The Broker

The Broker's Land

"It's done," Cerulea reported. "Smiles is dead."

I sighed. "Did you at least make a quick death?" I asked her. "His death was only necessary because of how deeply and easily it will affect Panacea."

"As per your instruction, I had to make it look as if he suffered his death at the hands of Leviathan. As such, I had to make it as naturally as possible for people to die in Endbringer fights. Because Smiles had foolishly opted to join the Search and Rescue operation rather than stay in the back, all I had to do was ensure that he would go look for people to rescue very close to Leviathan itself. In the process, I launched several debris at him just as Leviathan's wave crashed upon him, punching holes through his lungs and minor arteries."

"And since he is Manton Limited to himself, he couldn't heal himself at all, bleeding to death," I grunted. "Not exactly how I wanted one of my own to die, but I guess this was unavoidable."

Then Cerulea looked at me uncomfortably. "Father, I … can I ask why Smiles had to die?" she asked.

I looked at her for a second before nodding.

"Okay. Do you want the short version or the long version?"

"The long one. We have time in this place."

"Indeed, we do. Okay then, let's start with our purpose: why do we exist?"

"To stop Scion's eventual rampage."

"Yes, and how do we achieve that?"

"By making as many parahumans as possible."

"Yes. But what happens if I make too much, too fast?"

"You told me that Scion had a 38% chance of detecting the significant rise of parahuman population as an abnormality and go out to search the cause of the anomaly."

I nodded.

"Which means that if we are to fight him, then we either have to play the long game or drastically increase output of parahuman production without adversely affecting the society."

"But you already told me that we might have at most two or three years, father."

"Yes, and that is why the long game is unachievable. This only leaves one option."

"Make a lot of parahumans in very short time."

"Yes. Unfortunately, there is only so much I can do, and not all of the powers I hand out to people are great. In fact, most of the parahumans I've made so far are no more than cannon fodders," I said unhappily. "The required parahumans have yet to shown up or use their powers in front of me beyond a few."

"But what does this have to do with Panacea?" she asked.

"Panacea … as she is, she can be nothing more than the medic. Because her powers areinternalrather than external, there is no way for me make a copy of her power because there isn't even a physical phenomenon associated with her power usage."

"And?"

"To accomplish the second method of exterminating Scion, I need someone who can drastically upgrade parahumans as I make them."

"But she's a biokinetic, or so you've told me."

"Yes. A biokinetic who's been limiting herself. A biokinetic who has the potential to alter corona pollentia," I replied. "But what if someone were to approach her in her time of grief and told her that she could do more than what she did now? That if she truly wanted, she could bring Smiles back to life?"

"… You're talking about resurrection."

"Eh..." I muttered. "Resurrection is too heavy of a term. In the hypothetical situation that I'm going to make sure it happens, the correct name for the process would be imprint cloning."

Cerulea didn't say anything for a while. Then she seemed to get it.

"You want her to loosen up her morals and limitations."

"And my good daughter gets it," I replied with a smile as I took off my mask. "In essence, I intend to force her to second trigger."

Cerulea flinched. "But can't you harvest her shard like you said you could?" she asked. "You said that you copied Eidolon's power and one of the powers he had was the ability to harvest shards."

I shook my head. "He's able to harvest other shards for their energy, not the shard's function itself. Even if his shard could, I can't even access half of the shards that he has, and I can't copy any of them, because the effects are shown through Eidolon copy and not the shards themselves. There's no communication between my shard and the other shards that are being active through Eidolon copy." I sighed. "It's really frustrating, because my copy is actually dependent on his original."

"Huh. So you aren't omnipotent."

I glared at my adopted eldest daughter. "I can still kick your ass, young lady."

"… So what do you intend to do now?" she asked.

"Now?" I repeated as I stood up from my chair. "It's time I visit Amy."

-

Amy Dallon

The world felt colder already.

She was in the middle of operating when the call came in.

She almost stopped working right there and then, but she didn't. He wouldn't want that. So she persevered and finished the job. And the next. And the next. And the next.

As soon as all of the severe cases ran out, she too ran out of the medical tents. She came upon the rows of bodies of the dead capes.

And she found his.

She saw his body covered in the white cloth that all of the dead bodies were covered with.

At first, she didn't want to believe it, but then reality crashed in when the cape attending to the dead led her there and lifted the cloth just to reveal the blood splattered mask.

She stared.

She stared.

Someone tried to shake her away but she pushed them aside and fell to her knees.

Her chest constricted like one of Vicky's hugs, but it didn't feel good. Breathing came harder and shallower.

"Ah-" she uttered, not even realizing that she did. Her vision became blurrier and she felt tears rush down her cheeks from her eyes. "Ah-!"

Her hands reached out and grabbed at Smiles, only reaching the clothes covering him instead. They clenched and pulled just a bit as she crumbled forward.

She began to cry.

"Miss Dallon."

Amy lifted her head up, revealing a puffy face with red eyes and tear streaks running down in multiple channels. She looked around with her blurry vision until she caught sight of a man looking down at her. She blinked and then rubbed at her eyes.

It was in the middle of the night, she realized, which means that she'd spent at least several hours by … his side.

Her heart lurched and the feeling returned.

"So that's how you express your grief," the man said. "No different from anyone else."

Her attention sharpened and she glared at him. With her eyes adjusted to the dark, she saw who this person was. Immaculately dressed in a form-fitting business suit and red-marked white masked, this cape was someone she didn't know. The closest description of the cape she could put into place was Accord, but why would Accord talk to her? He was also in Boston, and probably wouldn't come up to Brockton Bay right after an Endbringer hit the city.

"Who are you?" she asked grouchily.

He bowed slightly. "I am the Broker. It's a pleasure to meet you."

She scoffed, letting her eyes drift away back to Smiles. "Me or Panacea?" she muttered.

"You, of course. Panacea would never grieve; she would move on with her healing to the next person, because that is what the world expects of you."

She stilled. She looked back up to him. Why? Because the phrase he just uttered was very close to what someone else had said when they first met her.

"You recognize what I've said, no?"

The feeling that pushed her down until now mutated and became a horrific rage. She shot up from where she'd been sitting. "What do you want with me?!" she shouted.

"Not very much, I assure you," he replied as he reached into his business suit. She stilled, ready to bolt. He slowly pulled out an envelope. "His will, if you will."

She frowned. "What?"

"The will of the cape you knew as Smiles."

She froze and stared at the envelope.

"Of course, he doesn't have any family member who can open it. All of them died in Leviathan's attack on Seattle. I suppose it's one of the reasons why he was so keen on being out there in the battle, rescuing as much people as he could," the Broker said. "But he did say that one known as 'Amy Dallon' was allowed to open his will." He extended it to her. "Miss Dallon, would you like to open the will of Smiles?"

She stared at the envelope for a second before looking back up. "W-Why did he make m-me the one?" she asked stuttered, not really knowing the correct words for everything and the emotions suddenly changing again to grief being too much on her.

"… I believe his own words was thus: 'that girl needs it.'"

She snatched the envelope from his hand and ripped it open, revealing a simple lined paper. It was written by hand with a pencil.

"'To my friends and family,'" she began.

To my friends and family,

I'm not sure who's going to read my will. I mean, I am a cape, which means that I am bound to die sooner than your average person. That said, I left a list of individuals who are allowed to open my will to a dear friend of mine. His name is the Broker, and he was the one responsible for making me who I am today.

First, all of my non-financial possessions go to my little sister. Last I checked, she lives in Los Angelos after Leviathan struck our home in Seattle. Her name is Melody Tripoliska, and she lives with her boyfriend. Tell her I love her.

Second, all of my financial possession aka my moneys and grubs and stocks and blings should be liquidated and donated to the charity most associated with my untimely death. If I just die in a random explosion, then donate it to Brockton General Hospital. They kind of need it, even with Amy doing some heavy lifting for them.

And speaking of, the last point of this will, a word to Amy Dallon otherwise known to the world as Panacea.

I want anyone who reads this will to tell her this after a hug.

"Be happy. Be strong. You are beloved by many. Don't waste your life away in a single hospital. Do what you want, not what is expected of you. And lastly, please Smile for me, Amy. Frowns don't look good on you."

Thanks to anyone who arrive at my funeral. As long as my head is intact, please don't make my funeral a close casket one. Those suck.

Sincerely,

Johnathan "Smiles" Tripoliska

"How sad."

Amy looked back up, her eyes once again brimming with tears.

"Even though he is friends with someone capable of resurrecting a human being, he doesn't ask for it," the Broker tutted. "Perhaps it's because he doesn't believe you consider him to be worth it?"

Rage.

Unbidden rage roared from within her.

"AGGHH-!" she shouted and reached forth-.

Only for her hand to touch Smiles' dead and standing body, held up by the Broker.

"His body is right there and yet she refuses tohealhim. The person he devoted an entire day writing that small part of the will to won't even try," he said mockingly. He jostled the dead body, and Amy flinched, just staring at Smiles' bloodied mask. "He put his faith in the wrong place."

And then speared his hand through the dead body's heart. Amy froze.

The Broker mercilessly pulled back, pulling the heart out and dropping the body without a care.

"Did you know that he loved you?" the Broker asked. "He knew that you weren't interested in anything. Had an idea that you were too engrossed in your role either out of guilt or duty. Care, love… those didn't have a place in your life, he thought, because he believed that you might not return his love. A sad sad man."

And then, he crushed Smiles' heart.

Amy's vision swam.

Visions of two twisting worms in the heavens.

An agreement.

An alteration.

When her eyes shot open, she was laying next to Smiles' undamaged body.

She stood up and whirled around, surprising people around her.

It was still day.

'How-?'

Then, she saw something flutter down. It was a piece of paper. She snatched it out of the air. Its edge was burnt. Words were written on it.

'Do what you want, not what is expected of you.'

His will.

It was his will.

Someone burnt his will.

And then she remembered something.

Friends with someone capable of resurrecting a human being, he doesn't ask for it. Perhaps it's because he doesn't believe you consider him to be worth it?

Amy looked down at Smiles' body even as people came up to her to ask what was wrong.

"No," she muttered to himself.

He's worth it.