A small chapter to finish off the beginning and start the next part... ;)
Coming awake, the man listened carefully, feeling that something was wrong. Or at least different, which in this place was more or less synonymous. Thirty seconds or so slipped past without him hearing anything threatening.
Another few seconds, and he frowned slightly. It had taken a while, but he realized that he couldn't hear anything. None of the normal subliminal sounds were present. No noise of the ventilation working, none of the faint vibrations showing active machinery buried somewhere in the walls, no sounds to even indicate that he wasn't completely alone. Which was… very wrong. He shared this place with quite a few other people, after all, but for all he could sense he was utterly isolated.
Opening his eyes Marquis looked around without moving or indicating that he was conscious. His cell was dark as it was on the night cycle, which he was pretty sure bore no relationship to the actual time of day outside the Birdcage, as another method to confuse the residents of the facility. His own experiments using his heartbeat as a crude timer suggested that the day wasn't even set to twenty four hours, it was closer to twenty six, for some reason he'd never worked out.
The only light in his cell was coming from a small red LED on the camera mounted above the closed door, the faint glimmer just bright enough to let him see the unblinking gaze of the wide angle lens set behind an inch of some sort of ultra-hard Tinker version of glass, when he turned his head to scan the small room. The corners of the cell were completely dark, leaving him unable to penetrate the deep shadows at all.
Still, he could see nothing amiss, but he couldn't hear any signs of normal operation either, as barely perceptible as they usually were at night. Some of the other prisoners didn't sleep at all, and others slept little, so there was usually at least a small level of background noise coming from elsewhere. But now, there was no sound of people talking, or even breathing, not even the dripping of condensation from the slightly faulty air conditioning system in the corridor outside that hadn't yet been repaired by the automatic systems.
It was downright unsettling to be somewhere this quiet, and it was setting him on edge. Something was going on, something he didn't understand, and considering who he shared this place with, that was likely to be potentially very bad.
Slowly sitting up, he swung his legs to the floor while brushing his long hair back over his shoulders, then listened intently some more, straining to hear anything that might give a clue to what was happening and who was responsible.
He froze as the mattress depressed slightly, as if someone had sat down at the other end of the bed. Which was highly unlikely since the door was shut and locked by the system, the anti-Stranger alarms were silent, and he couldn't think of any other Parahuman in the Birdcage who could bypass both without it being fairly obvious. He was sufficiently paranoid to have checked very carefully when he first got here, and kept up to date on new arrivals.
Turning his head very slowly, he looked to the left.
The dim tally light on the camera was barely able to allow him to see someone he'd never thought he'd see again, and was more than a little disturbed to see now. Although, it did explain why there was no sound and how someone had got into his cell…
"Hello, Adrian," Mal Linwood said completely calmly as if she'd popped around for coffee. "It has been some time."
Despite himself, he swallowed a little, his throat drier than he liked, before replying as evenly and politely as he could, not even daring to contemplate using his powers, "Hello, Mal. Yes, it has. I'm sorry I can't offer you a drink but I find myself somewhat embarrassingly diminished from my previous circumstances."
She smiled a little, looking briefly amused, and he relaxed ever so little. Perhaps she wasn't here to end him?
"Yes, the accommodations are somewhat… spartan," she remarked, glancing around then looking back at him. "I appreciate the thought though."
He dipped his head to acknowledge her comment. "May I ask what prompted this visit?" he asked carefully. "I am… a little surprised to see you, as I was unaware that we had any reason to meet again. Especially in such a manner." Marquis was deliberately controlling his breathing to keep himself calm, just in case.
"There are no outstanding issues, no," Mal smiled. "This is more in the nature of a courtesy visit due to certain external circumstances." Standing, she moved to a position in front of him and snapped her fingers, a pale ball of misty blue light appearing near the ceiling and making him blink slightly in the suddenly increased illumination. It was still quite dim but he could now see her properly. As always, the sight was both impressive and more than a little terrifying. At least she was smiling, although he knew from experience that she was at times most dangerous when that happened…
"May I ask what those circumstances might be?" he inquired, wondering what she meant.
"Yes," she replied, looking down at him. "It is in regard to your daughter."
His heart nearly stopped for a moment. "Amelia?"
"Indeed." Mal studied him. "Ah. Yes, you do care for her well-being, I see. I am glad of this."
"She is my only daughter," he replied as calmly as he could. "I care for her well-being a great deal and regret that I can't personally see to it. But I made arrangements that I hoped would keep her safe and well, despite my… inconvenient problem."
Smiling a little again, she nodded. "So I gather. You might be interested to know that Amelia was placed with Brandish's family."
He raised an eyebrow, unable to help it. "I would have expected the Lady Photon's, in fact. She struck me as the more… flexible… sister."
"I would tend to agree with you, but that was ultimately not how they decided to arrange matters." Mal almost sighed, surprising him, since she actually looked momentarily regretful. "It is unfortunate, as it happens, since Brandish turned out not to be ideally suited for the responsibility. I suspect in part due to her antipathy to you personally, and in part due to her outlook on life which is rather more rigid than one might hope for. The latter is likely to cause her problems eventually."
Marquis thought that she almost looked amused again, and hid a shiver. He abruptly decided that despite what Brandish had helped cause to happen to him, he pitied her fate if Mal became sufficiently upset with whatever had happened.
"Is Amelia well?" he asked, not feeling it was wise to mention his thoughts, although he was sure she was well aware of them regardless.
"She has not enjoyed much of the last year but she is physically fine, never fear," Mal assured him. "Brandish was not a particularly good mother to her but she did not strike her. And the girl did become quite close to Brandish's biological daughter, which I imagine helped." She paused, then smiled a little. "However matters came to a head a few weeks ago when Amelia was sufficiently upset that she absconded from her new home, and managed to get herself thoroughly lost in a park some kilometers away from there overnight."
He clenched one hand, then deliberately relaxed it, while she watched. "But she is unharmed," he said.
"Yes. She was found by another girl of similar age, who offered her food, clothing, and friendship, then took her home. While Amelia did not enjoy the experience she has found a firm friend and benefited from the relationship considerably in the weeks since."
"I see," he said, nodding. "This other girl, she is known to you?"
"My granddaughter," Mal replied with a devious smile. He stared at her for several seconds, then sighed faintly.
"How… unexpected."
"It was rather unusual, but then such runs in the family," she agreed, now definitely amused, and if he was any judge, quite pleased. "One thing led to another and young Taylor decided that Amelia was unhappy, so she set about changing that. By admittedly somewhat unconventional means, but it appears to have had the desired effect."
They looked at each other for a moment.
"There's more to the story, I suspect," he commented when the silence became a little uncomfortable, although she looked like she was quite prepared to stand there the rest of the night watching him.
"Oh, far more, yes," she smiled. "However, the key aspect is that after consideration of the particulars of Amelia's circumstances, my daughter and her husband decided with a little suggestion from myself that it would be best all around if they took charge of the girl's upbringing. I feel they can do a much better job, give her a far more interesting and rewarding life, and relieve Brandish of a burden she clearly didn't want. Lady Photon and her siblings and families ultimately agreed with this proposal."
She waved a hand in a gesture of satisfaction while he sat there and tried not to let his mouth fall open. "I appear to have another granddaughter, in a sense, which is enjoyable. It will be quite the experience teaching her, although I will let my daughter and her husband do the bulk of that as I do after all have other responsibilities."
Turning and walking across the cell while he stared, trying to work out whether to laugh, cry, or both, she reached up and tapped the camera idly with one elegant finger, before turning back to him. "I felt it was only polite, in light of our past interaction and the knowledge that in a very distant way you could be considered related now, to inform you of this. Rest assured that Amelia will be loved and cherished, and protected from those that might wish her harm." She looked thoughtful for a second. "Which reminds me that I have a modicum of business with at least one of those parties, but that is hardly relevant at the moment."
"Ah…" He took a breath, then said, "Thank you for telling me. If I might ask a very small favor with no intent to cause offense, could you please pass on my best wishes to my daughter when you deem it appropriate?"
She sat down beside him again, looking at him with eyes that were much too knowing and far, far too old, seeming to look into the center of his being, then nodded once. "I will do that, Adrian. When the time is right, after she has some stability in her life and is capable of understanding the truth of the matter."
"Thank you," he said quietly.
Standing again, she studied him as he looked up at her. "We may meet again, but the future is never entirely certain," she remarked after a little while. "But I can say with some assurance that your daughter has great potential, which may be of comfort to you."
"It is," Marquis replied honestly.
"And it is not beyond the bounds of possibility that one day you may meet her yourself," she added with a smile, as she snapped her fingers again. The little ball of foxfire winked out, making him blink at the sudden lack of light. When his eyes became accustomed to the dark once more he looked around, seeing without surprise he was entirely alone again. The normal sounds of the Birdcage came back as if they'd never gone, and he was certain that the camera in his cell would have shown nothing of his unexpected visit.
After sitting there for a couple of minutes in deep thought, he finally lay down again and closed his eyes. He fell asleep to a sensation of mixed regret, satisfaction, and slight worry.
And the thought that Amelia was certainly as safe from Allfather's ire as anyone could possibly be.
"I think you've probably had enough," the barman said. "That's four shots in a row."
His customer grabbed his wrist as he reached for the bottle. "Leave it," the bearded man said, slightly slurring his words.
Shrugging, the barman let go and retrieved his arm. "Your funeral, mate. You want a mug to go with it or are you just going to keep doing shots?" he added sarcastically. "Or maybe you need a straw."
"Piss off," the older man said with a frown, making him chuckle then move down the bar to deal with a less annoying customer.
Pouring himself another small glass of the very potent spirits, Evan tossed it straight down his throat without hesitation, then swallowed. He put the glass back on the bar top with the carefully deliberate motion of someone who knew he was on the verge of being properly drunk and filled it once more.
"Mal Linwood," he muttered very quietly to himself under his breath, before swigging the next shot and picking up the bottle again. "Christ on a raft. Chicago is way too fucking close to Brockton Bay. Maybe I should move to Anchorage..."
"Not far enough," a voice from next to him said with amusement, causing him to jerk around and nearly fall off his stool.
"What?" he asked, looking suspiciously at the young woman he'd never seen before who was standing there. She was tall and slender, and wearing a leather jacket over jeans and a t-shirt with some sort of golden logo on it that he couldn't quite focus on.
She indicated his glass, and the bottle he was holding ready to pour. "You're not holding it far enough over the glass," she replied, causing him to look, then barely avoid spilling his drink. "Sorry. Bad habit of mine, giving people advice out of the blue."
"Thanks," he muttered, very carefully topping his shot off. Was that the sixth or the seventh? He'd lost count.
"No problem." He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye.
"Here you go, Miss," the barman said as he handed her some cash. "Your change."
"Great." She turned to leave. "See you around." Myrrdin glanced at her, then looked back at his glass, before doing a double take and turning back, only to see she'd already left.
'Did that woman have a tail?' he thought blurrily. 'Nah. Must have imagined it...' He tossed back the next shot, then tried to refill the glass again, without complete success.
"Poor bastards," he mumbled under his breath, while doing his best not to spill too much of his memory eraser. "Note to self, never go to Brockton Bay..."
He was pretty sure he'd manage to remember at least that much.
