decapitating the entire group.

 

[ShadowStepper1300]

So I'm thinking with a chapter title like Escalation that this would be a perfect time for a second trigger followed by saving her dad while simultaneously destroying the Empire group that did this though keeping them alive and compliant so she can find out everything she can from them so she can capture the entire Empire before bloodily decapitating the entire group.

Click to shrink...

Been discussed on SB and SV. I think Ack implied that Amelia double-triggered back in Boston?

 

[Prince Charon]

Dead Nazis in 5... 4... 3...

(Seriously, given that she's a Shaker, and we've seen what she can do to people she really hates, there's no way this goes well for the E88. At least she's saving Kaiser the trouble of killing Krieg, but he may not thank her for it.)

 

[Ack]

So I'm thinking with a chapter title like Escalation that this would be a perfect time for a second trigger followed by saving her dad while simultaneously destroying the Empire group that did this though keeping them alive and compliant so she can find out everything she can from them so she can capture the entire Empire before bloodily decapitating the entire group.

Click to shrink...

'Alive' will be true, to a certain extent ..

 

[SamueLewis]

Damn. How fast does Amelia have to be to reattach the head without brain damage?

Click to shrink...

This is Amy we are talking about, she can turn that head into self-contained system to keep Marquis's brain alive and well

Edit: this version doesn't even need skin contact

Second Edit: also, if she could feel her father's body, why couldn't she knock out or kill Krieg and Hookwolf? They were standing right next to him?
Nevermind, reread that part, I'm an idiot...

 

[edale]

"It's a South American poison dart frog venom. The nanotubes actually deliver it to the edges of the claw." She flexed the finger slightly; as he watched, a thick liquid started to bead in the light around the edges of the claw. "There's enough there to kill about fifty people, more or less. And with enough muscle behind it, I figure that I could put it through the skin of a mid-level Brute."

Click to shrink...

It's Poison Dart Frog, named because of the natives that use the poison on the frog's skin on their blowgun darts.

Also, holy shit Ack, you're not taking things 1/2 way, are you? Poison Dart Frog poison is so poisonous that it's in the realms of poisons where arguments over which poison is more poisonous become purely academic. Death occurs in minutes, there is no cure possible, exposure on a cut 1/2 the size of a papercut is enough to kill you, and with a lethal dose better measured in molecules than microliters...

Damn. How fast does Amelia have to be to reattach the head without brain damage?

Click to shrink...

Minor brain damage starts in about 3 minutes without oxygen (temporary amnesia/short-term memory loss). Irrecoverable (by modern medical science) brain damage (vegetative state) starts in about 5 minutes. Brain death can start as early as 6 minutes, though can take up to 10.

In this situation it would be MUCH quicker because of shock. Figure without Amelia's power's intervention irrecoverable brain damage would start setting in after maybe 2 minutes.

That said, reattach? Why? Amelia is quite capable of picking up the head and running, while her powers keep Marquis' brain oxygenated. She can rebuild a body for him out of a compost heap in a pinch. She can also reverse much of the brain damage that would occur from oxygen starvation.

Hell in a real pinch, temporarily she can just plug his head onto her body until she can build him a new one.

 

[Melio]

That's intense! I think you've done a good job showing her growing up over the course of the story.

 

[john doe]

Well there goes every other gang wonder how pamzer is set up. This gang war will be swift and brutal.