Part Thirty-Four: Revelations
Ack
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Another Way
Part Thirty-Four: Revelations
[A/N: This chapter commissioned by @GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: Apologies for the delay. Had stuff to do last month, and so some of my commissions spilled over into this month.]
Sophia Hess (Cape name pending)
"What. The fuck."
Marchioness (who was really Claire, and wasn't that a fucking head-spin) grinned at her as the car moved off smoothly. "Well, from your reaction, it seems my secret identity is safe from the casual observer. If I didn't say it already, thanks for the save."
Her reflexive response took over. "Sure, no problem …" She paused, because she had zero experience in dealing with things like the revelation in front of her. "You're Marchioness. You're Marchioness." If she kept saying it, maybe it would start to make some kind of sense?
"And I'm also Claire Marchant." Claire morphed back into herself, a process that involved her hair retracting into her head, then extruding again as the frizzy auburn mop that Sophia was used to. Then she glanced out the rear window of the car. "Huh. Does it seem to you that we're being followed?"
"It does indeed, Miss Marchant." Jonas, who Sophia hadn't even realised was driving the car up to that point, glanced at the rear-vision mirror. "Your text was short on detail, but it got your father's attention. What's going on, and why are you being followed?"
"Sophia saw that something was wrong before I did." Claire nudged her. "Tell him everything you saw."
Sophia glanced out the back window herself, but there were half a dozen cars there, and she had no idea which one was supposed to be following them. "Um, I was in the mall and I saw Claire talking to that kid we met on the Boardwalk. Jay, I think his name was."
"I recall you speaking about him." Mr Marchant's voice emanated from the car's speakers. "Continue."
Belatedly realising that she was talking to Claire's father—shit, if she's Marchioness, then he has to be Marquis!—Sophia cleared her throat nervously. "Yeah, uh, she was sitting in the food court and he was talking to her, but there was something off about it. He was doing all the talking and leaning really close and holding her hand, and she was just sitting there. Like she was hypnotised or something. The look in his eyes was totally creepy. Oh, and he had a couple of minders. Big bruiser types, standing back in the crowd, watching the two of them."
"Interesting. He's a cape, then?"
"I guess." Sophia paused to gather her thoughts. "So yeah, I went over and asked Claire if she could come talk to me real quick, and he told me to get lost, then she said she was gonna stay right there with him. So, I grabbed his skateboard and smacked him in the mouth with it."
"So that's what you did!" Claire had a look of enlightenment on her face. "Dad, until she did that, it was like I was wrapped in cotton wool. I knew there was a world around me, and that he was a cape, but nothing mattered except listening to him. Then Sophia broke the spell, and his teeth too, and shit went sideways real fast."
"Well done, young lady. I suppose this is why you were obliged to flee the building?"
"Yeah." Sophia let out an aggravated sigh. "His goons came in hot and heavy, and Claire and me had to do some pretty fancy footwork to get away from them. Had to use a couple of shadowblades too, but I was careful to make sure nobody saw. Then security got in on the act, because when a black teenager's involved in an act of violence, I've automatically got to be in the wrong, yeah?"
"She's right," agreed Claire. "She had to pull the fire alarm to cause enough confusion to get away. But it looks like Jay's people spotted us getting into the car."
"Give me a description of this 'Jay' person." Mr Marchant sounded intent. "He sounds like someone who has no business being in Brockton Bay." The phrase 'or breathing at all' hung in the air, unspoken but not unheard.
"Late teens," Sophia reported. "Blond hair. I remember he had freckles on the Boardwalk, but I didn't see them in the mall. Looked like he'd been airbrushed."
There was a long silence before Mr Marchant spoke again. "The Jewel of Boston. Damnation and hellfire. When Accord said there was trouble coming my way, I didn't think it would go this far."
"The Jewel of Boston?" Claire frowned. "I've heard that name once or twice. He's the one who turns into your ideal person, yeah?"
"Miss Marchant, the car is getting much closer." Jonas sounded remarkably unperturbed. "Do you wish to evade or go on the offensive?"
Claire shared a glance with Sophia, and nodded at what she saw there. "Offensive. I've had it with people trying this shit on me."
Sophia expected Marquis to try to talk them out of it, but he did no such thing. "Try to keep one alive for questioning."
"No promises. Sophia, strap in."
While Sophia was pretty sure she could survive a car crash with her newfound powers, the combination of the phrase 'offensive driving' and the sight of Claire putting on her own seatbelt made up her mind. Reaching for her own belt, Sophia fastened it around her. "Okay, ready to roll. How are we gonna do this?"
"Plan A is that Jonas lets them get alongside and forces a crash." Claire glanced out the rear window again, then nodded. "Ready."
"Right you are, Miss Marchant." The car accelerated abruptly, then swerved with a screeching of tyres and dived down a side-street.
Holding onto her grab-handle, Sophia looked out the back window and saw not one but two cars following. "Uh, Claire …"
"I see them. Jonas, we're going to need to scrape one of these guys off our tail before we can put any capture plans into effect." Claire sounded entirely matter of fact about the whole situation.
"Affirmative, Miss Marchant." Jonas drifted the limo around another corner. "Drawing one in … now."
Easing to the right, he artfully clipped a trashcan; the car swerved a little, losing speed as it did so. This presented an opportunity to the cars behind, and one of them took the bait. Engine roaring, it started to come up alongside. Sophia saw the man in the passenger seat raising what might've been a pistol with a silencer attached. "Gun!"
"I see it, Miss Sophia. Hold on." Even as he replied, Jonas hauled the wheel over with brutal suddenness, forcing the car to swerve into its pursuer and driving the latter sideways with a squeal of tortured rubber. There was a shattering crash and a scrape of metal; Sophia was jolted against her restraints, then the car that had been beside them was vanishing into the distance, crumpled up against a telephone pole.
"One down, one to go. Nicely done, Jonas." Claire had morphed into Marchioness again.
"Thank you, Miss Marchant. Their comrades won't be so easy to bait. Are we going with Plan A again, or Plan B?"
A bullet ricocheted off some part of the car with a distinct ptang; Sophia instinctively ducked. "Holy shit, they're shooting at us!"
"Huh. They're pissed that Jonas made their buddies crash. Who knew." Claire may have been discussing the latest TV show, for all the worry she exhibited. "Car's bullet-resistant. Polycarbonate windows, titanium outer shell." As she spoke, another bullet smacked into the rear window, causing a small amount of starring. "See?"
"Yes, Miss Marchant, but it can't take that sort of abuse forever." The big South African glanced into the rearview mirror. "Plan of action?"
"Plan C, I think." Claire glanced at Sophia. "Follow my lead, and be ready to kick ass when I say so. Remember, we want at least one of them alive."
Sophia had no idea what was going on, but she trusted Claire. "Uh, right, okay."
In the Pursuing Car
Brett gritted his teeth and swerved around an errant trash can, then shoved the accelerator a little bit more toward the floor. "For fuck's sake, shoot straighter!"
"You try shooting straight when some idiot can't even drive straight!" Paulie, hanging half out of the passenger side window, snarled the words even as he took a fresh two-handed grip on his pistol. Brett heard the BLAM BLAM BLAM as Paulie fired three more shots at the Marchant car, knowing full well that it probably wasn't going to work but determined to do his best anyway.
The day had started going to shit when that little bitch clocked Jay in the face with his own skateboard, and things hadn't improved since. Détente wasn't as murderous toward his minions as Accord was rumoured to be, but he still wasn't overly forgiving toward anyone who screwed up as badly as they had. The only chance they had of not being severely disciplined for letting Jay lose teeth like that was to grab the Marchant girl and her friend, no matter what it took.
And then the car up ahead swerved and started to lose speed. "Holy shit, you got him!" Was the day starting to turn around for them? It surely looked like it.
He stayed back as their prey slowed even further, apparently rolling to a halt. The temptation to come up alongside was strong, but he'd seen what that fucking chauffeur had done to Rod and the guys in the other car. If this was a fake-out, he wanted to be ready to react, not get caught on the back foot.
The car kept reducing speed, and he was pretty sure he saw the chauffeur slumped over the wheel. When the engine stalled out and the car jolted to a halt, his doubts finally receded. "Okay!" he yelled. "Let's do this!"
Pulling up behind the other car, he yanked on the handbrake, but left it running. Even if Marchant didn't have any other security looking for his daughter, they were going to have to get the fuck out of there as soon as they had they girls. He opened his door and jumped out, as Paulie did the same. From the back seat, Shaun did the same.
It was unlikely that they'd need all three of them to handle two teenagers, but better safe than sorry. After all, Détente had put nine of them, in three cars, on to watching Jay. The three in the second car were gonna have to help themselves out of the wreck, at least until the Marchant girl and her violent friend were under wraps.
At least this part of the plan was working.
Paulie Sterling, Mook
Running up alongside the stalled car, Paulie yanked at the rear passenger-side door and was both surprised and pleased that it opened. Smashing the window to get in was always an option, but that was time-consuming and risky. Inside, the black girl was halfway through the window into the front of the car, while the Marchant girl cowered against the door and screamed.
He wasn't sure if the black chick intended to commandeer the car or was just trying to hide, but he grabbed her by the ankle and hauled her back into the rear of the limo while she shrieked and struggled. At about the same time, Brett opened the door next to the Marchant girl so she more or less fell out into his arms. Brett yelled at Shaun to check on the driver; Shaun opened the door and fired a shot into him, then closed the door again.
Well, that was one way of checking on him.
Dragging the girls to their own car, struggling and fighting as they were, wasn't as hard as he'd feared. Shaun returned to the car first, and got into the back so they could shove the little bitches in there without worrying about them just going out the other door. With both of them in there, Brett shoved his way in after them, cramping them both into the middle, and Paulie slammed the door.
Holy shit. We did it, we did it. Glee bubbled up in Paulie's throat as he clambered into the front seat, but he didn't want to actually laugh out loud so he throttled the emotion back. Yanking the door shut and putting on his seat belt gave him the chance to regain a little self-control, so by the time they pulled out onto the road again, he was no longer grinning all over his face.
"Okay, here's the rules." Brett was speaking firmly but not harshly, so the girls would hopefully listen. "You do anything stupid, you get hurt. You do what we say, you'll be fine."
"Okay, yeah." That was probably the Marchant kid. "So, what do you want with us? Ransom? Because that's never worked out for anyone who tried it on us before."
"It's working pretty well so far," Shaun sneered. "Now shut the fuck up before I make you shut up."
The kid ignored him. "If it's ransom you want, why don't you let my friend go? Her family isn't exactly loaded."
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen." Shaun sounded pissed off that she was still talking. "She's seen our faces."
The temperature inside the car seemed to drop several degrees. Fuck. Paulie wished he was in the back seat, so he could dope-slap Shaun into next week.
"And once Dad's paid this hypothetical ransom …" the girl observed quietly, "… we'll still have seen your faces."
Paulie thought fast. "Yeah, but then we'll have the cash, so we'll be able to skip town instead of hanging around, waiting to be caught."
"Kidnapping is a Federal crime." The little bitch just wouldn't shut up. "They won't stop chasing you, just because you crossed state lines. And that's not even counting Dad. Whatever you extort out of him, he won't blink at spending ten times that to come after you if you harm one hair on my head, or hers."
"What she's saying," the black one added, "is that if you give up right now and tell us who you're working for an' where to find him, we'll give you time to get out of town. Otherwise, I can't answer for the shit that'll come down on you assholes for this."
She sounded so confident that Paulie wavered for half a second. Pissing off the rich and powerful, especially the ones who were adept at wielding their money as a weapon, was never a bright idea. But we've still got leverage, he reminded himself. We've got the kid.
They were going to let the Marchant girl go eventually, once the Jewel had had his chance to get his hooks into her. The black girl was going to have to disappear, of course; the last thing they needed was a witness to the whole thing. But for the moment, she was useful as a lever to keep the Marchant girl compliant.
There was a sharp smack and the black girl cried out. "I told you to shut the fuck up with that shit." Shaun sounded more than a little jittery.
"I don't like you." The Marchant girl said it like she was discussing ice cream flavours. "I don't like you at all."
Shaun sneered audibly. "Yeah, well. Not our problem, girlie."
The traffic light up ahead turned red. Paulie slowed the car to a stop. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwelcome police attention. He could probably have just driven through—there wasn't any other traffic in any direction—but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially after the egregious fuckup in the mall.
When the Marchant girl spoke next, her voice was lower, with an undertone of pure menace and a hint of a growl. "Oh, it really, really is."
Paulie fully expected either Brett or Shaun to give her a smack upside the head as a reminder to keep her mouth shut, but that didn't happen. Instead, both men screamed in what sounded like surprise and fear.
"The fuck?"
"Holy shiiii—!"
Brett got his door half-open before he grunted and fell out. Reacting way too late, Paulie pulled his pistol and twisted around in his seat, but the angle was bad. Before he could figure out how to fix it, something like a cross between one of those acid-blooded movie aliens and a jungle cat came forward through the gap in the seats.
One clawed hand grabbed his pistol and twisted it from his grip, while the other wrapped around his throat. It had eyes, but they didn't look remotely like human eyes. Nor was there the slightest hint of mercy in them.
Suddenly, its face was just inches from his. "One more time," it hissed. "Your boss. Who and where?"
Paulie considered himself a hard man, a tough nut to crack. He'd endured old-school police interrogations, the type where the phone books came out, and said not a word. But as his bladder cut loose and emptied its contents all over the driver's seat of his car, he broke.
Fuck Détente. I want to live.
Marchioness
"Well, that was interesting." Claire glanced over at Sophia as they strolled back along the road. "Dad will know more about Détente than I do, but we've definitely got enough to go on with."
"Yeah." Sophia didn't look or sound as though she were certain about her agreement.
"You okay?" Claire tilted her head. "None of them got you with anything, did they?"
She knew the answer to that already, because Sophia was well within her passive-reading range. She wasn't quite close enough to tap into the other girl's mental processes, but she was pretty sure that was where the problem resided. However, she knew it would be far better all 'round if Sophia said it of her own free will instead of having it winkled out of her.
"I'm fine." Sophia took a deep breath. "It's just … geez. I thought I was tough. And with these powers, I'm even better than I was before. But holy shit, you were strangling one guy with your tail while you were dealing with the other one in the driver's seat. I just had to use my shadow-blades on the one holding me. And then you made the driver piss himself, and then you fucked with their heads … you're fucking brutal, you know that?"
"Oh, I'm aware." Claire kept her tone light. "Dad has a policy of meeting force with equal force. I had a good idea what they had in mind for us, and it would've been bad enough for me, but you would've died the moment they knew they had me secured. Kidnapping just doesn't go well for the kidnappees."
Sophia nodded slowly. "What you were saying about how we've already seen their faces."
"Yeah." Claire took the time to give Sophia a side-hug. "You did perfectly, by the way. But you're right, though covering their faces doesn't always make it safe. Sometimes they kill the victims because it's easier, or because they feel like it, or just to make absolutely certain. Most good endings are because the kidnappees managed to escape."
"Wow, that sucks." Sophia returned the hug. "You made it easy to kick their asses. So, what happens now?"
Claire grinned and raised her hand to wave down the approaching limo. "Now, we go home and have that conversation with Dad about you joining our team, and exactly what we're going to do about Détente and his merry band of assholes."
"Kicking their asses would be my choice." Sophia reached out and opened the back door of the car as it rolled to a halt. "Hi, Jonas. You're looking very alive there, for someone who just got shot."
"Thank you, Miss Sophia." The burly South African smiled at her. "Subdermal armour is useful that way. Miss Marchant, I presume you managed to interrogate them without incident?"
"I totally did." Claire climbed into the car and scooted over to make room for Sophia. "Verified that it was Détente, and I got chapter and verse on how many people he's got working for him and where he's working out of."
"That will be very welcome news, second only to the fact that you and Sophia are still hale and hearty." Claire's father was still on the phone to Jonas, it seemed. "What did you do with them?"
Sophia snickered, and Claire elbowed her gently. "Well, I didn't want them running back to Détente with the news that his cover's totally blown, and disappearing them is also a prime way of spooking the hell out of him, so we kinda … let them go. After wiping the entire incident from their minds, and making them think they'd lost us."
"Ah, but if they think they've lost you, won't they be driving around in an attempt to reacquire you?" He sounded curious rather than concerned, probably because he knew Claire very well indeed. "There's always the chance, no matter how remote, that they'll come across you again."
"You'd think so." Claire loftily ignored Sophia's continued snickering. "However, I installed a perception filter in their minds. If they see this car again, they just won't recognise it. It'll be very much a case of 'these are not the droids you are looking for'. We could literally have a flashing neon sign on the roof and they'd still ignore us." Sophia's snickering became full-on laughter at this point, and Claire rolled her eyes. "Ignore her. She just loves the idea that they could be looking straight at us and not see the car for what it is."
"You must admit, it's a considerable improvement over the alternative. I shall await your return."
Détente Thug Car
Brett
"Any luck?" Brett slowed down as they neared a side-street. If the limo was lurking down there, he wanted to give the guys a chance to spot it. He grimaced as the smell of urine assaulted his nostrils once more. "And seriously, Paulie, why did you have to piss yourself like that?"
"I thought that truck was going to hit us for sure," Paulie whined. "I'd been wanting to take a leak, an' it just fuckin' happened."
On one level, Brett kind of understood how it could happen. They'd been chasing down the Marchant car, with Paulie giving him a break from driving, when a delivery truck had come hammering out of a side street and nearly given them all heart attacks. While they'd missed it by the grace of God and the thickness of a layer of paint, they'd also lost the Marchant bitch and her little friend.
In the aftermath, while they were still recovering from the shock, they'd discovered Paulie's 'accident'. There being no spare clothing to change into, Paulie was forced to sit in the passenger side of the back seat, while Brett had taken Paulie's coat to pad the seat under him. All four windows were open as a matter of course.
As much as Paulie wanted to go back and change, that wasn't going to happen until they located the Marchant car or proved to their own satisfaction that it was no longer in the area. And so they'd reported the loss of contact, and set to work quartering the streets in the general vicinity, just in case they could pull a rabbit out of a hat. The last thing Brett wanted was for Détente to think he was slacking off on the job.
A big car drove across the intersection in front of them, and for half a second he thought they'd hit the jackpot. But then he realised that it wasn't the one they were looking for. Well, fuck. From the soft mutters of disappointment in the car, the others had had the same thought.
"Okay," he said. "Let's keep looking."
Marquis
"And you are well? They didn't harm either of you?" Earl knew he was going over well-trodden ground but his natural parental concern, coupled with the Damsel incident, sparked the question anyway.
Claire grinned and rolled her eyes, setting his fears to rest. "Geez, Dad, hovering much? We're fine. Jonas is the only one who got shot, and his subdermals stopped it nicely. Sophia's a natural, by the way. Took down her guy and the one I was holding with my tail, and left me free to deal with the driver. For someone who's only had her powers for a few days, she's a total badass. And that's not even counting how she separated Jay from all his front teeth."
"Well, yes, I suppose so." Earl favoured Sophia with a smile. "I know I've already thanked you for your quick thinking and willingness to act, but we are deeply in your debt. I understand that you're interested in joining my organisation?"
She nodded. "Well, now I know that Claire's really Marchioness, I'm even more interested. It'll be a lot easier than trying to get to know a bunch of near-strangers from scratch, you know?"
"I'm aware. It was something I was counting on to make your transition easier, once you'd made your decision." He decided that the time for small talk was at an end. "Speaking of making decisions, what was it that raised your suspicions when it came to Claire and the Jewel of Boston? From all accounts, the young lout is exceedingly smooth with his targets."
"Wasn't really him." She looked pensive for a moment, perhaps revisiting bad memories. "His minders gave it away. They were watching her like a piece of meat. Once I saw that, I knew nothing good was going on. And when I tried to get her away from him, the way they were both acting just sealed the deal. So, skateboard."
He smiled briefly, considering exactly who he'd have to bribe to get his hands on the security footage of the incident in question. "Well done for that in particular. I'd never had any dealings with the Jewel before, so I was willing to let well enough alone. But I'd heard that he was rather unkind with his conquests, especially once he was done with them. More than one apparently committed suicide." The thought of the slimy little bastard getting his paws on Claire with the same intention made him want to perform extremely violent homicide.
"Fuck him." She looked up at Earl. "So, when you go after them, do I get to come with?"
He smiled; that was precisely what he'd wanted to hear. "Of course."
She'd need a costume first, but that was just a minor detail.
Détente
And everything was going so well, too.
He looked down at the young man who had been so instrumental in bringing many of his efforts to fruition. The Jewel of Boston's features, formerly a model of flawless perfection, were now definitively flawed. It appeared that a skateboard, swung two-handed with all the power an athletic teen could muster, had wreaked havoc with his lips and front teeth. The former were torn and swollen, and the latter had been shattered where they weren't snapped off at gum level.
While he was fully aware that the boy used powers to make himself irresistible to his chosen targets, there were limits to those powers, and he suspected the damage done by the ad hoc weapon would not be easily ignored. At the very least, there would need to be significant time spent healing the external injuries. And that wasn't counting the reconstruction costs for the young man's dentition.
The question was, would it be more viable to spring for the time and effort (and money) required to bring the Jewel back up to scratch, or should he just accept the loss and dispose of the boy? It would have to be all or nothing, considering the levels of vindictiveness he'd seen from the Jewel in the past. Cutting the boy loose and leaving him alive would be inviting a level of trouble that nobody needed.
"How did it happen?" he demanded of the three minders who'd come back with the Jewel while their comrades went after the Marchant girl. "How did she make him?"
"I don't know, sir." One of the minders, Hank by name, stepped forward. "She knew what she was doing from the start. I saw her go over to their table and say something. Whatever he said back was the wrong thing, I guess, because she just picked up his board and went postal on his ass."
"Do we have any idea who she is?" Fugitives fled straight to their homes more often than not, because the draw of the familiar outweighed caution. If they could get a line on her identity, they could perhaps cut her off at home.
"We didn't think it was necessary to find out." Hank grimaced. "I see that was a mistake, now. That kid was smart and vicious, someone it's a real good idea to keep an eye on."
"Well, get on it." Do I have to think of everything around here? "If she evades our people, it may become necessary to acquire a source of leverage to get her back. This girl would be perfect for the requirement." Not least because she'd already crossed him once, and he preferred his enemies dead or far away.
"Yes, sir. On it, sir."
He went back to pondering the problem of the Jewel of Boston. It was a real dilemma.
Marchioness
As they rode through the city in the back of the nondescript car, Claire turned to Sophia. "So, how's the costume?"
Holding up her gloved hand, Sophia flexed her fingers then pinched the sleeve of her other arm. It was dark and close-fitting, but flexible where it needed to be. She had a hood and a mask, all in greys and dark blues At night, she had no doubt, it would make her effectively invisible. "Still can't believe how fast you put it together. In my size, too."
Claire grinned, pleased at the reaction. "I can create basically anything organic, remember? It's made of a bio-polymer that I 'programmed' to shape itself into the right form. Kind of like what Dad does, but with more than just bone." She held up a finger. "But it's not bulletproof, or even knife-resistant. Tough, yes, but someone with a blade will still be able to cut it. So it's probably a good idea if I gave you the same subdermal protection that Dad and the rest of them have."
"Don't need it, remember?" Sophia went to shadow form then back to solid before she could start drifting out of the car. "Bullets can't touch me when I'm in shadow."
Claire's father cleared his throat from the front seat of the car. "You're not always in shadow form, and attackers don't always announce themselves."
Just as Sophia was opening her mouth to reply, Claire formed a sharp claw and jabbed her in the arm with it; not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely enough to sting. "Bang, you're dead."
"Ow! Hey!" Sophia recoiled and rubbed her arm. "Quit it!"
Claire raised her eyebrows, wondering if she'd have to do it again to get the message across. "Like Dad said, your powers won't protect you if you're not using them."
Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Okay, fine, you made your point. But sticking me like that when I wasn't looking was totally a dick move."
"I am not going to say that such things are exclusively the province of supervillains, because they are not." Claire's father paused for effect. "But it's safe to say that villains rarely make a habit of fighting fairly, or nicely. It's more or less what we're known for."
Claire chuckled as something funny occurred to her. "And I'm pretty sure Jay would have something to complain about, the way you clobbered him with his own board out of the blue like that."
Sophia blew a raspberry at her. "That was different. He totally had it coming. I didn't know what he was doing to you, but it wasn't good."
"Oh, I'm not arguing with that." Claire giggled and nudged Sophia with her elbow. "You were totally justified in every way. I'm just saying, you ambushed him the same way I ambushed you. So, did you want some subdermal protection?"
"Well …" Sophia trailed off doubtfully, looking at Jonas in the driver's seat.
Claire didn't need her powers to figure out where Sophia's thoughts were going. "Oh, you won't bulk out or anything. Jonas has the major enhancements. He can bench-press this car if he feels like it. Subdermal armour is basically a flexible carbon-fibre mesh with toughened plates here and there. It'll stop knives and pistol bullets from doing serious damage to your important parts."
"And rifle bullets?" Sophia sounded like she was asking more out of curiosity than worry.
"Meh, they'll penetrate but they won't do nearly as much damage." Claire shrugged. "If you're concerned about that, I can reinforce your organs as well. Make it a lot harder for internal damage to actually kill you."
"I can verify that," agreed her father from the front seat. "When Damsel of Distress attacked us, that reinforcement was possibly the only thing that kept us alive until my dear Claire was able to bring her powers to bear on the problem."
Sophia frowned. "You haven't actually told me all the details about that. Was she really that dangerous?"
"Yeah, she was." Claire flexed her fingers. "So, is that a yea or nay on the armour and the organ reinforcement?"
After a moment's hesitation, Sophia nodded. "Yeah, okay, sure. Hit me."
"You got it." Claire laid her hands on Sophia's arm and went to work. What Sophia didn't know (and never would, now) was that Claire had already laid the groundwork with a light mesh, mainly because she didn't like the idea of her friend being vulnerable to some asshole with a switchblade. Now she built on it, then started adding the plates and the organ reinforcement.
In some ways, Claire admitted to herself, this was an infraction against Sophia's agency regarding her own body. But when it came down to it, she didn't care. It was to Sophia's benefit, and it would not have caused her harm or ill effect if left alone. While Sophia still had some growing to do, the mesh was designed with a certain amount of stretch and flexibility in it.
I'd rather be sneaky and underhanded and protect my friend, than be upright and honest and lose her.
It only took about five minutes to get the protective measures in place, mainly because Claire had plenty of practice to fall back on. By the time she'd put the finishing touches on her work, the car was pulling up in a side-street. A similarly nondescript vehicle, containing the other capes in her father's organisation, rolled to a halt behind them.
The Mercia, she knew, would be keeping watch on her father's territory on the off-chance that this whole thing was some kind of long con. Anyone coming in with the intent of causing trouble would find out firsthand what kicking a hornets' nest was like. And since Brent's passing at the hands of Damsel of Distress, they were doubly determined to shut down anything of that nature before it ever got started.
Sophia Hess
If anyone had asked Sophia whether she was nervous as she got out of the car, she would've denied it strenuously … and she would have been lying her ass off. Her heart was racing, and it felt like every nerve ending was on high alert. As they convened between the cars, she tried to cover every angle at the same time, personally certain that Détente knew they were there and that an attack would come at any second.
Claire and her father had been in full cape mode the whole way over, so she'd had time to get used to that. But this was the first time she'd met the other capes that made up his organisation since the rescue. She'd had her powers then, sure, but now she was one of them. It was, she discovered, quite a shift in perspective.
"Hi." It was all she could manage. They'd known she was joining, of course, and she didn't see any obviously disapproving expressions, but she couldn't help but feel that they were silently judging her all the same.
Legionnaire was the first to step forward. "Hey, nice to see you again." He held out his hand, a broad smile on his face. "Good to see you're joining the best team in town, bar none. So, what are you gonna be calling yourself?"
Before she could answer, the other capes gathered around, adding their congratulations and slapping her on the back. Sophia was aware that Legionnaire and Palatina had once been members of the Empire Eighty-Eight, and thus presumably card-carrying racists. Either they were really good at acting, or they'd undergone a distinct attitude shift since taking up with Marquis. Whichever one it was, she knew damn well they weren't going to risk pissing off the boss (especially since she'd saved Marchioness' bacon) so she figured that if they could learn to accept her, she could do the same for them.
"Good to be here." She returned Legionnaire's smile, and shook his hand firmly. "You can call me Shadowblade."
The tall fit redhead called Beltane nodded judiciously. "Well now, that's a fine name an' no mistake." Her accent was indisputably Irish, though Sophia could not be certain she wasn't leaning into it just a little. "'Tis good to have ye on board, Shadowblade. Ye've done well already, an' I'm sure ye'll have many more opportunities to kick arse an' take names. Now then, Marchioness, where did ye say the little shite that tried to take ye from us would be hidin' out?"
Ignoring Legionnaire's muttered, 'who needs their names?', Marchioness raised her hand and pointed at a building across the street and down a ways. "That's where the guys we intercepted said Détente was setting up shop. They were adamant that Jay would be taken there first until Détente figured out what to do with him."
"Really?" asked Palatina. "Because from the way that sounds, if we wait just a little, Détente might just decide to put a bullet in the back of the Jewel's head. One problem, out of the way forever."
Marchioness nodded. "That's the impression I got, too. Not that these guys were actively thinking it. More like, it was a possibility they were subconsciously aware of, but hadn't thought all the way through yet. But once I peeled a few layers off the onion, that's what I got."
"The downside to him doing that," Sophia said before anyone else could throw in their own two cents, "is that if they do that, they'll be packing everything up and moving to a different location. Détente's apparently got his little quirks like that."
"I suppose it has to be better than Accord wantin' to murder everyone who disturbs his precious little routines," mused Beltane. It sounded like she had experience with the man; Sophia wanted to ask for more details, but knew it wasn't the time. "Well, then, Marquis. 'Tis your show."
Marquis looked up just as the first street-light came on. The sun had been lowering into the west all this time, and was now beginning to drop behind the buildings. Soon, there would be shadows aplenty for Sophia to blend into.
"Legionnaire, recon," he ordered. "Palatina, go high. Beltane, Marchioness, assault the upper floors. Shadowblade and I will go in through the front door." As he spoke, he grew the bone armour everyone had seen him in on countless news stories.
Marchioness, likewise, was changing into something entirely inhuman, shedding the evening dress like a snake's skin. A moment later, her skin shimmered and she became almost totally invisible. This didn't make the hairs on the back of Sophia's neck stand up any less as she looked at the blur in the air.
Sophia grabbed the dress and tossed it into the back seat of the car before joining the rest of Marquis' crew as they headed across the street. Her heart rate, which had eased off a little, sped up again as she assimilated the fact that she was about to head into her very first cape brawl.
She couldn't wait.
Far From Brockton Bay
A Man Once Called Jacob
"Well, that was annoying." Doing his best to ignore his poppet as she cleaned and stitched the bullet-hole in his left bicep, Jack Slash cleaned his knives one at a time before putting them away again. Once he was done with that, he returned his attention to her. "You assured me that the armour you implanted in me was bulletproof."
"I'll do better next time, Mr Jack," she promised him earnestly. "But it was Mannequin who told me it was bullet, uh, proof?"
Mannequin made a series of signs with his hands, which Jack interpreted as 'bullet resistant is not the same as bulletproof'. Then he went back to repairing his head. As it contained nothing vital to his life processes, taking a bullet through it hadn't overly bothered him.
"Who the hell knew that little podunk sheriff's office had a fifty-cal rifle, or a deputy who could shoot it?" Hatchet Face looked pissed off, mainly because he'd been shot in the groin. It hadn't broken the skin, but a kick in the balls was still a kick in the balls.
Jack examined the seared wound across his chest that had wrecked his dress shirt and come damn close to punching clear through his heart. If Chuckles hadn't jumped into the way of the shot at the last second and diverted it with his skull, the deputy would've gotten his wish. As it was, the Siberian had reached him just after he blew Chuckles' head apart, and torn him into several very messy pieces. Which Crawler had then eaten, along with the rifle.
"Alas, poor Chuckles, we knew him, Horatio." Jack kept talking while Bonesaw began stitching the wound across his chest. "He's going to need a replacement. Which means recruiting."
The rest of the Nine cheered up considerably. Shatterbird and Winter hadn't been nearby when Jack and the others encountered the ambitious sheriff's deputy, or the fight might have been even shorter, but recruitment was always fun. It was amazing just how far people would go to convince the Nine it was worth taking them on.
"So, the only question left to answer," he mused, "is where we go to find our recruits? Philadelphia or Brockton Bay?" He'd heard good things about the parahuman asylum in Philly; on the other hand, the news was beginning to spread about how Marquis had returned to his old haunts, and Jack considered it was high time for a rematch.
"Brockton Bay?" piped up Bonesaw. "What's there?"
Jack smiled, his mind made up. "An old friend, poppet. Or rather, an old enemy I haven't killed yet."
"Okay."
End of Part Thirty-Four
Part Thirty-Four: Revelations
[A/N: This chapter commissioned by @GW_Yoda and beta-read by Lady Columbine of Mystal.]
[A/N 2: Apologies for the delay. Had stuff to do last month, and so some of my commissions spilled over into this month.]
Sophia Hess (Cape name pending)
"What. The fuck."
Marchioness (who was really Claire, and wasn't that a fucking head-spin) grinned at her as the car moved off smoothly. "Well, from your reaction, it seems my secret identity is safe from the casual observer. If I didn't say it already, thanks for the save."
Her reflexive response took over. "Sure, no problem …" She paused, because she had zero experience in dealing with things like the revelation in front of her. "You're Marchioness. You're Marchioness." If she kept saying it, maybe it would start to make some kind of sense?
"And I'm also Claire Marchant." Claire morphed back into herself, a process that involved her hair retracting into her head, then extruding again as the frizzy auburn mop that Sophia was used to. Then she glanced out the rear window of the car. "Huh. Does it seem to you that we're being followed?"
"It does indeed, Miss Marchant." Jonas, who Sophia hadn't even realised was driving the car up to that point, glanced at the rear-vision mirror. "Your text was short on detail, but it got your father's attention. What's going on, and why are you being followed?"
"Sophia saw that something was wrong before I did." Claire nudged her. "Tell him everything you saw."
Sophia glanced out the back window herself, but there were half a dozen cars there, and she had no idea which one was supposed to be following them. "Um, I was in the mall and I saw Claire talking to that kid we met on the Boardwalk. Jay, I think his name was."
"I recall you speaking about him." Mr Marchant's voice emanated from the car's speakers. "Continue."
Belatedly realising that she was talking to Claire's father—shit, if she's Marchioness, then he has to be Marquis!—Sophia cleared her throat nervously. "Yeah, uh, she was sitting in the food court and he was talking to her, but there was something off about it. He was doing all the talking and leaning really close and holding her hand, and she was just sitting there. Like she was hypnotised or something. The look in his eyes was totally creepy. Oh, and he had a couple of minders. Big bruiser types, standing back in the crowd, watching the two of them."
"Interesting. He's a cape, then?"
"I guess." Sophia paused to gather her thoughts. "So yeah, I went over and asked Claire if she could come talk to me real quick, and he told me to get lost, then she said she was gonna stay right there with him. So, I grabbed his skateboard and smacked him in the mouth with it."
"So that's what you did!" Claire had a look of enlightenment on her face. "Dad, until she did that, it was like I was wrapped in cotton wool. I knew there was a world around me, and that he was a cape, but nothing mattered except listening to him. Then Sophia broke the spell, and his teeth too, and shit went sideways real fast."
"Well done, young lady. I suppose this is why you were obliged to flee the building?"
"Yeah." Sophia let out an aggravated sigh. "His goons came in hot and heavy, and Claire and me had to do some pretty fancy footwork to get away from them. Had to use a couple of shadowblades too, but I was careful to make sure nobody saw. Then security got in on the act, because when a black teenager's involved in an act of violence, I've automatically got to be in the wrong, yeah?"
"She's right," agreed Claire. "She had to pull the fire alarm to cause enough confusion to get away. But it looks like Jay's people spotted us getting into the car."
"Give me a description of this 'Jay' person." Mr Marchant sounded intent. "He sounds like someone who has no business being in Brockton Bay." The phrase 'or breathing at all' hung in the air, unspoken but not unheard.
"Late teens," Sophia reported. "Blond hair. I remember he had freckles on the Boardwalk, but I didn't see them in the mall. Looked like he'd been airbrushed."
There was a long silence before Mr Marchant spoke again. "The Jewel of Boston. Damnation and hellfire. When Accord said there was trouble coming my way, I didn't think it would go this far."
"The Jewel of Boston?" Claire frowned. "I've heard that name once or twice. He's the one who turns into your ideal person, yeah?"
"Miss Marchant, the car is getting much closer." Jonas sounded remarkably unperturbed. "Do you wish to evade or go on the offensive?"
Claire shared a glance with Sophia, and nodded at what she saw there. "Offensive. I've had it with people trying this shit on me."
Sophia expected Marquis to try to talk them out of it, but he did no such thing. "Try to keep one alive for questioning."
"No promises. Sophia, strap in."
While Sophia was pretty sure she could survive a car crash with her newfound powers, the combination of the phrase 'offensive driving' and the sight of Claire putting on her own seatbelt made up her mind. Reaching for her own belt, Sophia fastened it around her. "Okay, ready to roll. How are we gonna do this?"
"Plan A is that Jonas lets them get alongside and forces a crash." Claire glanced out the rear window again, then nodded. "Ready."
"Right you are, Miss Marchant." The car accelerated abruptly, then swerved with a screeching of tyres and dived down a side-street.
Holding onto her grab-handle, Sophia looked out the back window and saw not one but two cars following. "Uh, Claire …"
"I see them. Jonas, we're going to need to scrape one of these guys off our tail before we can put any capture plans into effect." Claire sounded entirely matter of fact about the whole situation.
"Affirmative, Miss Marchant." Jonas drifted the limo around another corner. "Drawing one in … now."
Easing to the right, he artfully clipped a trashcan; the car swerved a little, losing speed as it did so. This presented an opportunity to the cars behind, and one of them took the bait. Engine roaring, it started to come up alongside. Sophia saw the man in the passenger seat raising what might've been a pistol with a silencer attached. "Gun!"
"I see it, Miss Sophia. Hold on." Even as he replied, Jonas hauled the wheel over with brutal suddenness, forcing the car to swerve into its pursuer and driving the latter sideways with a squeal of tortured rubber. There was a shattering crash and a scrape of metal; Sophia was jolted against her restraints, then the car that had been beside them was vanishing into the distance, crumpled up against a telephone pole.
"One down, one to go. Nicely done, Jonas." Claire had morphed into Marchioness again.
"Thank you, Miss Marchant. Their comrades won't be so easy to bait. Are we going with Plan A again, or Plan B?"
A bullet ricocheted off some part of the car with a distinct ptang; Sophia instinctively ducked. "Holy shit, they're shooting at us!"
"Huh. They're pissed that Jonas made their buddies crash. Who knew." Claire may have been discussing the latest TV show, for all the worry she exhibited. "Car's bullet-resistant. Polycarbonate windows, titanium outer shell." As she spoke, another bullet smacked into the rear window, causing a small amount of starring. "See?"
"Yes, Miss Marchant, but it can't take that sort of abuse forever." The big South African glanced into the rearview mirror. "Plan of action?"
"Plan C, I think." Claire glanced at Sophia. "Follow my lead, and be ready to kick ass when I say so. Remember, we want at least one of them alive."
Sophia had no idea what was going on, but she trusted Claire. "Uh, right, okay."
<><>
In the Pursuing Car
Brett gritted his teeth and swerved around an errant trash can, then shoved the accelerator a little bit more toward the floor. "For fuck's sake, shoot straighter!"
"You try shooting straight when some idiot can't even drive straight!" Paulie, hanging half out of the passenger side window, snarled the words even as he took a fresh two-handed grip on his pistol. Brett heard the BLAM BLAM BLAM as Paulie fired three more shots at the Marchant car, knowing full well that it probably wasn't going to work but determined to do his best anyway.
The day had started going to shit when that little bitch clocked Jay in the face with his own skateboard, and things hadn't improved since. Détente wasn't as murderous toward his minions as Accord was rumoured to be, but he still wasn't overly forgiving toward anyone who screwed up as badly as they had. The only chance they had of not being severely disciplined for letting Jay lose teeth like that was to grab the Marchant girl and her friend, no matter what it took.
And then the car up ahead swerved and started to lose speed. "Holy shit, you got him!" Was the day starting to turn around for them? It surely looked like it.
He stayed back as their prey slowed even further, apparently rolling to a halt. The temptation to come up alongside was strong, but he'd seen what that fucking chauffeur had done to Rod and the guys in the other car. If this was a fake-out, he wanted to be ready to react, not get caught on the back foot.
The car kept reducing speed, and he was pretty sure he saw the chauffeur slumped over the wheel. When the engine stalled out and the car jolted to a halt, his doubts finally receded. "Okay!" he yelled. "Let's do this!"
Pulling up behind the other car, he yanked on the handbrake, but left it running. Even if Marchant didn't have any other security looking for his daughter, they were going to have to get the fuck out of there as soon as they had they girls. He opened his door and jumped out, as Paulie did the same. From the back seat, Shaun did the same.
It was unlikely that they'd need all three of them to handle two teenagers, but better safe than sorry. After all, Détente had put nine of them, in three cars, on to watching Jay. The three in the second car were gonna have to help themselves out of the wreck, at least until the Marchant girl and her violent friend were under wraps.
At least this part of the plan was working.
<><>
Paulie Sterling, Mook
Running up alongside the stalled car, Paulie yanked at the rear passenger-side door and was both surprised and pleased that it opened. Smashing the window to get in was always an option, but that was time-consuming and risky. Inside, the black girl was halfway through the window into the front of the car, while the Marchant girl cowered against the door and screamed.
He wasn't sure if the black chick intended to commandeer the car or was just trying to hide, but he grabbed her by the ankle and hauled her back into the rear of the limo while she shrieked and struggled. At about the same time, Brett opened the door next to the Marchant girl so she more or less fell out into his arms. Brett yelled at Shaun to check on the driver; Shaun opened the door and fired a shot into him, then closed the door again.
Well, that was one way of checking on him.
Dragging the girls to their own car, struggling and fighting as they were, wasn't as hard as he'd feared. Shaun returned to the car first, and got into the back so they could shove the little bitches in there without worrying about them just going out the other door. With both of them in there, Brett shoved his way in after them, cramping them both into the middle, and Paulie slammed the door.
Holy shit. We did it, we did it. Glee bubbled up in Paulie's throat as he clambered into the front seat, but he didn't want to actually laugh out loud so he throttled the emotion back. Yanking the door shut and putting on his seat belt gave him the chance to regain a little self-control, so by the time they pulled out onto the road again, he was no longer grinning all over his face.
"Okay, here's the rules." Brett was speaking firmly but not harshly, so the girls would hopefully listen. "You do anything stupid, you get hurt. You do what we say, you'll be fine."
"Okay, yeah." That was probably the Marchant kid. "So, what do you want with us? Ransom? Because that's never worked out for anyone who tried it on us before."
"It's working pretty well so far," Shaun sneered. "Now shut the fuck up before I make you shut up."
The kid ignored him. "If it's ransom you want, why don't you let my friend go? Her family isn't exactly loaded."
"Yeah, like that's gonna happen." Shaun sounded pissed off that she was still talking. "She's seen our faces."
The temperature inside the car seemed to drop several degrees. Fuck. Paulie wished he was in the back seat, so he could dope-slap Shaun into next week.
"And once Dad's paid this hypothetical ransom …" the girl observed quietly, "… we'll still have seen your faces."
Paulie thought fast. "Yeah, but then we'll have the cash, so we'll be able to skip town instead of hanging around, waiting to be caught."
"Kidnapping is a Federal crime." The little bitch just wouldn't shut up. "They won't stop chasing you, just because you crossed state lines. And that's not even counting Dad. Whatever you extort out of him, he won't blink at spending ten times that to come after you if you harm one hair on my head, or hers."
"What she's saying," the black one added, "is that if you give up right now and tell us who you're working for an' where to find him, we'll give you time to get out of town. Otherwise, I can't answer for the shit that'll come down on you assholes for this."
She sounded so confident that Paulie wavered for half a second. Pissing off the rich and powerful, especially the ones who were adept at wielding their money as a weapon, was never a bright idea. But we've still got leverage, he reminded himself. We've got the kid.
They were going to let the Marchant girl go eventually, once the Jewel had had his chance to get his hooks into her. The black girl was going to have to disappear, of course; the last thing they needed was a witness to the whole thing. But for the moment, she was useful as a lever to keep the Marchant girl compliant.
There was a sharp smack and the black girl cried out. "I told you to shut the fuck up with that shit." Shaun sounded more than a little jittery.
"I don't like you." The Marchant girl said it like she was discussing ice cream flavours. "I don't like you at all."
Shaun sneered audibly. "Yeah, well. Not our problem, girlie."
The traffic light up ahead turned red. Paulie slowed the car to a stop. The last thing he wanted was to draw unwelcome police attention. He could probably have just driven through—there wasn't any other traffic in any direction—but it was better to be safe than sorry, especially after the egregious fuckup in the mall.
When the Marchant girl spoke next, her voice was lower, with an undertone of pure menace and a hint of a growl. "Oh, it really, really is."
Paulie fully expected either Brett or Shaun to give her a smack upside the head as a reminder to keep her mouth shut, but that didn't happen. Instead, both men screamed in what sounded like surprise and fear.
"The fuck?"
"Holy shiiii—!"
Brett got his door half-open before he grunted and fell out. Reacting way too late, Paulie pulled his pistol and twisted around in his seat, but the angle was bad. Before he could figure out how to fix it, something like a cross between one of those acid-blooded movie aliens and a jungle cat came forward through the gap in the seats.
One clawed hand grabbed his pistol and twisted it from his grip, while the other wrapped around his throat. It had eyes, but they didn't look remotely like human eyes. Nor was there the slightest hint of mercy in them.
Suddenly, its face was just inches from his. "One more time," it hissed. "Your boss. Who and where?"
Paulie considered himself a hard man, a tough nut to crack. He'd endured old-school police interrogations, the type where the phone books came out, and said not a word. But as his bladder cut loose and emptied its contents all over the driver's seat of his car, he broke.
Fuck Détente. I want to live.
<><>
Marchioness
"Well, that was interesting." Claire glanced over at Sophia as they strolled back along the road. "Dad will know more about Détente than I do, but we've definitely got enough to go on with."
"Yeah." Sophia didn't look or sound as though she were certain about her agreement.
"You okay?" Claire tilted her head. "None of them got you with anything, did they?"
She knew the answer to that already, because Sophia was well within her passive-reading range. She wasn't quite close enough to tap into the other girl's mental processes, but she was pretty sure that was where the problem resided. However, she knew it would be far better all 'round if Sophia said it of her own free will instead of having it winkled out of her.
"I'm fine." Sophia took a deep breath. "It's just … geez. I thought I was tough. And with these powers, I'm even better than I was before. But holy shit, you were strangling one guy with your tail while you were dealing with the other one in the driver's seat. I just had to use my shadow-blades on the one holding me. And then you made the driver piss himself, and then you fucked with their heads … you're fucking brutal, you know that?"
"Oh, I'm aware." Claire kept her tone light. "Dad has a policy of meeting force with equal force. I had a good idea what they had in mind for us, and it would've been bad enough for me, but you would've died the moment they knew they had me secured. Kidnapping just doesn't go well for the kidnappees."
Sophia nodded slowly. "What you were saying about how we've already seen their faces."
"Yeah." Claire took the time to give Sophia a side-hug. "You did perfectly, by the way. But you're right, though covering their faces doesn't always make it safe. Sometimes they kill the victims because it's easier, or because they feel like it, or just to make absolutely certain. Most good endings are because the kidnappees managed to escape."
"Wow, that sucks." Sophia returned the hug. "You made it easy to kick their asses. So, what happens now?"
Claire grinned and raised her hand to wave down the approaching limo. "Now, we go home and have that conversation with Dad about you joining our team, and exactly what we're going to do about Détente and his merry band of assholes."
"Kicking their asses would be my choice." Sophia reached out and opened the back door of the car as it rolled to a halt. "Hi, Jonas. You're looking very alive there, for someone who just got shot."
"Thank you, Miss Sophia." The burly South African smiled at her. "Subdermal armour is useful that way. Miss Marchant, I presume you managed to interrogate them without incident?"
"I totally did." Claire climbed into the car and scooted over to make room for Sophia. "Verified that it was Détente, and I got chapter and verse on how many people he's got working for him and where he's working out of."
"That will be very welcome news, second only to the fact that you and Sophia are still hale and hearty." Claire's father was still on the phone to Jonas, it seemed. "What did you do with them?"
Sophia snickered, and Claire elbowed her gently. "Well, I didn't want them running back to Détente with the news that his cover's totally blown, and disappearing them is also a prime way of spooking the hell out of him, so we kinda … let them go. After wiping the entire incident from their minds, and making them think they'd lost us."
"Ah, but if they think they've lost you, won't they be driving around in an attempt to reacquire you?" He sounded curious rather than concerned, probably because he knew Claire very well indeed. "There's always the chance, no matter how remote, that they'll come across you again."
"You'd think so." Claire loftily ignored Sophia's continued snickering. "However, I installed a perception filter in their minds. If they see this car again, they just won't recognise it. It'll be very much a case of 'these are not the droids you are looking for'. We could literally have a flashing neon sign on the roof and they'd still ignore us." Sophia's snickering became full-on laughter at this point, and Claire rolled her eyes. "Ignore her. She just loves the idea that they could be looking straight at us and not see the car for what it is."
"You must admit, it's a considerable improvement over the alternative. I shall await your return."
<><>
Détente Thug Car
Brett
"Any luck?" Brett slowed down as they neared a side-street. If the limo was lurking down there, he wanted to give the guys a chance to spot it. He grimaced as the smell of urine assaulted his nostrils once more. "And seriously, Paulie, why did you have to piss yourself like that?"
"I thought that truck was going to hit us for sure," Paulie whined. "I'd been wanting to take a leak, an' it just fuckin' happened."
On one level, Brett kind of understood how it could happen. They'd been chasing down the Marchant car, with Paulie giving him a break from driving, when a delivery truck had come hammering out of a side street and nearly given them all heart attacks. While they'd missed it by the grace of God and the thickness of a layer of paint, they'd also lost the Marchant bitch and her little friend.
In the aftermath, while they were still recovering from the shock, they'd discovered Paulie's 'accident'. There being no spare clothing to change into, Paulie was forced to sit in the passenger side of the back seat, while Brett had taken Paulie's coat to pad the seat under him. All four windows were open as a matter of course.
As much as Paulie wanted to go back and change, that wasn't going to happen until they located the Marchant car or proved to their own satisfaction that it was no longer in the area. And so they'd reported the loss of contact, and set to work quartering the streets in the general vicinity, just in case they could pull a rabbit out of a hat. The last thing Brett wanted was for Détente to think he was slacking off on the job.
A big car drove across the intersection in front of them, and for half a second he thought they'd hit the jackpot. But then he realised that it wasn't the one they were looking for. Well, fuck. From the soft mutters of disappointment in the car, the others had had the same thought.
"Okay," he said. "Let's keep looking."
<><>
Marquis
"And you are well? They didn't harm either of you?" Earl knew he was going over well-trodden ground but his natural parental concern, coupled with the Damsel incident, sparked the question anyway.
Claire grinned and rolled her eyes, setting his fears to rest. "Geez, Dad, hovering much? We're fine. Jonas is the only one who got shot, and his subdermals stopped it nicely. Sophia's a natural, by the way. Took down her guy and the one I was holding with my tail, and left me free to deal with the driver. For someone who's only had her powers for a few days, she's a total badass. And that's not even counting how she separated Jay from all his front teeth."
"Well, yes, I suppose so." Earl favoured Sophia with a smile. "I know I've already thanked you for your quick thinking and willingness to act, but we are deeply in your debt. I understand that you're interested in joining my organisation?"
She nodded. "Well, now I know that Claire's really Marchioness, I'm even more interested. It'll be a lot easier than trying to get to know a bunch of near-strangers from scratch, you know?"
"I'm aware. It was something I was counting on to make your transition easier, once you'd made your decision." He decided that the time for small talk was at an end. "Speaking of making decisions, what was it that raised your suspicions when it came to Claire and the Jewel of Boston? From all accounts, the young lout is exceedingly smooth with his targets."
"Wasn't really him." She looked pensive for a moment, perhaps revisiting bad memories. "His minders gave it away. They were watching her like a piece of meat. Once I saw that, I knew nothing good was going on. And when I tried to get her away from him, the way they were both acting just sealed the deal. So, skateboard."
He smiled briefly, considering exactly who he'd have to bribe to get his hands on the security footage of the incident in question. "Well done for that in particular. I'd never had any dealings with the Jewel before, so I was willing to let well enough alone. But I'd heard that he was rather unkind with his conquests, especially once he was done with them. More than one apparently committed suicide." The thought of the slimy little bastard getting his paws on Claire with the same intention made him want to perform extremely violent homicide.
"Fuck him." She looked up at Earl. "So, when you go after them, do I get to come with?"
He smiled; that was precisely what he'd wanted to hear. "Of course."
She'd need a costume first, but that was just a minor detail.
<><>
Détente
And everything was going so well, too.
He looked down at the young man who had been so instrumental in bringing many of his efforts to fruition. The Jewel of Boston's features, formerly a model of flawless perfection, were now definitively flawed. It appeared that a skateboard, swung two-handed with all the power an athletic teen could muster, had wreaked havoc with his lips and front teeth. The former were torn and swollen, and the latter had been shattered where they weren't snapped off at gum level.
While he was fully aware that the boy used powers to make himself irresistible to his chosen targets, there were limits to those powers, and he suspected the damage done by the ad hoc weapon would not be easily ignored. At the very least, there would need to be significant time spent healing the external injuries. And that wasn't counting the reconstruction costs for the young man's dentition.
The question was, would it be more viable to spring for the time and effort (and money) required to bring the Jewel back up to scratch, or should he just accept the loss and dispose of the boy? It would have to be all or nothing, considering the levels of vindictiveness he'd seen from the Jewel in the past. Cutting the boy loose and leaving him alive would be inviting a level of trouble that nobody needed.
"How did it happen?" he demanded of the three minders who'd come back with the Jewel while their comrades went after the Marchant girl. "How did she make him?"
"I don't know, sir." One of the minders, Hank by name, stepped forward. "She knew what she was doing from the start. I saw her go over to their table and say something. Whatever he said back was the wrong thing, I guess, because she just picked up his board and went postal on his ass."
"Do we have any idea who she is?" Fugitives fled straight to their homes more often than not, because the draw of the familiar outweighed caution. If they could get a line on her identity, they could perhaps cut her off at home.
"We didn't think it was necessary to find out." Hank grimaced. "I see that was a mistake, now. That kid was smart and vicious, someone it's a real good idea to keep an eye on."
"Well, get on it." Do I have to think of everything around here? "If she evades our people, it may become necessary to acquire a source of leverage to get her back. This girl would be perfect for the requirement." Not least because she'd already crossed him once, and he preferred his enemies dead or far away.
"Yes, sir. On it, sir."
He went back to pondering the problem of the Jewel of Boston. It was a real dilemma.
<><>
Marchioness
As they rode through the city in the back of the nondescript car, Claire turned to Sophia. "So, how's the costume?"
Holding up her gloved hand, Sophia flexed her fingers then pinched the sleeve of her other arm. It was dark and close-fitting, but flexible where it needed to be. She had a hood and a mask, all in greys and dark blues At night, she had no doubt, it would make her effectively invisible. "Still can't believe how fast you put it together. In my size, too."
Claire grinned, pleased at the reaction. "I can create basically anything organic, remember? It's made of a bio-polymer that I 'programmed' to shape itself into the right form. Kind of like what Dad does, but with more than just bone." She held up a finger. "But it's not bulletproof, or even knife-resistant. Tough, yes, but someone with a blade will still be able to cut it. So it's probably a good idea if I gave you the same subdermal protection that Dad and the rest of them have."
"Don't need it, remember?" Sophia went to shadow form then back to solid before she could start drifting out of the car. "Bullets can't touch me when I'm in shadow."
Claire's father cleared his throat from the front seat of the car. "You're not always in shadow form, and attackers don't always announce themselves."
Just as Sophia was opening her mouth to reply, Claire formed a sharp claw and jabbed her in the arm with it; not hard enough to break the skin, but definitely enough to sting. "Bang, you're dead."
"Ow! Hey!" Sophia recoiled and rubbed her arm. "Quit it!"
Claire raised her eyebrows, wondering if she'd have to do it again to get the message across. "Like Dad said, your powers won't protect you if you're not using them."
Sophia wrinkled her nose. "Okay, fine, you made your point. But sticking me like that when I wasn't looking was totally a dick move."
"I am not going to say that such things are exclusively the province of supervillains, because they are not." Claire's father paused for effect. "But it's safe to say that villains rarely make a habit of fighting fairly, or nicely. It's more or less what we're known for."
Claire chuckled as something funny occurred to her. "And I'm pretty sure Jay would have something to complain about, the way you clobbered him with his own board out of the blue like that."
Sophia blew a raspberry at her. "That was different. He totally had it coming. I didn't know what he was doing to you, but it wasn't good."
"Oh, I'm not arguing with that." Claire giggled and nudged Sophia with her elbow. "You were totally justified in every way. I'm just saying, you ambushed him the same way I ambushed you. So, did you want some subdermal protection?"
"Well …" Sophia trailed off doubtfully, looking at Jonas in the driver's seat.
Claire didn't need her powers to figure out where Sophia's thoughts were going. "Oh, you won't bulk out or anything. Jonas has the major enhancements. He can bench-press this car if he feels like it. Subdermal armour is basically a flexible carbon-fibre mesh with toughened plates here and there. It'll stop knives and pistol bullets from doing serious damage to your important parts."
"And rifle bullets?" Sophia sounded like she was asking more out of curiosity than worry.
"Meh, they'll penetrate but they won't do nearly as much damage." Claire shrugged. "If you're concerned about that, I can reinforce your organs as well. Make it a lot harder for internal damage to actually kill you."
"I can verify that," agreed her father from the front seat. "When Damsel of Distress attacked us, that reinforcement was possibly the only thing that kept us alive until my dear Claire was able to bring her powers to bear on the problem."
Sophia frowned. "You haven't actually told me all the details about that. Was she really that dangerous?"
"Yeah, she was." Claire flexed her fingers. "So, is that a yea or nay on the armour and the organ reinforcement?"
After a moment's hesitation, Sophia nodded. "Yeah, okay, sure. Hit me."
"You got it." Claire laid her hands on Sophia's arm and went to work. What Sophia didn't know (and never would, now) was that Claire had already laid the groundwork with a light mesh, mainly because she didn't like the idea of her friend being vulnerable to some asshole with a switchblade. Now she built on it, then started adding the plates and the organ reinforcement.
In some ways, Claire admitted to herself, this was an infraction against Sophia's agency regarding her own body. But when it came down to it, she didn't care. It was to Sophia's benefit, and it would not have caused her harm or ill effect if left alone. While Sophia still had some growing to do, the mesh was designed with a certain amount of stretch and flexibility in it.
I'd rather be sneaky and underhanded and protect my friend, than be upright and honest and lose her.
It only took about five minutes to get the protective measures in place, mainly because Claire had plenty of practice to fall back on. By the time she'd put the finishing touches on her work, the car was pulling up in a side-street. A similarly nondescript vehicle, containing the other capes in her father's organisation, rolled to a halt behind them.
The Mercia, she knew, would be keeping watch on her father's territory on the off-chance that this whole thing was some kind of long con. Anyone coming in with the intent of causing trouble would find out firsthand what kicking a hornets' nest was like. And since Brent's passing at the hands of Damsel of Distress, they were doubly determined to shut down anything of that nature before it ever got started.
<><>
Sophia Hess
If anyone had asked Sophia whether she was nervous as she got out of the car, she would've denied it strenuously … and she would have been lying her ass off. Her heart was racing, and it felt like every nerve ending was on high alert. As they convened between the cars, she tried to cover every angle at the same time, personally certain that Détente knew they were there and that an attack would come at any second.
Claire and her father had been in full cape mode the whole way over, so she'd had time to get used to that. But this was the first time she'd met the other capes that made up his organisation since the rescue. She'd had her powers then, sure, but now she was one of them. It was, she discovered, quite a shift in perspective.
"Hi." It was all she could manage. They'd known she was joining, of course, and she didn't see any obviously disapproving expressions, but she couldn't help but feel that they were silently judging her all the same.
Legionnaire was the first to step forward. "Hey, nice to see you again." He held out his hand, a broad smile on his face. "Good to see you're joining the best team in town, bar none. So, what are you gonna be calling yourself?"
Before she could answer, the other capes gathered around, adding their congratulations and slapping her on the back. Sophia was aware that Legionnaire and Palatina had once been members of the Empire Eighty-Eight, and thus presumably card-carrying racists. Either they were really good at acting, or they'd undergone a distinct attitude shift since taking up with Marquis. Whichever one it was, she knew damn well they weren't going to risk pissing off the boss (especially since she'd saved Marchioness' bacon) so she figured that if they could learn to accept her, she could do the same for them.
"Good to be here." She returned Legionnaire's smile, and shook his hand firmly. "You can call me Shadowblade."
The tall fit redhead called Beltane nodded judiciously. "Well now, that's a fine name an' no mistake." Her accent was indisputably Irish, though Sophia could not be certain she wasn't leaning into it just a little. "'Tis good to have ye on board, Shadowblade. Ye've done well already, an' I'm sure ye'll have many more opportunities to kick arse an' take names. Now then, Marchioness, where did ye say the little shite that tried to take ye from us would be hidin' out?"
Ignoring Legionnaire's muttered, 'who needs their names?', Marchioness raised her hand and pointed at a building across the street and down a ways. "That's where the guys we intercepted said Détente was setting up shop. They were adamant that Jay would be taken there first until Détente figured out what to do with him."
"Really?" asked Palatina. "Because from the way that sounds, if we wait just a little, Détente might just decide to put a bullet in the back of the Jewel's head. One problem, out of the way forever."
Marchioness nodded. "That's the impression I got, too. Not that these guys were actively thinking it. More like, it was a possibility they were subconsciously aware of, but hadn't thought all the way through yet. But once I peeled a few layers off the onion, that's what I got."
"The downside to him doing that," Sophia said before anyone else could throw in their own two cents, "is that if they do that, they'll be packing everything up and moving to a different location. Détente's apparently got his little quirks like that."
"I suppose it has to be better than Accord wantin' to murder everyone who disturbs his precious little routines," mused Beltane. It sounded like she had experience with the man; Sophia wanted to ask for more details, but knew it wasn't the time. "Well, then, Marquis. 'Tis your show."
Marquis looked up just as the first street-light came on. The sun had been lowering into the west all this time, and was now beginning to drop behind the buildings. Soon, there would be shadows aplenty for Sophia to blend into.
"Legionnaire, recon," he ordered. "Palatina, go high. Beltane, Marchioness, assault the upper floors. Shadowblade and I will go in through the front door." As he spoke, he grew the bone armour everyone had seen him in on countless news stories.
Marchioness, likewise, was changing into something entirely inhuman, shedding the evening dress like a snake's skin. A moment later, her skin shimmered and she became almost totally invisible. This didn't make the hairs on the back of Sophia's neck stand up any less as she looked at the blur in the air.
Sophia grabbed the dress and tossed it into the back seat of the car before joining the rest of Marquis' crew as they headed across the street. Her heart rate, which had eased off a little, sped up again as she assimilated the fact that she was about to head into her very first cape brawl.
She couldn't wait.
<><>
Far From Brockton Bay
A Man Once Called Jacob
"Well, that was annoying." Doing his best to ignore his poppet as she cleaned and stitched the bullet-hole in his left bicep, Jack Slash cleaned his knives one at a time before putting them away again. Once he was done with that, he returned his attention to her. "You assured me that the armour you implanted in me was bulletproof."
"I'll do better next time, Mr Jack," she promised him earnestly. "But it was Mannequin who told me it was bullet, uh, proof?"
Mannequin made a series of signs with his hands, which Jack interpreted as 'bullet resistant is not the same as bulletproof'. Then he went back to repairing his head. As it contained nothing vital to his life processes, taking a bullet through it hadn't overly bothered him.
"Who the hell knew that little podunk sheriff's office had a fifty-cal rifle, or a deputy who could shoot it?" Hatchet Face looked pissed off, mainly because he'd been shot in the groin. It hadn't broken the skin, but a kick in the balls was still a kick in the balls.
Jack examined the seared wound across his chest that had wrecked his dress shirt and come damn close to punching clear through his heart. If Chuckles hadn't jumped into the way of the shot at the last second and diverted it with his skull, the deputy would've gotten his wish. As it was, the Siberian had reached him just after he blew Chuckles' head apart, and torn him into several very messy pieces. Which Crawler had then eaten, along with the rifle.
"Alas, poor Chuckles, we knew him, Horatio." Jack kept talking while Bonesaw began stitching the wound across his chest. "He's going to need a replacement. Which means recruiting."
The rest of the Nine cheered up considerably. Shatterbird and Winter hadn't been nearby when Jack and the others encountered the ambitious sheriff's deputy, or the fight might have been even shorter, but recruitment was always fun. It was amazing just how far people would go to convince the Nine it was worth taking them on.
"So, the only question left to answer," he mused, "is where we go to find our recruits? Philadelphia or Brockton Bay?" He'd heard good things about the parahuman asylum in Philly; on the other hand, the news was beginning to spread about how Marquis had returned to his old haunts, and Jack considered it was high time for a rematch.
"Brockton Bay?" piped up Bonesaw. "What's there?"
Jack smiled, his mind made up. "An old friend, poppet. Or rather, an old enemy I haven't killed yet."
"Okay."
End of Part Thirty-Four
