Another Way

Part Fourteen: Clash of Titans

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

Tuesday Afternoon, October 2, 2007
Marchioness

"Okay," Palatina stated as the automatic doors hissed shut behind them and they walked away from the PRT building. "That was … harrowing."

"Oh, come on," Claire said with a grin. "Admit it. It was fun."

Palatina rolled her eyes. "Sure. Fun. As in fundamentally unsettling." She gave Marquis a look that Claire interpreted as mixing respect with exasperation. "One of these days, you're going to push their buttons a little too hard and someone's going to do something that you don't expect."

"Like Kaiser and Krieg did," Claire reminded her father. She'd certainly enjoyed the sight of Armsmaster and Director Piggot fuming over not being able to arrest her father, but it was only possible to push people so far before they pushed back. "And I'm not at all sure I could pull off that particular stunt again, especially not in the PRT building."

"Well, no," Marquis agreed. "Starting a fight on the enemy's home turf, where they can control the terrain and bring up troops faster than you can knock them down, is almost invariably a losing move. I believe the relevant quote is 'never fight a land war in Asia'. As for Kaiser … well, it was an unexpected gambit. Of course, he himself would never have come up with it on his own. But desperate men will adopt desperate strategies, and the loss of Somer's Rock must have seemed worth the benefit of wiping me off the board."

"I'm still shocked that Krieg even thought of it," Palatina said. "I mean, it's Somer's Rock. Villains—and one or two heroes—have been meeting there since forever." She shook her head. "I've seen deadly enemies be polite to each other—well, at least they didn't try to kill each other—while sitting in the 'Rock. It's just …" She trailed off, shaking her head at the apparent impossibility of expressing what she was feeling.

"You're forgetting a fundamental aspect here," Marquis pointed out as they strolled down the street. While he spoke, Claire kept a lookout all around, ready to warn the others if she spotted any kind of danger. To her mild surprise, barely anyone was even paying attention to them. Palatina's costume was noticeable as such, but its very plainness worked in their favour. The lack of any kind of logo or theme apparently made her look less interesting. Those few who spotted her unusual irises gave her a second look, but it wasn't as if they were going to recognise her as Purity.

"What aspect is that?" Palatina was also apparently aware of the scrutiny, or lack thereof. Claire was just close enough to get a hint of confusion and wary acceptance from her. It obviously wasn't her usual thing to walk past the PRT building in full costume, even with the rest of her team in attendance. The Empire, as bold as they had been, probably hadn't been that audacious.

"He wasn't from Brockton Bay," Marquis said bluntly. "We all are. From the moment you set foot in the cape scene, you were made aware of how sacred it was. Krieg was sent to America by Gesellschaft, to forge a connection with Allfather's Empire, back in the day. You'll note that even though he was nominally an outsider, he was made a second in command of the Empire. That was part of the agreement with Gesellschaft. But he was never really a Brockton Bay cape, not where it counted."

"That … actually makes a lot of sense," Palatina admitted, enlightenment washing through her brain. It looked kind of pretty, Claire decided. "He was always just a bit standoffish, especially after Max started paying attention to me. I'm curious now if he thought Max might replace him with me." She sounded a little wistful.

"Wondering about what might have been?" Marquis raised a practised eyebrow. "Believe me, if I mourned every lost opportunity, I'd never get anything done. As far as I'm concerned, it's better to look ahead for the opportunities in the future than spend all your time in the past."

"Well, this is true," Palatina conceded, giving Claire's father a half-smile. "Besides, I doubt I'll ever really forgive him for stabbing me like that." Her voice was calm, but underneath her thoughts were in turmoil. The release of tension stemming from walking out of the lion's den was making her just a little giddy, which contributed to the heavy-lidded gaze she sent Marquis' way. She didn't speak, and Claire wasn't actually able to read thoughts, but the subtext was extremely clear: I know you wouldn't do that to me.

"Seriously, am I gonna have to tell you two to get a room?" Claire pretended exasperation. "Or are we gonna go after Blasto and explain to him why he shouldn't be making copies of my Dad?" She looked from one adult to the other. "Because I'll happily go looking for him myself, just so long as I'm away from you two making goo-goo eyes at each other." She was pleased that Kayden and her father were interested in each other. While she missed Abigail, she knew he was lonely, and Kayden was nice. As the saying went, there was a time and a place for things like that.

"We are not making goo-goo eyes at each other," protested Palatina, but she coloured heavily at the same time. "We were just making polite conversation."

"Uh huh," Claire said sarcastically, noting that her father had not weighed in on the matter. While his face showed nothing, his thoughts indicated a certain amount of amusement. "So, any ideas about how we're gonna track down Blasto?"

"Steady down," Marquis advised her. "He's a very strong suspect, certainly, but all we have at the moment is circumstantial evidence." He clasped his hands behind his back as he strode along. "The fact of the matter is that we don't know if he's behind it. It could be that someone is framing him. In which case, we need to be careful with our approach. If he's actually innocent of the charge, a clumsy approach means we've just made an enemy needlessly."

"Kaiser wouldn't have had a problem with that," Palatina offered. "Or Lung. They aren't known for letting defeated enemies go if they have a chance to kill them instead."

Marquis didn't react outwardly to that, though Claire read the determination in his mind. Curious as to whether this was a universal trait in the villains of Brockton Bay, she turned to Palatina. The older woman misread her expression and shrugged. "What? It's true."

Claire had seen direct evidence of that, but she still had to ask the question. It would make her sound more than a little naïve, but she wanted to get things clear in her head. "Aren't there kind of unspoken rules against killing downed enemies, stuff like that?"

"Certainly," Marquis agreed. "The truth is, most of us agree to abide by them. But there's always those who think they're above such things. Case in point: Somer's Rock."

Palatina cleared her throat, apparently a little uncomfortable with the topic at hand. Claire figured she was thinking about the Empire's role in the matter. "But Marchioness has a point. How are we going to find him?"

"By a process of elimination," declared Marquis. "Blasto is a Tinker of sorts, which means he needs a sizeable base and resources to work with. We simply take away all the places he can't be based in, then we investigate the remainder."

"Oh." Claire was a little taken aback. "For a moment there, I thought you were going to pull out some cool trick that lets us go straight to his lair. I was totally ready to be thoroughly impressed."

"Well, compared with the Saturday morning cartoon method of wandering around aimlessly until you accidentally stumble across a clue, I think that actually counts as a cool trick," Palatina pointed out. "Either that or wait to be attacked, then follow the villains back to their lair."

"Does that ever happen in real life?" asked Claire. "Just being attacked out of the blue?"

Behind them, a loud metallic clang sounded. All three turned as one, to see Lung climbing out of a manhole. The cover lay nearby. Lung was a good eight feet tall at this point, and a heat shimmer danced around his body as he squeezed through the narrow (for him) opening. His mask looked a little different from normal; Claire wondered if the original had been damaged or something.

"Apparently, more often than you'd think," Palatina replied, her voice oddly calm. Claire could tell she was forcing her fear down. She didn't know if Purity had ever fought the Asian crime lord—it wasn't a topic of conversation that had actually come up—but it was a contest that could only end badly for the loser.

"Is there anything we need to know about him?" asked Marquis, as Lung finally gained his feet. "Particular vulnerabilities or immunities? Apart from fire, that is?"

Lung turned to look at them. In response, Marquis coated himself from head to toe in living bone. An elaborate trident formed itself in his hands, but he made no move to attack. Behind him, Claire was working hard on herself and the other two, doing her best to fireproof them. It wasn't easy, but she had a few ideas. And if worst came to worst, she'd take on the combat form she'd used to such great effect before.

After giving them a long look, from which Claire could swear she felt the air heat up around them, Lung abruptly turned away. He started toward the front doors of the PRT building, silver scales sliding into place on his skin and flame dancing around his hands.

"Okay, I have a question." Claire wondered if she was missing something. "Why is Lung attacking the PRT building, alone?" Because there was a singular lack of ABB members climbing out of the manhole, or converging on the doors from other directions. And surely even Lung didn't consider himself so powerful that he could take on the PRT in a direct confrontation and win. It was a spectacularly unstrategic move.

"I find myself asking the same question," mused Marquis. "More to the point, we've been antagonising him almost from the day we arrived back in the 'Bay. Why would he choose to attack them over me?"

Amused despite herself, Claire snorted. "A little hurt pride there, Dad?" However, her father's point was valid. Lung had to know what Marquis looked like, and had the reputation of never turning away from a fight. Despite having never met him, she was sure this was extremely out of character for the man.

"Forget your male pride," Palatina said bluntly. "What do we do? Shouldn't we just … well, walk away?" She sounded as though she meant it. Even in her mind, she was singularly uninterested in testing herself against Lung. "It's not our fight. If Lung wants to take on the PRT, that's his problem."

Sirens began to sound from within the building, and shutters rattled down into place just as Lung reached the doors. He took hold of the shutters and let out a grunt of effort that Claire heard from where she was. With a screech of tearing metal, he tore them out of their runners and hurled them out into the street. Then he took hold of the glass sliding doors and tried to pull them apart.

Marquis rubbed his chin. "I think that it's a good idea to keep your enemy guessing," he decided. "In the interests of confusing the good Director Piggot, we shall assist them today. Because unless I miss my guess, Lung is going to flee just before sufficient forces arrive to take him into custody. And I don't want that happening."

Claire frowned. "I can see he's not acting like himself, but …" And then she clicked. The fact that Lung was alone was one thing. However, add in the factors that he wasn't attacking Marquis on sight and he was doing something absolutely guaranteed to get the PRT and Protectorate even more interested in arresting him, and there was only one reasonable conclusion. "He's a clone too, isn't he?"

"That's my guess, my dear Marchioness," Marquis agreed. They heard the sound of shattering glass as Lung took his fists to the barriers, destroying them with a few solid punches. Claire was impressed. She was sure that had been no ordinary glass. He glanced around. "The lobby of that building is no place for a protracted battle. In addition, there are innocents within. Palatina, take Marchioness to the roof and request access to the elevator, to get you down to the ground floor. Blow him out of the building. Can you do that?"

"I can get us up there," Palatina agreed, a little dubiously. "Why are they going to let me use the elevator, again?"

"Because I'll be with you," Claire said, grasping her father's plan at once. "Come on. It'll be fun."

"Fun. Yes. I'm beginning to wonder about your definition of the word." Palatina was definitely feeling misgivings, but she didn't hesitate as she wrapped her arms around Claire. "Up we go."

If Claire had thought the glare was bright before, it was utterly blinding now that she was right next to the source. So she shut her eyes and braced herself for the upward acceleration. It was actually quite brisk, considering that Palatina was having to lift her mass as well. The modifications she'd done to the older woman to increase her strength were helping. Still, it seemed like minutes before they reached the rooftop, although it had to be only a few seconds.

As Palatina set her down, shouts rang out across the broad expanse. "PRT! Hold it right there! Move and we'll shoot! Purity, power down now-now-now!"

"Oh, shit," muttered Palatina. "I hope your dad knows what he's talking about." Fear washed through her system, spiking her adrenaline levels, but she didn't seem to be about to do anything stupid.

"He usually does." Claire kept her voice soothing. As Palatina's glare faded, they both turned toward the guards, who had rifles aimed and ready. She couldn't read their bodies from this range, but they had to be ready to fire at the slightest provocation. "Just remember, you're mostly bulletproof," she said without moving her lips. Slowly, she raised her hands.

"'Mostly' isn't 'totally'," Palatina pointed out, but she followed suit. "What now?"

"Follow my lead." Claire raised her voice. "Excuse me," she called out. "I'm Marchioness. You may have been briefed on me. Palatina and I would like to use your elevator, if you don't mind."

There was a moment of silence across the rooftop before one of the guards replied. "Wait, what?"

"Never mind that," snapped the other guard harshly. "Secure them, fast. We're needed to help with that maniac tearing up the lobby."

"That's what we're here for." Claire tried to project all the reasonable logic into her voice that she could. She kept her hands up because the approaching guards still looked as though they had their fingers on the triggers. "We're here to help. Lung is attacking your building, and we want to stop him."

"Shut up." It was the harsh-voiced guard. "On your knees. Hands behind your heads. Purity, if you even begin to light up, I will fill you full of lead. I shit you not."

This was beginning to look like a bad idea. "No, listen," Claire tried again. "Call the Director. Tell her it's Marchioness. We were talking to her five minutes ago!"

"The Director's got other problems," the guard said flatly. "You must've thought it was a golden opportunity to attack us from the air. Well, surprise, cupcake. Dunno what a 'Marchioness' is supposed to be, but I know who Purity is, and she's got warrants in her name from here to Boston. So you're both under arrest, and that's just for starters." He gestured with his gun. "On your knees, I said. Now!"

Well, crap. I had to run into the only two guards in the building who don't know who I am. Claire sank to her knees. Beside her, Palatina did the same.

Claire was starting to foster a real dislike for the harsh-voiced guard, which extended her range relative to him, even though he was farther away. However, she couldn't do anything to his thought patterns, just to his body. The other one was coming closer, his rifle at the ready.

"Don't do anything stupid now," the closer one said. "Nobody needs to get hurt …" And then he stepped inside the range where she could exert positive, precise control over his body. Almost casually, his hand dropped to his waist, where grenades hung from clips. Each one carried on it the symbol for containment foam.

"Stop wasting time!" snapped the one she didn't like. "Get them secured! We need a bag on Purity's head, asap!"

The closer guard's adrenaline spiked in fear as he realised he'd lost all conscious control over his body, but Claire made his movements smooth and fast. Hooking the grenade from his belt, he flicked the pin off and tossed it toward his comrade before she froze every voluntary muscle in his body. The other guard realised what was going on, just as the grenade landed at his feet. "Fuck!" he yelled. "Master!" Levelling his rifle at Claire, he made to fire, but she was two steps ahead of him. She couldn't exert the same control as she could over the closer guard, but she could numb his hands and make him drop the weapon. Then the grenade went off, engulfing him in an ever-expanding blob of yellow foam.

Claire came to her feet and darted over to the guard whose body she'd commandeered. "It's okay," she said soothingly, laying her hand on his arm to get close enough for mental adjustment. "Everything's going to be fine." At the same time, she reinforced her words with the belief that what she was saying was absolutely true. "You just have to let us go down in the elevator, and we'll be out of your hair."

"But—but what about him?" asked the guard, pointing at his comrade. Or rather, at the blob of foam which was wriggling slightly with the man's struggles. "I foamed him!"

Claire stepped in front of him to block his view. "He was going to shoot me. I'm Marchioness. You know, the healer? You heard about me somewhere and remembered that I wasn't to be hurt, so you foamed him to protect me. You'll be a hero." As she spoke, her power continued to influence him to accept her words as gospel.

"Oh, that's right," the guard said shakily. "He's gonna be pissed at me, though."

"That's all right," Claire said. "The Director's gonna be happy with you. But we really have to get downstairs quickly."

"Sure, I can let you in," the guard agreed hastily. "But the elevator is locked down because of Lung. You'll have to use the fire stairs." He led them to the doors that opened on to the roof, and tapped in a code. They hissed open, then he tapped another code into the panel next to the fire stairs. Pulling that door open, he stepped aside. "There you go, ladies. Sorry about the misunderstanding from before."

"That's okay," Palatina said, her voice just a little dubious. She glanced at Claire, then at the guard, as if she wasn't quite able to get her head around what the teen was doing. Heading into the stairwell, she lit up and levitated over the rail. Seconds later, she was out of sight, with only the light flaring up from below to show where she was.

"So, I'm curious," the guard said as Claire prepared to follow her. "Is Purity a good guy now? Because I didn't know that."

Claire sighed. "It's … complicated." She set the disbelief blocker to dissolve in a few moments—the guard didn't deserve to automatically accept everything that everyone told him for the rest of his life—and hurried down the stairs after Palatina.

It's a good thing I'm as fit as I need to be.

Kayden

Flying down the stairwell was a pain. Kayden would've been much happier if it had been an open-plan staircase that she could just drop down the middle of, but no, they had to go with the classic switchback pattern. This meant she had to swerve back and forth across the centreline for each floor. Worse, she had to time each swerve just right, which meant she couldn't go too fast. It crossed her mind that she could've just blasted their way in through a ground-floor fire door. Of course, doing so would draw official attention … ugh.

Left … right … left … right … left … right … She was concentrating so hard on the stairs that it took a moment for her to realise that she was at the ground floor, mainly due to the sounds of combat permeating through the door from the building proper. With a sheepish grin, she flew back up one flight of stairs—they seemed to go all the way into a basement level—and got to the fire door. Which was locked. Because of course it is.

Gritting her teeth, she cupped her hands around the handle and loosed the weakest bolt she was capable of producing. Her power flared and blasted a foot-wide chunk out of the doorframe, and blew the door clean off its hinges. Well, I tried … Glowing and levitating, because there was no way she was going to be stealthy after that, Kayden flew through the doorway.

The other side was … chaos. Piles of containment foam lay everywhere, some looking decidedly scorched. The gift shop was piled high with the stuff, for what reason Kayden had no idea. Around the room, the cameras and TV monitors had all been destroyed, and the main counter had been mostly destroyed. Quite a bit of the place was on fire. The clone of Lung, standing at least twelve feet tall, looked around from where he was seconds away from breaking through into the office spaces. Beyond the barrier, Armsmaster stood with his halberd in a guard position.

'Lung' looked around and saw Kayden; with a roar, he sent a gust of fire at her. Almost instinctively, she returned the blast, then shielded her face with her arms as the flame washed over her. It stung, a lot, but the pain was neither crippling nor even agonising. While her blast sent 'Lung' flying back to smash against the opposite wall, she felt that she was barely scorched. Though I think my eyebrows are AWOL. Until Claire can grow them back, that is.

'Lung' pulled himself out of the hole he'd made in the wall. Kayden found herself somewhat impressed at the structural strength of the building. Of course, it was the PRT building, so a certain amount of effort had no doubt gone into its construction. But this wasn't getting her job done. She flew forward, skimming by the ruined counter.

"Purity!" That was Armsmaster's bellow. She'd know it anywhere. "You're in on this, too?"

"It's Palatina!" she shouted back. "And I'm saving your ass!" She saw the clone preparing to launch another fire blast and yelled, "Duck!"

Bellowing something even more incomprehensible than normal, the silver-scaled monster sent another blast of flame at her, but she heeded her own advice and got out of the way. This one, she felt, might have actually hurt. It washed past her into the office spaces, and she thought she heard cries of fear. When she glanced back, Armsmaster was still standing there, though his armour showed signs of scorching. Crap, there's still people down here. That's why he hasn't retreated. Well, time to pull up my big-girl pants and show this cheap copy how a real cape does things.

"Lung," she shouted, then paused, trying to work out a suitably dramatic line. Nothing came to her, so she just yelled, "Fuck off!" He lunged at her, steel claws outstretched. She let him almost get to her, then triggered as powerful a blast as she dared use inside the building.

The spiralling lines of force smashed into the hulking form and blasted it out through the open doorway. His outstretched arm took a sizeable chunk of wall with it, but she didn't care. Coughing a little from the smoke, she flew out after him, ready to hit him again if need be. However, Marquis had been waiting for this moment. By the time she got clear of the building, 'Lung' was thoroughly encased in bone, with more accreting on him with every second that passed. There was a distinct lack of traffic, due mainly to the bone barriers that blocked the road in both directions.

"Is that it?" she asked, then coughed again. "Did we get him?"

"For the moment," he said, then looked around. "Where's Marchioness? We need her to finish this."

"She's coming down the stairs," she replied. "We couldn't use the elevator." Then she saw the two men on the otherwise-deserted street beyond Marquis. They were both wearing the red and green of the ABB. Worse, they were carrying firearms. "Shit, look out!"

He turned fast, the bone armour on his body thickening as he flung out his arm to generate a wall of bone between herself and the gunmen. Only a second or so later, the distinctive sound of gunfire echoed from the frontage of the PRT building; at the same time, she heard the impacts of bullets against the bone wall.

She wasn't sure whether she should be pleased that he'd made it a priority to protect her or annoyed that he thought she needed protection. Claire, after all, had made her somewhat more durable than before. She'd even gotten through a close-quarters fight with the Lung knockoff without losing more than her eyebrows.

No more shots came their way, so she powered up and rose above the barrier to see what was going on. Marquis stood with one hand outstretched, a line of bone reaching down the road. At the far end, it had formed an enclosure which he was just now closing off at the top. "That should deal with you," he said with satisfaction.

"I thought this was a clone," Kayden said, frowning. "Those guys were ABB. Why are they following a clone?"

"Kindly note that there are only two of them, and they looked rather young," Marquis replied with a certain amount of good cheer. "I'm willing to bet that they match the body types of the two goons who showed up with my ersatz duplicate at the bank robbery." He looked around. "Ah, my dear Marchioness. Decided to join the party at last?"

Claire, in her Marchioness form, exited the PRT building. She seemed skinnier than normal, and her arms and legs looked longer. As she crossed the street to join them, her limbs reduced in length and her body filled out. "You try getting down all those stairs in a hurry, while wearing an evening gown," she snarked back at him. "You get him?"

"To a point," Marquis allowed. "He's still growing. I'm adapting the bone casing, but soon it just won't have the structural strength to hold him." As if to emphasise his words, the mass of bone cracked briefly and flame spurted out before the cracks sealed over again. Marquis' voice took on an intrigued note. "Hm. That's interesting."

"We've got the extremely pissed-off clone of a powerful cape currently outgrowing our attempts to hold him in," Kayden said tensely. She powered up to give herself the best chance of a pre-emptive shot should 'Lung' burst free from his confinement. "I'd say that's more than just 'interesting'."

"That's not what I was talking about," Marquis replied lightly. "Now that Marchioness has joined us, his rate of growth seems to have increased. Perhaps his power ramps up more when there are capes nearby?"

"That's kind of a frightening idea," Kayden said bluntly. "I know it's pretty hard to fight him even with cape powers, but if he just gets tougher when capes are involved, I can see why he hasn't lost many fights."

"It is somewhat of a game-changer, yes." Marquis nodded to Marchioness. "Can you get close enough to put him to sleep?"

"I've been trying," she said. "Physically, I should be able to, but his regeneration keeps overriding the order to become unconscious. I'd be able to knock him out with access to his brain, but I can't do that with all this bone in the way. While I don't like Lung, I know this isn't him, so I haven't got much in the way of feelings about this guy. I mean, I know he tried to kill people, but that was because Blasto ordered him to. If anything, I'm sorry for him."

Marquis grimaced. "I'd been wondering when the emotional aspect of your powers would come back to bite us. It appears that today is the day." He sighed. "Very well. I shall weaken some of the bone. This should give him the chance to break an arm free. Will that work for you?"

Claire

"That should be perfect," Claire said. While she could sense the pseudo-Lung's body easily, and even control some of his autonomic responses, his power no-sold a lot of the more subtle stuff she could do to people. Which meant she had to get a lot closer than normal. She leaned in, knowing that she was protected against most of what he could do as well, but still not wanting to tempt fate.

A circle about a foot wide inscribed itself on the bone surface in front of her, then acquired dozens of subtle cracks across its diameter. She waited, feeling the movement of the clone as it attempted to burst out of its osseous bonds. Through her power, she knew it had just felt the bone give way in a particular direction. It lunged, steel-taloned fingers reaching to grasp and tear.

Small chunks of bone flew every which way as the clone's arm smashed its way free of the barrier. However, Claire had been waiting, and she'd tuned up her reaction time for this exact purpose. Even if the clone had been able to see what was happening, it still wouldn't have been able to pull its arm back in time. Her hand blurred forward and slapped around the clone's wrist. Fire licked and curled upward out of the hole, but that didn't matter either; her skin was remarkably fire-resistant right then. Assuming control over his brain, she dived in to see what was going on and how to manipulate it for her own use.

Three seconds later, it was done, and she released the clone's wrist. "Okay, you can let him go, Dad," she said cheerfully, dusting her hands off. "He won't be any trouble." As she spoke, she was making the requisite changes to her own skin to carry off her next trick.

"Wait, what did you do?" Palatina stared as the bone holding 'Lung' captive cracked and then began to crumble to fine powder. The clone stood up and brushed himself off, then turned to Claire and stood waiting. She noted that it had been thankfully provided with bicycle shorts that were both stretchy and (apparently) fireproof. "One minute he's trying to kill us all and the next he's fine with us? I thought it took longer to subvert someone?"

Claire loved moments like this. "Yeah, normally it would. But this guy was built with a hyper-effective vomeronasal organ, which provides a ready-made source of control. I just subverted that. Much easier." She looked over toward the large cylindrical bone shape that had planted itself in the middle of the street, not far away. "I'm guessing there's someone in there too?"

"Certainly," Marquis confirmed. "Two idiots who attempted to interrupt us. Let me know when you're ready, my dear."

"Wait, wait," protested Palatina, who apparently hadn't noted the significance of the term Claire had used. "What's a vomero-whatsit, and how does it let you control him?"

"Pheromones," Claire explained succinctly. "His reaction to them is about as sensitive as a moth's. Certain pheromones cause predetermined actions, and right now I'm putting out the one that signals to stand down, the fight's over." She headed over toward the bone prison. Her power told her that there were two young men imprisoned within, just as her father had said. The sense she had of their bodies told her that they were holding guns. Not for long.

"But can't Blasto, or whoever, just engineer something that'll put out stronger pheromones?" asked Palatina. Claire had to hand it to her; she was definitely thinking this through. "The first we'll know about it is when he turns on us."

"Well, yeah, that is a concern," admitted Claire, her expression serious. She couldn't keep it up for long, though, and her face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Or it would be if I hadn't retuned his receptors to accept different pheromones, anyway." She triggered an uncontrollable shaking in their hands that caused them to drop the guns. That small task accomplished, she slapped at the bone wall before her. "Knock knock."

If someone had responded with "who's there", it would've made her day. Disappointingly enough, nothing of the sort happened. A doorway-shaped section of bone crumbled inward and slumped to the ground, but she knew that was her father's doing. Within were the two people she'd sensed, their hands still shaking.

"Hi," she said cheerfully. "Who wants to be first?"

Marquis

Earl Marchant watched his daughter march up to the bone box and smiled proudly. She's far more confident than I was at that age, he knew. Leaning across to Palatina, he murmured, "Who's on first?" His power served to weaken enough bone to effect an entry, as Marchioness obviously wanted.

The blonde caught the Abbott & Costello reference just as the first of the Lung-clone's minions decided to try to rush his way out. Her snort of amusement was cut short as her eyes widened in alarm. This was understandable, given that the lad in question outweighed Claire by about half again. But before either of them could react, Earl's delicate little girl bodily grabbed the boy, hoisted him over her head and slammed him down on to the asphalt.

"Stay," she ordered the headstrong lout, then turned toward his comrade. "Next?" she offered sweetly. Earl was reminded once more of her strength of will. And, more importantly, the fact that she could rebuild her body as needed. Right then, it seemed, she'd needed the ability to perform a move that would've gotten a standing ovation from any pro-wrestling audience.

"You really aren't going to be worried when she starts dating, are you?" asked Palatina, a smile lurking on her lips. She had relaxed somewhat, but he could tell she was still scanning the surroundings. Which was a smart thing to do; Protectorate reinforcements had to be incoming.

"I must admit, any importunate young man trying anything on her will probably undergo a more stringent punishment from her than from me," he said lightly. "After all, I would only kill them. Or perhaps slowly emasculate them. My dear, sweet, innocent daughter can do much, much more to them." He watched as Claire stepped aside from a wildly-thrown punch. Almost as if they'd practised, she grabbed the boy's wrist, causing him to freeze in his tracks.

The corner of Palatina's mouth lifted in acknowledgement. "That makes a lot of sense," she agreed. "She'll be about the safest teenage girl in the United States. The closer they try to get to her, the more power she'll have over them, and the more insight she'll have into their motivations."

"In a perfect world, she'd never get into a situation where she had to use her power in such a way, but this isn't a perfect world," Earl pointed out. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he hit speed-dial. "Jonas, we're ready for pickup. If you can meet us one block west from the PRT building, that would be appreciated. We will have three guests with us. Speed will be of the essence."

"Very good, sir." Even as the call ended, Earl heard the car engine rumble to life. He put the phone away, turning his attention to his surroundings once more. It really is very good to have people I can depend on.

"It's time to move," he announced, raising his voice so that Claire could hear him. "This way."

At that moment, Armsmaster emerged from the front doors of the PRT building. He was limping slightly, but his stride was implacable, and he held his halberd in a position of readiness. "Lung! Purity!" he bellowed. "You're under arrest! Stand down or I will use lethal force!"

"I'm sorry, Armsmaster," Marquis called back. "There's two problems with that statement." He gestured in the direction he needed the others to go in. "Go on. I'll catch up."

"This is none of your business, Marquis!" snapped Armsmaster. "I'm arresting two known criminals!" He limped closer, but Earl stepped into his way.

"No." Long ago, Earl had perfected a tone which conveyed all the elements of no, you will not do that without requiring him to raise his voice. "I don't believe you are." He watched Armsmaster, and just as the armoured hero opened his mouth, he cut in once more. "Tell me, who do you think you are arresting?"

Caught short, Armsmaster stopped and turned his helmet toward Earl. If the veteran villain's understanding of body language was in any way accurate, Armsmaster was glaring at him almost hard enough to melt holes in his own visor through the sheer force of his anger. "Purity and Lung," he bit off.

"Well, there you're wrong," Earl corrected him lightly. "That's not Purity. That's Palatina. As you may have ascertained from the connotations of the name, she's my second in command. And that … is not Lung."

Armsmaster did a manful job of swallowing his anger at being corrected over Palatina's identity. Earl could tell that he wanted to arrest her anyway, but the stricture had already been applied, and so he could not. But he wasn't yet done. "Of course that's Lung!" he snapped. "He's still wearing the goddamn mask!"

"Language, Armsmaster," Claire chided him with just the right amount of fake outrage in her voice. "I am a minor, you know." She waved her hand toward 'Lung' as the clone followed Palatina down the street. "That's not Lung. He's a clone of Lung, but he's not the original."

"He still attacked the PRT building!" Armsmaster took a step toward Earl. "I'm warning you. I won't arrest you, but I will stun you and step over your body." He paused. "Wait, a clone?"

"He's not going to do it again," Claire said, entirely reasonably. "And yes, he's a clone. We're going to find out who sent the clone—probably the same person who sent the clone of Marquis to the bank—and ask him very politely never to do it again." Her tone was sweet reason itself, right up until the last five words, upon which it acquired a pitch and a spin that would've made a strong man take a step back.

To Armsmaster's credit, he did no such thing. "Blasto." His voice was thoughtful. "You're talking about Blasto."

"That is our supposition, yes," Earl agreed. He wasn't thrilled that the PRT had even this information, but such things happened. In any case, he had what he needed. "Don't worry; by the time we're done, he will no longer be a threat to Brockton Bay."

"I do not condone murder!" Armsmaster snapped. "Even a villain has the right to due process!"

"I do not condone people using my face to mar my good name," Earl returned bluntly. "I'm certain Lung would not be overly happy about it, either. I'm doing you a favour. Once I clear us both, you can go back to prosecuting Lung for the crimes he has committed. You wouldn't want any cases to be thrown out of court on a technicality, would you?"

"And Blasto will be alive when we give him to you," Claire piped up. She tilted her head slightly. "For a given definition of 'alive', that is." She looked Armsmaster right in the eye, or where his eyes would be. "And as my father has said, he's a villain. He doesn't have to follow the law."

"Everyone has to follow the law." Armsmaster's tone should have scraped sparks off the concrete pavement between them.

"We don't." Claire gave him a cheeky grin. "Because it's more convenient for the Director to let me heal people than to deal with the fallout from you trying to arrest my father. Or Palatina. Or anyone else we decide to recruit."

Momentarily, Earl wondered if Armsmaster's armour had a blood-pressure readout. If it does, I think Claire just broke it. "The agreement was for Palatina," Armsmaster snapped. "Not Lung, and not for … who were the other two, anyway?"

"As Marchioness pointed out, that's not Lung. And as for who they are … well, that's one of the things we're interested in finding out," Earl said cheerfully. "Now, I'd like to say that it's been enlightening chatting to you, but we really do have to go. The crime in Brockton Bay's not going to clean itself up, after all." He turned toward the end of the block, where the car had just turned the corner. Palatina would be in it, along with the other three. With a thought, Earl dissolved the rest of his creations in the area, allowing the dust to blow away in the wind. With nothing to impede its progress, the car rolled slowly toward them.

"I can't let you leave." Armsmaster stood defiantly before the car, his halberd pointing directly at it. "I'm not arresting you, but you will be detained until we have answers."

Earl sighed and took his phone out of his pocket. He tapped in a number, and then put it on speaker. It had been well worth the ridiculous amount he'd paid to get the private numbers of all the movers and shakers in Brockton Bay.

"Hello? Who is this?" Emily Piggot's voice sounded suspicious.

"This is Marquis," Earl replied, doing his best to sound like he was being entirely reasonable against all odds. "Armsmaster is being difficult. Would you kindly order him to allow us to depart before I lose patience with him and leave him hanging upside down from your flagpole, minus his armour? Because that can be arranged."

"Director—" Armsmaster tried to get a word in edgeways, but didn't quite make it.

"Armsmaster." Piggot's tone was that of someone whose last nerve was being tap-danced upon, and who didn't appreciate it in the slightest. "Stand down immediately."

So then, of course, Armsmaster proved himself entirely incapable of reading the most obvious of vocal cues. "But I—"

"Don't make me repeat myself. Allow Marquis and Marchioness to leave. Get a damage and casualty report. That's an order."

It wasn't a blood pressure reader that Armsmaster's armour needed, Earl decided. It was a pressure scale reader for his teeth. If the man gritted them any harder, he'd be able to compress graphene into diamonds. "Orders received and understood, Director." There was probably a hate-filled glare in there somewhere, but the visor rendered such things null and void. Turning on his heel, Armsmaster stalked off back toward the PRT building.

"Ouch." Claire's tone was low, pitched only for Earl's ears. "That had to hurt."

"Indubitably." Earl opened the door for his daughter, then got into the front seat. This was not his practice, but the back seat looked distinctly cosy at the moment, even with the spare seats. "And that is why I would never subjugate myself to the whims of another. A man must be the master of his own destiny. If he must follow another, then he should pick someone who thinks the same way as he does. Otherwise, it's his own problem. Don't you agree, Jonas?"

The burly South African nodded briefly. "Sure thing, sir." He glanced into the back seat, which was indeed somewhat crowded. "Where to, sir?"

Earl leaned back in the car seat. "Home," he decided. "We have information to gather and plans to make."

Blasto, after all, was not on the same scale as the Merchants had been. With his genetic creations, he was potentially much worse.

As the car moved off, Earl allowed himself a slight smile.

Finally, a real challenge.

End of Part Fourteen