“Yes,” Marquis said.

“The motherfucker has a kid?” Lightstar muttered the question, as if to himself.  “And she’s, what,  five?”

Timeframes! That would put this event at about 11-12 years ago.

“Six,” Marquis answered.

10-11, sorry.

Six.  Vicky’s age, then.  She looks younger.

Did they adjust her age down to make things harder to track? That would explain why Marquis says she’s seventeen and Amy says she’s sixteen. Though “it’s shortly before her birthday and Marquis didn’t know that” would explain it almost as well.

“She’ll go to her mother,” Lady Photon decided.

Dead? Missing?

“Her mother’s gone, I’m afraid.  The big C.  Amelia and I were introduced shortly after that.

Ouch.

About a year ago, now that I think on it.  I must admit, I’ve enjoyed our time together more than I’ve enjoyed all my crimes combined.  Quite surprising.”

So that would be why the Brigade didn’t notice this whole thing long ago. For example by realizing Marquis was taking time off from evil to take care of a baby.

His daughter, Brandish thought.  The resemblance was uncanny.  The nose was different, the brow, but she was her father’s daughter.

The idea disturbed her.

FUCK.

Amy felt like Carol didn’t really like her that much, or something along those lines. This is why. Amy looks like her father, and her father’s looks reminded Carol of her trigger event, so Amy’s looks do the same thing by extension.

Damn, that stings.

Marquis chuckled.  “You could say that.  The most precious treasure in the world.”

No, seriously, this response is even more perfect if Amy was an “illegitimate child”.

“Somehow I missed the news report where you stole that,” Lady Photon replied.

I like the dramatic irony in this scene. We the readers know what Marquis was protecting, and it makes him seem a lot more human here than he does to the Brigade.

It also allows for lines like this one.

“Stole?  No.  It would be better to say a devoted fan and follower gave her to me.”

Ahaha, nice.

“Her?”  Brandish asked.  But Lady Photon was already reaching for the door, pulling it open.

A girl.  A child, not much younger than Vicky.  The girl was brown hair, freckle-faced, and clutched a silk pillow to her chest.  She wore a silk nightgown with lace at the collar and sleeves.

Aww, little babby Amy.

It looked expensive for something a child would wear.

Nothing less for Marquis’ precious little.

She let him fall, and then pressed the sword to his throat.  If he gave her an excuse, she would finish him.

Take a deep breath.

She stared down at him.  That long hair, it was such a minor thing, but there was something else about him that stirred that distant, dark memory of the lightless room and the failed attempt at ransom.

Ah, fuck. Whether he actually was involved back then or he just happens to remind her of it, this isn’t good. For him.

Her skin crawled, and she felt anger boiling in her gut.

It took some time for the others to recover, getting their bearings and ensuring their wounds weren’t too serious.

“What were you so intent on protecting?” Manpower asked.  “This where you stash your illegitimate gains?”

…maybe. Was he married to Amy’s mother?

Marquis surrounded himself in plates of bone that resembled the petals of a flower blooming in reverse, and sank into the ground.

Here he goes again. And he’s got style when he does it, too!

Any other day, Brandish would have followed him into the room below.  A wine cellar, it seemed.

So what’s different this time?

Instead, she turned and charged for the closet, creating a sword out of the crackling energy her power provided, slashing through the plates of bone that had surrounded it, then drawing the blade back to thrust through the wooden door-

Oh, she’s checking out what he was defending.

Or rather, whom.

Marquis emerged between her and the closet door.  She plunged the sword into his shoulder without hesitation.

Oh, hi there. Yeah, he really doesn’t want her going in there. And certainly not thrusting her blade in there.

She could smell his flesh burn, the wound cauterized by the same energy that formed the blade.

“Damnation,” Marquis muttered the word, sagging.

Pfft. That’s certainly a way to swear.

So the truth here is that Marquis was defeated not because he wouldn’t hurt women, but because he was protecting Amy at the cost of having to break from his usual tactics.

Let’s finally get back to the bone zone!