Yet Another Way [Worm AU Fanfic]

You're obviously not reading what I have written. Let me see if I can explain it more clearly. Copied from here.

 

But there is someone capable of healing them. Wildbow updated a Google doc of parahumans in Worm.

Here it is https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1pgn9rgYutpBqJg1lSBP3NHnq9WK4ToLq9K4ys_I4cRc/htmlview.

And this guy, Cask produces chemical mixtures with a range of healing, transformative, deleterious and physical/mental altering qualities. Even with limited amounts at a time he can still fix them and is part of the Protectorate.
Tinker 5 Blaster 1 Brute 2* Master 1 Trump 2. His number 69.

 

This is ten years ago.

 

Yes, not attacking women because they were below his station should totally be lauded. Wasn't it mentioned in Marquis' interlude that she threatened some woman's husband/brother with DEATH if she didn't go on a date with him? What a class act.

OUR PROTAGONIST, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN.

 

Nope. My protagonist. This is in Recoil. Not in canon.

 

Fanon. Nothing anywhere to say he considers women to be below his station.

 

Question: Why should they believe Marquis? Sure he says he's ridiculously wealthy and can afford to replace the house, but what if he's lying? That's what criminals do. Even if there was nothing of monetary value in that closet, it might have been something else vital to his organization. With Marquis' rather foul reputation, what reason would they have to think somebody was hiding in the closet? They weren't threatening Amy with lethal attacks, because they didn't know she was there to begin with. And again, it's Marquis. Misogynist galore. Who would actually think an asshole like that would have a child with someone else.

Also, notice you accused Brandish of jumping in front of a killing blow aimed at Manpower. Here's where this part of your argument falls apart: killing blow. He was trying to kill Manpower. The Brigade, on the other hand, were not. Marquis was at their mercy, and they spared him.

Finally, you keep saying that he was better than Allfather. Citation needed. What's to say that Allfather wasn't like his portrayal in Speak With the Dead, where he's actually damn charismatic and likeable. Who's to say he doesn't treat white people like Marquis does women? How are they any different in that case?

Or maybe, you could accept that Marquis was one-third of the "bad old days" and not try to treat him any better than Allfather. He was sent to the Birdcage, long before society went to shit enough for something like the Canary fiasco to happen.

Okay, I can accept that. As long as you make it clear that this is a non-canon, whitewashed Marquis. Because when I'm reading a fanfic, I expect people to act the same unless told otherwise.

I thought you were defending canon Marquis. Please make it more apparent that you're not using canon versions of your character(s).

Also, I didn't read too far into Recoil before dropping it, because it wasn't interesting to me. I never got to your Marquis.



And godDAMN I'm tired. I'm gonna get some sleep. I have a feeling that I'm being unusually abrasive right now. I'll take another look at this in a few hours, see if I think it's too confrontational.

 

Ragnarok What if he's lying? He's the crime lord of one of the three big gangs of the time in BB. I'd be really surprised if he wasn't that wealthy.

 

True. He might still be a Ward. They could pay the King of Cups his a healer and part of the Suits. Also known as the UK's PRT team. He should be around. And he was at least as old as Marquis. He could at least fix their limbs.

 

Ack at this point Ragnarok won't stop until you rewrite the story to his specific morality which is apparently canon so just ignore him and he'll go away since he has no intention to actually read the story....and if he does keep it up just report him.

 

Because he doesn't, as a rule. He has his rules and sticks to them. You will note that he does not lie once, the whole encounter. And if they know his real identity, they'll know how wealthy he is. None of them call him on that. Reason? He's a ridiculously wealthy crime lord.

Yeah, no, you're totally correct. It could've been a bomb. A canister of deadly poison gas. Any number of other things that don't go well with lethal attacks. The point is that a) they didn't know she was there because they didn't bother to find out who else might be in the house. You know, the sensible thing to do when going to attack the crime lord. And b) Sending a highly dangerous attack at something that you're not aware of the nature of, in a world where Tinker contraptions and other things like that exist, is the height of fucking stupidity.

The Brockton Bay Brigade were criminally negligent in their actions, in their investigation, and it shows.

Cite. Where, anywhere in canon, is he ever described as being a misogynist? Answer? Nowhere. Because he wasn't. Stop using fanon as fact. It belittles you.

Hah. Bullshit. He wasn't trying to kill Manpower. He was distracting him. Manpower's shield could take the blow.

Marquis could have done far more to Lightstar (spike through throat instead of shoulder) and Flashbang (more than just a broken foot) than he did. He was going easy on them.

Ah, yeah, let's see.

Marquis was winning, but stopped his attack so that she would not be hurt. So that she would not be hurt. So how does she repay this care toward her wellbeing?
Oh, wait.

Translation: all she needs is any sort of half-assed justification, and she will murder the man who pulled a killing blow so that she would not be harmed.

Hero? BULL. SHIT.

Because the Empire Eighty-Eight does specifically target people because of their skin colour, no matter whether they are young, old, male, female. They are racist fucking pricks.

I'll say it again; they beat up and kill people because of their skin colour.

And as for what's to say Allfather isn't like this or that? Because canon does not say so. You can wave someone else's fanfic around, but it doesn't impact on canon.

He was sent to jail because of his crimes, yes. Leaving Galvanate (who was also Birdcaged), Allfather (died), and the Teeth (left Brockton Bay) ... yeah, given that he was recognised to be a 'civilised man', even by Brandish ... yes, I actually do say he was better than them all.

Nope. Sorry. Gonna have to figure it out yourself. Because in my post above? I'm the one supplying all the cites. You're the one supplying all the fanon.

Address: 1) the Brigade's failure to realise that there was a child living in the house, 2) their rampant stupidity in throwing around wall-penetrating attacks when they had no idea who or what was on the other side of said walls, and 3) the hypocrisy of a bunch of people who use a villain's redeeming quality to beat him, and I'll take you seriously. Until then, .... nope.

What makes you think it isn't canon? Because I can defend every action, every attitude, with a citation. Unlike your own statements.

So cite where you got that so-called incident from? Because I can tell you now, it never came from canon.

Also, note: Amy's mother came back to him and gave him Amy when she was dying. Not her own family. Him. That shows a certain amount of faith in him.

Signs point to yes.

 

Except that there is still the fact that there was apparently nobody capable of healing those capes crippled in Endbringer attacks back to normal. Until Panacea, of course.

 

No one that can regrow limbs yes or could do it in the same timeframe she does. Amy was an super healer others all had stupid limits and generally were useless except for certain conditions.

 

Strictly speaking that can't be entirely known, it's possible that there was one in the past after all but they're dead now, possibly even related to the reasons for that. That said based off the damage described you'd need a really powerful healer to fix them, from the sounds of things the only way to really fix it would likely involve basically replacing most if not all of their skeleton and musculature and that's really high level healing. The rest of their body should be relatively intact, some peripheral organs such as the skin, eyes, and tongue could be seriously damaged but most of the important stuff would have to be relatively intact.

 

Here I am wondering how Marquis managed to do that 'body art' piece without killing the BBB from shock, shifting the bones, adding more and stuff like that could cause a shitload of shock and trauma, especially that "The eyes don't even face the same way anymore.' part of it.

PS: For shit and giggles, Marquis would be capable of doing some rather impressive bone art stuff, you know like pendants, sculptures and so on, those can fetch a nice penny, specially since he might be capable of giving teeth like enamel on the finished stuff.

 

No one could fully heal all the capes crippled in Endbringer fights. But I'm sure there wouldn't be so many people at the fights if no one could fix the cripples.

 

It's completely up to Ack whether there are capes capable of any decent healing at this point. There is no evidence either way.

 

The following:

seems to indicate that a) the Good Samaritan clause doesn't affect Endbringer battles, and b) there's not enough healers willing or able to fix the sort of injuries you get from an Endbringer battle.

Until Panacea, of course.

 

Ack

Just out of curiosity, Ack, do you know what my 'Watched Threads' list looks like?

Half of Page Two and Nearly *ALL* of Page Three is filled with your fics. They're also scattered across the next three as well.

I'm not exactly *complaining,* given that everything you write is really awesome, but... My poor free time.

Stay Awesome.

 

I have just one question. Is Brandish the tomb Amelia is in?

 

Yes.

 

Sweet capricious Eris! Well that's killing two birds with one stone...

 

Man, this is amazing, but brutal and dark as fuck. I look forward to more.

 

Yet Another Way

Part Two: Family Matters


2003

Marcus Raymond, supervillain and father, paused in the doorway to the living room. Crystal was reading a book on the sofa, while Vicky sat on the floor, leaning up against the sofa to watch some show on TV. In the meantime, Eric lay on the carpet, colouring in a picture with rather more enthusiasm than accuracy. Marcus cleared his throat, then waited until each of them had looked around.

“What's up, Dad?” asked Crystal.

“Has any of you seen my newspaper?” he asked. “I left it on the desk in my study.”

“Oh,” nine-year old-Vicky blurted, looking embarrassed. “I took it to do the crossword. I know how you hate it when we take pages out of it. It's in my room. I''ll go get it now.” She jumped to her feet.

“Thank you, Victoria,” he replied dryly, stepping aside to let her pass. “Next time, ask permission to go in there, all right?”

“Okay,” she called back over her shoulder as she took the stairs two at a time. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Slow down,” he called after her. “It's only a newspaper.”

“Uh, sorry about that, Dad,” Crystal offered. “Vicky asked me where it was. I didn't know she'd go in there and get it.”

“As if the three of you don't sneak into my study from time to time,” he replied with a raised eyebrow, seating himself on the end of the sofa. “I don't go into your bedrooms without asking permission first. Is it too much to ask for you to do me the same courtesy for my study?”

“But there's so much interesting stuff in there,” Eric interjected. “Skulls an' books an' pictures an' all sorts of stuff.”

“Which is my stuff,” Marcus pointed out. “How would you like it if I went into your room and started digging through your private stuff?”

Eric dropped his eyes and mumbled something.

“I beg your pardon?” asked Marcus politely.

“I wouldn't like it,” mumbled the boy, a little more clearly.

“And so.” Marcus tilted his head. “I don't mind you coming in there. Just please, ask permission first. Best if you ask me when I'm in there already. That way, I can tell you about some of the things I have.”

A junior-sized elephant thundered down the stairs and Vicky dashed back into the room, a little flushed. In her hand, she clutched the errant newspaper. “Here you are, Dad,” she panted. “Sorry.”

He accepted it from her, but didn't take his eye from her. “Thank you for the paper. As I said, next time, please ask permission to go into my study. And to take the paper, if it's there.”

Eyes downcast, she nodded. “Okay, Dad.”

“Good girl.” He smiled slightly, and swatted her lightly on the rear with the folded paper. “And I know you kids are young and have all the energy in the world, but do me a favour and try not to run quite so much inside the house, all right? You've got an enormous back yard and a swimming pool to work off all that energy in.”

This time, it was a chorus from all three of them. “Yes, Dad.”

“Good.” He smiled. “So, I was thinking we could spend tomorrow on the Boardwalk, then go to the movies in the evening. Why don't you put your heads together and decide what you'd like to see?”

That got an enthusiastic response, and the three children began discussing the choices with a considerable amount of animation. He was pleased to note, as he settled down in his favourite chair to read the paper, that they weren't actually arguing; that after even just a few years of his influence, they were able to debate a point in a logical and mature fashion. Except, of course, for Eric's tendency to state stubbornly, 'But I like it!'; however, the lad was still only seven. He would learn.

He was very fond of Eric, as he was of the two girls. Where he had at first thought that he could never take to another child, they had eased their way into his heart. Originally, his taking in the children of the Brockton Bay Brigade had been a self-imposed duty as well as a take-that to the surviving members; he would raise the children better than they ever could. But it had become much more than that; as they grew used to him as their foster father, they had opened up to him. And his heart had opened up to them in return.

They will never take the place of my Amelia. But I feel that I am beginning to love them. I will raise them as well as I know how.

“Uh, Dad?”

He raised his eyes from the paper; Crystal was sitting up on the sofa. Eric and Vicky were still deep in discussion over the movie choices.

“Yes?” he asked.

“Can I talk to you about boys?”

That got his attention. He folded the paper and put it down. “Yes, you can.” Oh god, what do you want to know?

Her eyes flicked sideways to her siblings, who were absorbed in their debate. “Can we talk … somewhere else?”

“Oh, yes.” He got up. “I think the back patio would be a good idea.”

<><>​

He settled himself on to one of the patio chairs, and waited until she was comfortable in another. “So,” he began, steeling himself as any father would, “what is it that you want to know?”

She seemed to want to look anywhere but at him. “What if there was a boy at school that I liked, and I think he likes me?”

“Crystal,” he replied, trying to keep his tone patient. “You're eleven years old. You shouldn't even be noticing boys at your age.”

“I'll be twelve in two months,” she protested.

“Still too young,” he maintained.

Taking a deep breath, she faced up to him. “But what if I am noticing him?”

With the feeling of a man finding his way through a quicksand bog, he nodded. “Okay, so does this hypothetical boy have a name?”

“Uh … “ For a moment, he could tell that she was considering a lie, but then she discarded it and met his eyes. In doing so, she raised herself another notch in his estimation. “Yes, Dad. His name's Jimmy Leyland. He's really nice.”

Jimmy Leyland. For a moment, he felt the urge to go and locate this boy and have a stern talk with him. The sort of stern talk that has the phrase 'blast radius' attached to it. But he suppressed it; Crystal liked the boy, and so he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

“So what do you want to know?” he asked. Not the Talk, he begged silently. Please not the Talk. He had done many things in his life, things that would cause strong men to run screaming into the night, but that particular task made him cringe just by thinking about it.

She swallowed nervously. Oh good, she's just as scared of this topic as I am. “I was just wondering … what's the best way of telling him that I like him?”

He blinked. “What?”

Gathering courage, she went on. “I like him. I think he likes me. How do I tell him? If I try to do it at school, there's kids all around, and I'm scared of being laughed at. Should I text him? Send him an email?”

Finally, Marcus was on familiar ground. “No. Neither of those.” He shook his head. “Sending someone a text to tell them that you like them is about the least romantic way to do it.”

“Then what should I do?”

“I suggest that you write him a letter.”

She looked puzzled. “But you just said that I shouldn't use email.”

“No, I meant letter as in actual pen and paper. On good paper stock. Something where you can take your time writing it, and think about what you want to say. Then you put it in an envelope, and put a stamp on it, and mail it to him. The old-fashioned way.”

“But that'll take days to get to him!”

“Which is why you take your time thinking about what you want to say to him.” Marcus shrugged. “Are you going to feel any differently about him in a week's time?”

“No.” Her expression was firm. “I won't.” She took a deep breath. “Can you help me write it?”

He let out an amused snort. “No. But I'll look it over after you've finished, if you want. Unless you're thinking of saying something really embarrassing in it.”

From the look on her face, she was just now realising that what she had to say might indeed be embarrassing, if read by the wrong person. “I, uh, maybe I'll be okay.”

He tilted his head. “All right, then. I'd suggest that you write out a draft on ordinary paper, then I can give you some good writing paper to do the final copy on.”

Her smile lit up her whole face. “Thanks, Dad.” Jumping up, she gave him a swift hug. “I'll go and do that now.”

Her footsteps faded away into the interior of the house; he sat for a few moments, looking out over the back yard. My little girls are growing up. How time flies.

And the ache in his heart was barely a twinge, now. Amelia would have liked them.

<><>​

“Dad, I've finished the draft.”

Marcus looked up from the paper to see Crystal standing in front of him. She held a folded piece of paper in her hand, and was jittering slightly with excitement.

“Good,” he congratulated her. “Now, do you recall the calligraphy lessons?”

“Oh god, I'm not going to write him that fancy a letter,” she protested. “He'll think I'm trying to impress him!”

“Well, aren't you?” he asked mildly, getting up from the chair and folding the paper.

“Yeah, but I don't want him to know it!”

“Well, I suppose,” he agreed. “But you can still write it neatly, and sign your name with a flourish. That should impress him without making it look like you're trying too hard.”

“Maybe you're right,” she conceded, following him into his study. “I still can't do calligraphy like you can.”

“All it takes is a little practice,” he pointed out. Leaning down, he opened a desk drawer and removed a pad of expensive writing stock; the thick creamy paper held a subtle watermark. Along with it, he pulled out his calligraphy set. “Would you like to write it out here or in your room?”

“I'll do it in my room, thanks, Dad,” she replied, accepting the pad and the box of pens. Pausing, she nodded to his desk. “I've been meaning to ask. Who's that?”

He followed her gaze to the gold-framed picture that sat just under the reading lamp, where the light would most readily fall upon it. The girl in the photograph had long brown hair and a brilliant smile; she wore a princess costume, and looked a little younger than Eric. He remembered the day when he presented the costume to her; she had been so excited, so happy to be wearing it. It had been so very worth the money he'd spent to have it custom made for her.

“That's … that was my daughter, Amelia,” he told Crystal quietly. Slowly, he sat down in the chair, his eyes never leaving the picture.

“What … what do you mean, was?” she asked. “Did something happen to her?”

He nodded. “Yes. I … she died. When she was six years old. I loved her very much.”

Impulsively, she put the pad and calligraphy set on the desk, and hugged him. “I'm sorry, Dad. How did it happen?”

He kissed her on the forehead. “It's a sad story, Crystal. Are you sure you're ready to hear it?”

"Yeah, I think so."

“All right then. Get a chair. You might want to sit down for this.”

“Okay, Dad.” She pulled a chair around so that she could sit in front of him, while he leaned back in the chair and contemplated the picture of Amelia.

When he gauged that she was ready, he commenced. “What can you tell me about the Brockton Bay Brigade?”

There was a momentary silence, then Crystal frowned. “Wasn't that our moms and dads, back before?”

"That's correct, yes," Marcus agreed.

“They were superheroes who disappeared or something, a few years ago. When they didn't come back, you adopted us.”

“All of that's true,” Marcus told her, “except for one important part.”

“What part's that?” asked Crystal.

“Well, they said they were superheroes,” Marcus observed, “and people thought they were superheroes, and for the most part they did good things. But sometimes they didn't do the right thing. They were careless and irresponsible with their powers. People got hurt. And sometimes, people got killed.”

“What – what do you mean, Dad?” asked Crystal. Her eyes darted to the photograph. “Did they -”

Slowly, he nodded. “I'm afraid so, Crystal.”

“What happened?”

“Three years ago,” Marcus told her. “The Brockton Bay Brigade came to my home and attacked me. Amelia was with me. She was killed in the attack.”

"You?" Crystal's eyes were wide, now. "Why did they attack you?"

He sighed, and took her hands in his. "Because they decided that I was a bad man, sweetpea. People called me a supervillain, so they attacked me. Over and over again. And I beat them, over and over again. But then they found out where I lived and came to attack me at home."

"And Amelia got killed."

"Yes. When they attacked the house, I hid her in a closet. But one of their attacks nearly hit the closet, so I protected it. They saw that, so they attacked the closet to distract me. I wasn't able to stop them in time." His eyes dropped. "She died in my arms."

Crystal got out of her chair and hugged him fiercely. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I never knew."

"It's not your fault, honey," he replied, returning the hug. "It never was your fault. That's why I took you children in. So that you didn't have to suffer for what your parents did."

"I always thought they were superheroes, not villains." Her eyes were full of tears. "They lied to us."

"They didn't lie," he told her. "They just didn't tell you the whole truth."

"That's the same as lying," she retorted, then she paused. "What happened then?"

"What happened when?"

"After that." She was obviously uncomfortable with referring to Amelia's death. "What happened?"

"Oh. I ... I was very angry, of course. So I made sure they couldn't hurt anyone ever again."

Her eyes were wide. "Did you ... kill them?"

He shook his head. "No ... well, not all of them. Just the one who killed my little girl. The others ... I punished them. Then I made sure they went to a place where they couldn't hurt anyone."

“Did you ... did you put them in the Birdcage?"

Marcus shook his head. “No, they're not in the Birdcage. They're in Philadelphia, to be precise.”

Crystal looked confused. “What are they doing there?”

“They're in a place where they can think about exactly what they did wrong,” he replied steadily. “In the meantime, I'm taking care of you because they can't.”

"Wait a minute ... if they thought you were a supervillain, and you were able to punish them ... who are you?"

"Haven't you figured it out yet?" he asked. "You're a bright girl. There's a clue, right there in my name."

She frowned, concentrating in thought. "Marcus ... Mark ... " Her eyes went wide again. "Marquis?"

Solemnly, he nodded. "That's me."

"But nobody's heard from him, I mean you, in the last three years either." She stared at him. "Did you lose your powers or something when you fought the Brigade?"

He noted the use of 'Brigade' rather than 'mom and dad', and was heartened. "No. My powers are still as strong as ever." To demonstrate, he held out his hand. A bone-white rose grew from his palm; he snapped it off and gave it to her, concealing the stab of pain that resulted.

Wonderingly, she examined it. "But ... if you have your powers ... ?"

"I decided to learn from my mistakes. I can't be a father and a public supervillain at the same time, not without putting you at risk. What happened to Amelia taught me that. So I stopped."

"You ... you did that for us?" Unspoken were the words The children of your enemies?

Reaching out, he placed his hand on her shoulder. "I took you in from duty, but it has become more than that. You children are more important than anything else in the world to me. I will never allow any of you to come to harm. I promise."

Again, her arms were wrapped around him. "Thank you."

His heart swelled in his chest as he returned the embrace, his arms enfolding the slender body of his adopted daughter. He wanted to hold her forever, protect her from the world.

"Dad?" Her voice was soft in his ear.

"Yes, honey?"

"I love you, Dad."

He smiled, and gave her a little bit of an extra squeeze. "I love you too, Crystal."

"Thank you, Dad. For everything."

"You're welcome, sweet pea." Gradually, he let her go, and pretended not to notice as she wiped her eyes. After all, he was more than a little misty-eyed himself. "So, about this letter you wanted to write. I've thought of a perfect opening paragraph." Clearing his throat, he assumed a gruff voice. "Dear Jimmy. This is her dad speaking. Watch it, boy. I know where you live."

"Oh, Dad!" She laughed and punched him in the shoulder. "You leave Jimmy alone."

"So long as he leaves you alone," he stated firmly.

"Yeah, okay," she agreed. "Uh, Dad?"

"Yes, honey?"

"Can I tell Vicky and Eric about ... well, the Brigade?"

“Maybe when they're a little older, okay?”

She nodded. “That's probably a good idea. Okay.”


End of Part Two

 

Ah, changes throughout... and domestic bliss. Crystal took this revelation well. Will Marquis end up the father of a superhero team?

 

Mayyybe.

Note that Crystal, along with the others, has more or less accepted him as their father for the last three years. And he's really put his all into being a good father.

 

How utterly diabolical. He must be up to something! /Brandish

 

Marquis vs Kaiser. I want to believe.

 

I don't remember where it was mentioned but didn't Vicky canonically get a bud from her uncle instead of her parents? If that's true any chance of bio-striker Vicky saving the city from criminals?

 

That is a good question. Amelia's shard would have had to go somewhere with her gone.

And then there is also the complication that if one of them does trigger with Amelia's canon power, they would be able to heal/fix the rest of the Brigade. Such a choice to make, especially if it happens when all of them know about what happened.