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Graphic Depictions Of Violence

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Exalted (Roleplaying Game)Parahumans Series - WildbowWorld of Darkness (Games)Mage: The AscensionWerewolf: The ApocalypseVampire: The MasqueradeChangeling: the DreamingDemon: The Fallen

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FriendshipAlternate UniverseSlice of LifeCrossoverBody HorrorMartial ArtsMind ControlDemonsCanon-Typical ViolenceReverse Isekai and TransmigrationAlternate Universe - World of Darkness (Games) SettingPost-Time Skip

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Published:2025-08-22Updated:2025-09-01Words:101,443Chapters:12/?Comments:4Kudos:14Bookmarks:7Hits:1,573

Allegedly a Villain in Brockton Bay: a Tale From The Broken-Winged Crane

tyrant_raksha

Chapter 4: Meet The Lawyers

Chapter Text

Quinn Calle, as a rule, did not take on cases where there was a risk of the client being unable to pay his not-insignificant fees. Making that risk assessment over the phone was his usual modus operandi, but this case was so weird he came in person. Were he not already in Brockton Bay, he wouldn't have bothered, however, he'd just finished a case a day early, and otherwise had nothing pressing to do that afternoon.

He walked into the offices set aside at the Protectorate HQ for his meeting. It was a little unusual, given that criminal cases were almost always at the PRT facilities across the bay, but he wasn't going to complain about getting to walk around the impressively high-tech building.

Within the corridor, PRT staff and Vista stood guarding the doors he was traveling towards. He flashed them a toothy grin and his visitor badge. The ward looked like she was almost falling asleep standing up. The nearest PRT member walked over and scanned his badge.

"Mr. Calle, per anti-Brute protocols, we have a squad on standby in the hallway. Your client-attorney privilege will be respected, but for safety reasons, please familiarize yourself with the locations of the red buttons in the conference room. Pressing any of them will raise an alert with both our squad and Dispatch that you are in need of intervention. Be aware that you are not to make physical contact with the brute for safety reasons, and you will need to report to Decontamination on your way out of the building. Do you have any questions at this time?"

"No. I've been here before, and you all know that."

Vista walked over, unhappily. "When you're finally ready for the meeting, let me know, and I'll call everyone in."

"Everyone? Who is everyone?"

"Uh… Director Piggot, Armsmaster, Dragon, some PRT staff and lawyers, a guy from Customs, Gallant, Brandish, and myself."

"Excellent, thank you Vista." he said. It was anything but excellent… Brandish, or Carol Dalton was an unwelcome addition, more or less his opposite number, New Wave's famous Cape lawyer that worked almost entirely with heroes and rogues. The Director and Dragon being there was a bad sign too.

He walked in. Before him were two mutant-looking parahumans. His client was supposed to be the green guy. It was weird seeing him sitting there eating bagels without an apparent care in the world. If he was really some kind of supervillain, Quinn would have expected a bit more … gravitas. No mask, no shirt, no shoes, and none of that cultivated posturing that so many villains practiced. The only visible clothing were the pair of tattered jeans he wore, and a ruined jacket in a crumpled heap on the floor near his feet.

Next to the green 'brute' was supposed to be the woman he'd talked to on the phone. She was purple, and looked like someone's strange idea of an alien barbie doll. She wore a dress that was clearly too small for her, and it clung to her in ways that were distracting.

"Mister Quinn Calle?" she asked in a pleasant tone.

He pulled out a wide grin for her. "I am indeed. Now, based on what you've said about not being able to make a deposit or retainer, I've got 15 minutes I'm willing to work pro bono, to give you an estimate of my costs. Lets begin with introductions and what immediate need you have for a lawyer."

"Very well, this is His Grace, Lintha Sennong Dictator Admiral-of-Admirals Grandfather Joyful Fluttering Locust Mariner, Green Sun Prince and Peer of the Thing Infernal, Sherden Caste and Favored by Metagaos and Cecelyne, Surgeon-General and Plaguemaster of the Reclamation, Conqueror of An-Teng, He-Who-Waits Demiurgos of The Order of the Locust, and The Tide That Drowns Cities and Swallows Gods."

Quinn almost choked on his coffee.

"I am his neomah translator. He has not seen fit to grant me a name."

"Tell me you are serious!"

"Dimensional Travelers, yes."

"Dimensional Travelers that speak perfect English?"

"I have been summoned here before, English is a common tongue on Earth Bet."

"Ahh… summoned?..." Quinn rubbed his head. "You're asking for me to accept an awful lot. Let's say I believe you, because you're cutting into your pro bono time. What do you need from me?"

"My Lord has been stranded here, after he was deposed in a recent bloody coup. He was nearly burned alive, and is effectively in exile. My understanding of your nation's laws is limited, but I am under the impression that he would qualify for asylum."

"I see, and he is a cape?"

"Uh… yes?"

"You're not sure?"

"He has powers. He sparred with Glory Girl a few hours ago, at the Director's request."

"He is a cape. Did he introduce himself as a 'Dictator' to the Director?"

"That's right."

"Hmm…" the latino rubbed his mustache. "Then they're within their rights to classify him as a Foreign Villain, should he apply to enter the country. That gives them a lot of leeway that normal citizens don't need to worry about. Last question before I start charging: how much can you pay, given that there's no deposit or retainer?"

The green man finally joined the conversation, after hearing that translated question. His response was: "Drugs, Medicine, or the fruits of the sea."

"You still use the barter system?"

The response was translated as, "At times; I doubt this world trades on jade talents. My golden crown did not survive the journey. It burned with the rest of my palace. All I can offer is what I can call from nothing."

"My base price is $100k for weird cases."

The two conferred in their strange language, and the green man counted on his fingers, like an abacus. "My Lord recognizes this amount, and could provide it within two weeks of the end of services. Do you accept payment in gold bullion?"

"What kind of professional do you take me for?" Quinn replied with a real toothy grin. "Of course I do."

---

Vista had been awake for about 20 hours by the time that the conference room finally filled up with all of the attendees for the meeting. Since there was no emergency, there was no one to relieve her until her supervisors decided one way or another where this green Brute would wind up. She was stuck there, waiting and wishing she hadn't drank so much coffee on an empty stomach.

The conference room was cleanly divided between the left and right halves of the table. On the left, the green Brute, his weird (now clothed) purple translator, and his lawyer Quinn. Opposite them, filling the table and spilling into standing-room only, the bigwigs of the local PRT and Protectorate, over twenty in all if you included their entourages. Guards ringed the room, per protocol, including herself and the local Wards. Glory Girl was absent; Missy tried not to think about the complex feelings she had over trying to defend her rival and sometimes-bully from the Brute.

Her hands had been shaking since, but it wasn't clear to her if it was too much caffeine or something deeper.

Before she realized it, the introductions had already passed. Brandish and Quinn both seemed to be trying to win a staring contest over who would begin their proposals first. Across the room, she could see Gallant biting his lip nervously. It must suck being an empath in a room full of lawyers, especially given how Brandish stomped into the room like she was out for blood. For all Missy knew, she very well might be, given what the green Brute in front of her had done to her daughter just hours before.

Piggot stepped in, "Quinn, I have things to do. Your client has admitted to being both a foreign dictator as well as having powers in front of several witnesses; almost the textbook definition of a Super Villain. Do you even have a reason why we should consider letting him into the country without a travel visa or passport? If not, I suggest that you get him on a boat and out of US territorial waters ASAP."

The lawyer looked back at her calmly, taking it in stride. "Director, it's so thoughtful of you to make it clear on the official record that you have acknowledged in front of witnesses that my client is a Dictator."

Piggot pursed her lips.

"As befitting a recognized head of state. My client seeks political asylum."

Piggot raised an eyebrow. "Under what grounds?"

"There has been a violent coup in An-Teng. My client is the Government In Exile."

Brandish scoffed. "That's ridiculous! You have no proof that such a place even exists!"

"My client is prepared to summon as many… demons… from his realm that can corroborate his accounts as you might require."

Armsmaster leaned in, interrupting. "Summon demons? What in hells name are you talking about?"

The purple woman leaned in. "Indeed sir, I apologize I did not introduce myself more clearly earlier. I am of the Neomah, the Makers of Flesh; progeny of Berengiere, the Weaver of Voices; and Indulgent Soul of Ligier, the Green Sun; and Fetich Soul of Malfeas, the Demon City. We Neomah are Demons of The First Circle, we are something between sacred prostitutes and midwives."

The room was silent, and then Armsmaster started laughing. "I take it back, Director Piggot, I don't want him anymore. He's obviously crazy!" He snorted. "Demons and magic! Ha! I'd sooner believe Glaistig Uaine about her damned fairies than I would about demons!"

The neomah glared daggers at him. "Do not insult My Lord, nor the name of the King of The Primordials! You need not believe in sorcery nor demons for them to be real."

Dragon placed a hand on Armsmaster. "I don't believe this is a productive direction of conversation. The details of how his powers work are not what we are all here to discuss. Director, is it sufficient evidence that the Dictator is willing to call up more witnesses if your investigations require it?"

Piggot looked at the PRT lawyers, but not at either Brandish nor Armsmaster. They nodded, she nodded. "Based on circumstantial evidence we are willing to believe it until we have performed a more thorough investigation. But be aware, Quinn, that your client will have the book thrown at him if he attempts to defraud us on this matter. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, Director."

"Piggot, I object!" shouted Brandish.

"Your objection is noted, Brandish, and for now I will remind you that you are here at our invitation."

"Director... " the white-clad Hero continued.

"We were discussing Government In Exile status were we not?" supplied Dragon, helpfully, as she kept Armsmaster on a short leash.

"Indeed." replied Quinn. "My client was recently driven from his Palace in the Capitol, and is in de facto exile. There are several precedents for exiled Heads of State acting as the Government In Exile to seek refugee status and official political asylum within neutral countries. My client is requesting this status, and is entitled to it under several international treaties, even without a visa nor passport."

"Within this country, and other signatories of the international accords involving the regulation of parahumans, we are given priority over the classification of parahumans. Should we rule him a Foreign Super Villain, he would be barred from legally entering the US, as well as any of the other signatory countries."

"My client is a refugee in the most literal sense of the word, and is unable to return to his place of origin in the literal sense of being unable to travel dimensions. As well, if he should return there, he would likely face an almost immediate threat to his life. Per your suggestion, he would be unable to find reasonable safe harbor outside of this country."

Armsmaster interrupted again, this time looking shocked and disappointed. "What do you mean he is unable to travel dimensions?"

The neomah translated his response. "His Grace informs me that he arrived in that location due to a partially failed materialization, and has no way to reproduce the effect."

"But he can 'summon' you 'demons' can he not? How is that not Dimensional Travel?"

"It is by the grace of Cecelyne, The Endless Desert that I am able to travel at all, sir; and Kimbery, The Demon Sea that I was able to find My Lord when he called. His Grace is no demon, and thus cannot be summoned like one."

"Oh… more 'magic', how convenient! You are both clearly crazy, making up such detailed lies." Armsmaster mocked, clearly channeling his annoyance at losing direct access to the secrets of dimensional travel, despite having earlier petitioned the Director for that very reason.

The neomah held up her hands, pleadingly. "Just this once, I will not translate your insults. Consider yourself warned, do not mock the Yozi! Mocking the Great Mother of the Lintha is foolish enough, but if My Lord hears you take the name of his Great Mother in vain, you should hope he is in good humor, and does not take it upon himself to educate you as only a Lintha Sherridan could."

Armsmaster got up and left, spitting his words out like they tasted bad. "This is stupid, I don't know how, but I'm sure this brute is conning you all, and I won't be a part of it."

Dragon almost moved to follow him. Vista couldn't figure out why (Armsmaster was always such a dick, not worth the attention of the kind Dragon), but mentally filed it away for when she wasn't dead on her feet.

"Like I was saying... " continued Quinn. "My client would qualify for asylum under several grounds that could be pursued for arbitration in any one of several international courts. Such a thing would be a great waste of time however. Would you not agree?"

Brandish nodded, and inclined her head. "Do you have an alternative proposal for your Dictator?"

The purple neomah nodded. "His Grace suggests cooperation. This world has organizations of those with power who serve the public as a kind of noblesse oblige. This is new and interesting to him. To quote him directly, 'I have found no lasting satisfaction in conquering'. By his largesse, the public could benefit from his presence."

Brandish shook her head. "By all accounts, your Dictator is naught but a Brute with some minor wide-scale illusion powers."

The neomah hesitated. "Do you really want me to tell him that?" she said, looking conflicted.

"I don't rightly care what you tell him. I am not scared of someone who shows off by choking a teenage girl in front of a crowd."

The neomah turned and conveyed the words of Glory Girl's mother to the brute. This green skin shone with emerald iridescence in the lights, and his silver facial piercings glinted in the overhead light. His ruby-red eyes turned to consider the woman before him. She wore her white and orange-trimmed consume, with a half-mask concealing her eyes.

He began to speak directly to her, and his translator hurried to keep pace with him. "I see, you are the mother of the girl I fought with earlier, no?"

She nodded, glaring at him with distrust.

"It is only appropriate for a mother to guard her precious child from the violence of a stranger. Good. If you demand a blood feud, I will acknowledge your right with respect. Can it wait until after this meeting?"

Brandish's hands shook, and a thin sharp shiv of hard light formed in her palm. "Are you mocking me?"

The green brute's red eyes widened with wary familiarity with the glowing weapon. He stepped back, knocking his seat down behind him. His words were frantically translated. "Do you draw forth a Glorious Solar Saber in peace negotiations with a Green Sun Prince?"

"Please! Both of you stop!" shouted Dragon.

Piggot nodded and motioned at the brute-suppression squad. Vista suddenly found herself moving towards the conflict, before she could think better of it.

Quinn stepped in. "I would like to note for the official record that Brandish drew a weapon. My client has done nothing but back away and knock over a chair."

The neomah stood before her master, pleading with him in their foreign tongue. She eventually turned with her back to him, and she elaborated for him. "His Grace knows well the touch of the golden flames and shining blades of the Usurpers. Come closer at your own peril, Miss Brandish!"

Vista and Gallant went to stand next to the green brute. The man's exotic features showed an almost-fear that Vista was sure Gallant knew in depth. Vista shouted at him and Brandish, "God, would both of you calm down! Brandish, your daughter gave as good as she got in that fight! Weird green guy, I am too tired to deal with this shit! You are keeping me up, and I will dump you in the Bay if you don't chill out!"

Piggot's jaw dropped. Gallant stopped and stared at her. Quinn and the neomah both moved to replace the brute at the table. For his part, the green brute chuckled.

"His Grace accepts your wisdom beyond your age, Miss Vista. And, Miss Brandish, he accepts your declaration of a blood feud. I hope you know what you are getting into; Lintha customary vendettas do not translate well into English." She turned to address the lawyers, "Now, His Grace's patience is not limitless, if we could continue?"

Quinn and the PRT lawyers (excluding Brandish) worked for two hours to hash out the details of Locust Mariner's deal with the PRT/Protectorate. In short, though he was the head of state of a Government in Exile, and thus exempt from most laws in the US via Diplomatic Immunity, he was only permitted that recognition on the condition that he sign an employment contract with the Brockton Bay Protectorate as a 'Permanent Special Probationary Protectorate Membership for Highest-Risk Rogues or Former Villains'.

In place of the normal laws and supervision by police, the Protectorate and PRT would oversee him as a special high-risk employee. He would not be allowed even as much freedom as the Wards were, though he would technically be a 'hero' he would be watched like he would attempt to betray his allies at the first possible chance.

He would be required to maintain his primary residence within approved facilities only, and would only be permitted to leave the grounds with escorts. Should he be found to have willfully violated any normal laws, the police could lodge complaints with the PRT. While the contract was clear on exactly how hard it was to fully kick him out of the country, it was equally clear that Piggot fully intended to make his life a living hell if he made too much trouble.

The only catch Locust Mariner had managed to insert into the contract (with the language barrier limiting his otherwise remarkable negotiating skills from a lifetime of working as a merchant, supplemented with both Greed Without Restraint and Price-of-Everything Undercurrents) was that he could not be compelled to serve the PRT or Protectorate (not that Impervious Primacy Mantle would even allow such a thing), they could only request his help and cooperation. If he did not cooperate, they were not required to feed him; he was given leave to forage, hunt, fish, garden, grow crops, or farm, so long as he did not violate any laws while doing so. Quinn managed to wrangle that, but at the cost of Piggot's lawyers getting a clause promising his automatic aid if an Endbringer-level threat was imminent, and he was otherwise close enough to respond.

As well, they did not wind up granting Mariner any form of pay, other than room and board. Indeed, if he wanted to enter into contracts with people living in the US or other signatory nations, he would need to have the Protectorate and PRT not only co-sign with him, but any such co-signed contracts needed to designate them (not Mariner) as the holders of any payment or property in Trust. Being a Government in Exile, he was exempt from fiscal oversight via the IRS, but the Trust clauses removed many loopholes for 'high risk former villains'.

Locust Mariner did not know what an Endbringer was, but could not argue against it without losing hours of negotiation. His translator made it sound like a Behemoth. It sounded unlikely enough to him that such a thing would occur that he agreed to the terms without complaint.

The notion occurred to him that he absolutely could not play by the rules. He wanted to start over. He wanted family and friends, the kind that loved and respected him without mind control or coercion. He wanted wealth… enough that no one, not even his minders could force him back to where he was now. Even the many legalisms of Cecelyne he could invoke would likely backfire as soon as someone realized his capabilities.

Deep within, his soul stirred.

{{Motivation Set: To be loved and respected by real friends and family.; Metgaoiyn Urge Set:To Become Wealthy And Affluent Beyond Reproach.}}

If he was going to own this city, he would need to be careful. If they knew him as he truly was, they would burn him from their lands like the blight he was. Restraint was hard, and denying himself denied the source of his powers. But, it was worth losing most of his powers if he could accomplish his goals without them. If nothing else, this world of paper tigers was entirely too fragile to either withstand nor require his full power. It wouldn't do to break his toys. Besides, he would have to kill the witnesses, if things got out of hand, and how would he explain that? Thank the Yozi that his neomah had warned him about cameras.

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