The Second Archon War: Carmen Dei 25 (Patreon)

Carmen Dei 25: Justice for All 

The sweet blood spattered in the darkness, and the people screamed in panic. But she did not stop. They were ugly. So ugly. They had to be destroyed, had to be punished, because they were ugly, just like she was ugly, they were filthy, she was filthy, filth must be cleansed, purged, she would drink the sweet blood in the shadows because she was filthy filthy ugly you’re so ugly filthy-

Gasping for breath, Dorothy’s eyes shot open. Her heart pounded in her chest, and tears filled her eyes. It was dark still, but by the thin firm pallet she was on, she knew she was still in her cell. Thoughts of sleep had fled, so she slid from her bed and onto the cold floor, the concrete biting into her knees through the thin fabric of her prison uniform. 

Closing her eyes and forcing herself to take a few gasping breaths, Dorothy collected her thoughts as she clasped her hands together. “Lord Barbados… I’m so scared. I know I am free in Your name, that the winds have set me free… but I’m still so scared… I did so much evil. I… I don’t ask to escape from my own actions, but… please… give me strength to face them.”

Her face wet with tears, Dorothy continued to weep and pray for long hours, before finally collapsing back into her bed, exhausted. 

When the day dawned, Dorothy sat quietly on her bed, and listened to the small walkman with the headset she was allowed. It contained several CDs with The Tone Deaf Bards songs on them, and she tried to lose herself in the music and relax for a few moments. 

Then the door to her cell swung open, and a woman in a gray suit bustled in, carrying a steaming tray. “Rise and shine, mon cheri! It’s time for you day in court!” 

Dorothy carefully removed her headphones and turned off the walk man, trying to smile. “Thank you,  Yennefer. I…I’m ready.”

“Not yet, you’re not! Eat up,” Yennefer indicated the tray, which held two hard boiled eggs, orange slices, some good black bread, sausage, and a cup of milk and a mug of coffee. “I’ll brush your hair out while you eat, and then we’ll go over what’s going to happen today.”

Nodding, Dorothy sat at the desk and began to eat as Yennerfer took out a hairbrush and ran it through Dorothy’s tangled locks. “Now, today I’ll be giving my closing argument, as will the prosecution. Then the judges will deliberate, and hand down your sentence. It’s just you today, my dear, Geoff will be sentenced tomorrow.”

“And what happened to…?” Dorothy swallowed, then whispered, “To Heinz. Stolpergefahr.”

“I don’t want you to think about that,” Yennefer said firmly, and Dorothy winced as the brush caught in her hair for a moment. 

“That bad?” Dorothy asked, shuddering slightly. It would be well. She’d be alright. Even if she was found guilty. 

Yennefer hesitated, then said, “His case was different. He was never brainwashed as you were. He walked into the Gesellschaft willingly. He might have changed his mind and fought on the side of the Knights in the final battle, but he committed some horrific crimes before that. You know that, I know that. He turned himself in at the same time you did, but Judge Vogt didn’t feel that was enough. He’s been sentenced to twenty years in prison. But he’ll be out in 12 years.”

“I see.” Dorothy was quiet, looking at her reflection. Her eyes looked sunken and hollow from the lack of sleep, and she grimaced. She did look ugly. No, stop that. She couldn’t let herself be trapped that way again. “I…I killed a lot more people than Heinz did. Many times more.”

Yennefer paused, crouching down to put her face beside Dorothy’s and looking at her in the mirror, her antlers dangling from her red hair. “And you were brainwashed. We have a good case. You turned yourself in, you did everything right. They won’t punish you for that.”

“They should,” Dorothy whispered, closing her eyes as Yennefer went back to fixing her hair. 

She was tempted to tell Yennefer she’d just go in her prison uniform with no makeup, but she knew that Yennerfer would never allow that as her lawyer. So, she put on the makeup; not too much, but enough to be tasteful, and wore the conservative green dress, then put on the silver earrings with the two glass beads with the mark of Lord Barbados on them. 

After that, she was placed in handcuffs, which honestly wouldn’t do much to her. She wore them anyway. She still thought it was silly; she could break out of jail whenever she wanted, turning into a moth and flying away. But she wouldn’t. She’d made a promise. 

There was a large crowd of reporters out in front of the courthouse, and once more Yennefer and Dorothy were swarmed by them. 

“Remember, let me do the talking,” Yennefer whispered into her ear, before smiling and stepping forward.

The questions were all the same.

“What verdict are you expecting?”

“My client, while an unwilling member of Gesellschaft, was horribly subjected to a prolonged campaign of abuse and torture by the Gesellschaft. They did this with the goal of destroying her personality and turning her into a killing machine. She is as much a victim here as anyone, and I believe Judge Vogel will hand down a light verdict.”

“What are your thoughts on the outcome of the other trials?”

“My client’s case is unique, and I do not believe her verdict will be similar.”

And so on. At last, Dorothy had enough, and stepped forward. The reporters all turned to her, and she could feel Yennefer’s outrage, but she ignored it all. “I will accept the justice of the court. I was forgiven by Lord Barbados, but that doesn’t mean I can escape the consequences of my actions. I…I can only ask that I be allowed to serve my sentence in a way that will bring Freedom to the people of Germany.”

And with that, Dorothy turned around and walked into the courthouse. She heard the sharp click of Yennefer’s heels, then her lawyer caught up to her. “I told you not to say anything! You nearly made my antlers catch on fire! Look, if you want to have a prayer of not spending the next decade in prison-”

“I don’t care if I spend the next decade in prison, Yennefer,” Dorothy said, smiling at her lawyer. The other woman’s antlers really were smoking slightly. She was either outraged or quite nervous. It was a bit odd, having another Parahuman as a lawyer, but Yennefer was an old friend of Cookie’s, and had agreed to take both Dorothy and Geoff’s case when just about no other lawyer or law firm would have, especially not for the funds that Dorothy and Geoff had. 

Besides, Yennerfer specialized in cape law, both in Germany and in her native France. It made sense, her being a parahuman herself. She’d apparently triggered in law school and had even teamed up with Cookie as a duo for a few months before the two of them parted ways and retired. Yennefer to become a lawyer, Cookie to start a game store. 

They entered the courtroom, which was still smaller than Dorothy had expected it would be, even after more than a year of trials. There were tables for the prosecution and defense, another for the press reporter, and a raised section for the judges. There was no jury box, which had half surprised Dorothy, but that was likely because she’d watched too much American TV. There was also no place for the press. Her trial was being broadcast, but the press sat in a separate media room, while the trial itself was recorded via television and microphone. 

Dorothy and Yennefer were the first ones in, with the Federal Prosecutor walking in a few moments later with his staff. They took their seat at the other table, taking out briefcases and going over papers, which was what Yennefer was doing, her lips moving and one hand waving back and forth as she went over her notes one last time.

Dorothy did see Itul and Cookie come in, along with a few other knights, with Itul waving enthusiastically. Notably, he had a large silver strip of duct tape over his mouth. Dorothy wondered what that was about, but the other capes took their seats in the rear. Normally, the public wasn’t allowed in, but the Knights had special dispensation, and at least two were required since this was a parahuman trial to prevent any attempts by Dorothy to use her powers. Not that she would, but the law was the law. 

At 9:00 on the dot, the rear door opened, and the eight justices in their red robes and white jabots walked out, taking their seats. Judge Vogel conferred quietly with the recorder for a moment, then nodded. “We will be taking closing arguments today. Prosecutor, are you ready?”

“The Prosecution is ready, your honor,” the chief prosecutor said, standing and nodding. 

“You may proceed,” Judge Vogel said and leaned back in his chair.

“Thank you, your honor. Judges of the First Senate, over the last nine months, the Republic has demonstrated that Mrs. Dorothy Schmidt is guilty of at least twenty-seven counts of murder in the first degree, multiple accounts of assault, and was a member of a fascist terrorist organization that sought to undermine the peace and security of the Federal Republic of Germany. 

“While Mrs. Schmidt’s story is a tragic one, the fact remains that she herself is the one who committed these crimes. She is remorseful, yes. She claims to have been subjected to brainwashing. Perhaps. But as she herself has said before, that fact does not absolve her of her crimes.”

Yennefer groaned softly, pinching her nose, and Dorothy fought not to wilt in her chair. Yennefer had told her repeatedly that statements like “I accept my own guilt” hurt her case, but Dorothy didn’t care. Well, she did care, it was just that she cared more about ensuring that justice was done. Even if it was to her. 

The prosecution went on for some length, outlining each of Dorothy’s crimes. Tears fell unbidden down her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, whispering to herself the names of her victims, and committing their souls to Lord Barbados. She didn’t remember their faces well. It had always been dark when she’d killed, and her memories were distorted like they were seen through an oily film. She thought that might be the brainwashing that had been cleansed from her by Lord Barbados, but she wasn’t certain. 

At last, the prosecution wrapped up their arguments and sat, and Judge Vogel nodded to Yennefer. “Is the Defense ready to present their closing arguments?”

“The Defense stands ready, your honor,” Yennefer said, popping up out of her seat. With a nod from the judge, she took a deep breath, then began. 

“The Defense does not contest the facts of the crimes of this case. In fact, the Defense readily acknowledges them. What the Defense’s argument had been from the first is this: It was not the woman you see before you know, Dorothy Schmidt, who did those things. It was the Villain Nocht.

“Parahuman powers can be terrible things: I know that better than anyone,” Yennefer touched the two antlers that hung down from her head, mostly concealed by her hair, and grimaced. “And in this case, Dorothy Allers was kidnapped by the Gesellschaft. She was taken against her will, subjected to inhuman torture, and forced to undergo a Trigger Event once she was broken, in body and mind. 

“But that wasn’t enough: once she had triggered, Dorothy’s mind was deliberately and maliciously altered by the use of Parahuman abilities, conditioned to obey the will of the monsters in the Gesellschaft and their American allies, specifically, All Father. She was used as a living weapon, trapped in her own body as a slave to forces she hated. She was even forcibly married to a man she didn’t know, a man who had also been kidnapped and brainwashed by the same fascist beasts who had taken Dorothy.

“For all intents and purposes, Dorothy Allers was dead. Killed by the Gesellschaft as much as the other victims were. And she would have stayed dead, if not for a literal act of god.”

Yennefer looked around the room, her expression pleading. “You’ve seen the footage of the First Hallelujah. You saw what happened to Nocht. She died in that room, the monster that had imprisoned Dorothy for so long was slain by the Song of the Lord of Freedom. She was set free! God himself came down and forgave-”

“Miss Lustria,” one of the other justices interrupted. “This is a court of law. Keep your religious beliefs to yourself.”

“Apologies, your honor,” Yennefer said, but she didn’t look sorry. She pointed to the cross at the back of the room. “Call him what you wish: the Angel of Munich. The Anemo Archon. The God of Freedom. Even Venti Luft. But we all acknowledge that what happened at that concert was nothing mortal song or hands could have wrought. Nocht died, and Dorothy was resurrected. Who are we to judge? What God has done, let not men undo.”

With that, Yennefer sat, and Judge Vogel nodded to Dorothy. “The court will allow the Defendant to make a statement.”

Yennefer hastily leaned towards the microphone. “My client would like to wave-”

“I will speak,” Dorothy said, standing up. Yennefer groaned and gave her a pleading look, but she ignored it. 

“Go ahead, Mrs. Schmidt,” Judge Vogel said, nodding to Dorothy.

“You don’t need to,” Yennefer hissed, trying to grab Dorothy’s hand, but she stepped away. 

“Thank you, your honor.” Dorothy took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. “What has been said today is true. Both what the Prosecution has said, and what Yennefer, that is, what Miss Lustitia said, are true. I did do all those things.”

Dorothy put her hand to her head, feeling the tears leak down her face. “I…I remember it like a dream. Like it was someone else…but I did those things. It’s like…it’s like I was a character in a video game, and someone else was controlling me…but I could feel myself kill those people. And I remember…remember enjoying it. Barbados forgive me, but it was all that would make the pain stop! Make the voice go quiet, make…”

Dorothy broke down crying, unable to control herself. A moment later, Yennefer pressed some tissues into her hands, and Dorothy wiped at her face and nose, knowing it would make her makeup run, and not caring. 

“I’m sorry, I just…I was a monster.  Horrible, ugly monster. I would have stayed that way forever, I think. But…but then… He came. Lord Barbados.” 

Dorothy managed to look up and meet the justice's eyes. “He set me free. From that living hell, from that endless nightmare. I…I could move again! I could feel joy, sorrow, and…and guilt. The first thing I did when I realized I was free…I vomited. Because I realized what horrible things I’d done.”

She took a deep breath, then said. “Please sentence me fairly. What I did to those people… it was evil. I was evil. I might be free…but that doesn’t spare me from the consequences of my actions.”

Judge Vogel nodded. “The court will now recess for deliberation.”

The gavel came down, and Dorothy sagged into her seat. 

“Well,” Yennefer said with a sigh, and put her arms around Dorothy’s shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “At least you were honest, I guess. But honesty won’t get you justice here.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dorothy said. “It’s in Lord Barbados’ hands.”

She didn’t know how right she was. 

Taking off his red hat, Judge Vogel set it on the desk before him and looked around at the rest of the First Senate. This was going to be a long deliberation, and he knew it. He was personally inclined to be lenient, punishing a woman for being mind-controlled left a bad taste in his mouth, but the law was clear. Dorothy Schmidt was going to spend a great deal of time in prison. He filled a cup with coffee from the pot and lifted it to his lips. In the distance, he heard faint music, and smiled, thinking of open grassy fields. 

“Well, that last statement sealed it. The woman might be remorseful, but she doesn’t deny she’s a murderer,” Judge Klein said in disgust, taking a cup of tea for herself. “And here I was inclined to be kind to her.”

“Leniency for her sets a bad precedent. We’ll have every criminal claiming they were brainwashed,” Judge Albrecht pointed out. 

“We’re in agreement on her guilt, then?” Vogel said with a sigh. “So, that just leaves sentencing.”

“Hmm, who put on that music?” Klein asked, looking around. “It’s beautiful, but it’s distracting.”

“That is rather the point, you know. I can be distracting when I want to be.”

Judge Vogel felt cold sweat run down his back as he and the other seven justices slowly turned to see an uninvited guest sitting in the corner of the room, strumming on a harp. Venti Luft smiled, then stood. “Mind if I join you?”

“This is a closed session of the court!” Albrecht sputtered. “You have no right-”

“Normally, I’d agree, and I’d never meddle in mortal affairs, but, well, Dorothy’s a friend. And I thought I needed to clarify a few things,” Venti said, taking a seat uninvited. He looked around, then frowned. “No beer? No wonder I avoid courts.”

Vogel cleared his throat. “We will not be threatened, Mr. Luft.”

“Wasn’t planning on that,” Venti said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He took a cup of coffee and added a large amount of cream and sugar, then sipped it. “Eh, this will work. Well, don’t you have questions for me?”

“I do,” Klein said, leaning forward on the table. “Was she mind controlled?”

“Yes,” Venti responded instantly. “Totally and completely. She was utterly unable to act on her own. The Gesellschaft had completely removed her free will. She was, essentially, an automaton built on an imprisoned human soul.”

“That is…disturbing,” Vogel said slowly. “But, that doesn’t absolve her of her crimes.”

“I’m aware,” Venti said with a nod. “Which is why I’m here with an offer.”

“And that is?” Albrecht demanded. 

Venti set his cup down, then leaned forward. “I’d like to take Dorothy’s punishment on myself. Geoff’s too, but I’ll be speaking to the Second Senate about that later.”

“What?! You can’t just-” Albrecht sputtered, but Vogel held up a hand. 

“An interesting concept. Do you propose to serve her prison sentence?” he asked. 

“That wouldn’t work, and we both know that,” Venti said with a shake of his head. “No, I merely wish to see justice done. While you are free to choose it or ignore my offer, it does still stand on the table: I will pay back Germany and the German people ten times the value of the lives that Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt took.”

“A human life has no quantifiable value! How can you put a price on a human life!?” Albrecht demanded.

“You can’t,” Venti said simply, his tone utterly serious.

“Then your offer makes no sense,” Vogel said, shaking his head slowly. 

“I think it does. I’m offering my life, in exchange for Dorothy’s and Geoffs. Because their sins were against me, for it was my children they killed,” Venti stated as if it were absolute fact. “Well, accepting the French family, but I’ll take that up with Focalores when the time comes. Or if I’m wrong, I’ll simply pay the debt to France myself.”

“You’re mad,” Albrecht whispered. 

But Vogel’s mind was racing. He was a judge, but he was also a lifelong Lutheran. “You’re claiming divinity, then. For all sin is against God.”

I AM.

Vogel shuddered and sank halfway to his knees before he managed to control himself. Several of the justices went so far as to prostrate themselves. 

“I’ve interfered enough for today,” Venti said, his voice trembling. Was he slightly pale now? “But some prayers must be answered. See to it that justice is done, but see that it is Justice. Not Vengeance. For when you deliver a verdict, you deliver it in my name.”

Then he was simply gone, as if he’d never been there, save for the cup of cooling coffee on the table.

The judges sat quietly for a long moment, collecting themselves. Then Vogel stood up and paced to the window, gazing out at the city. “We cannot simply drop the charges.”

“Obviously not. Are we going to let ourselves be swayed by that little display?” Albrecht demanded. 

Klein snorted. “Are you not? That was fairly convincing. I didn’t believe he was anything but a cape before, but now…”

“I am not concerned about that,” Vogel said, turning back to the other judges. “What I am concerned about is two things: One, we now know beyond a doubt that this woman is innocent. She didn’t kill those people.”

“Debatable, but what is the other point?” Albrecht demanded.

Vogel turned back to the window. “Just how, exactly, does Venti intend to pay us back? That, I am most curious about.”

With a sigh, he returned to the table. “I think we have much to discuss.”

Dorothy sat in the waiting room, trying not to shiver as Yennefer rubbed her back and tried to console her. For his part, Itul was pacing back and forth like a caged animal, while Cookie was holding Dorothy’s hand.

“It’ll be alright,” Cookie repeated again. “Yen’s the best.”

Dorothy could only nod, her throat too tight to let her speak. 

“I’m telling ya, man, if they try and lock you up, we could bust you out! We could like, smuggle you to Japan or something! You could be a ninja!” Itul blurted. 

“Itul,” Yen said, glaring at the big man. “Not helping.”

“Right, right, I just, I mean, she’s not gonna get locked up, right? I mean, that would be wrong and stuff!” 

“Itul, why don’t you get us WcDonalds,” Cookie said tiredly. 

“Huh?” he paused in his pacing, frowning at Cookie. 

“We’re hungry. Go get us some WcNuggets and fries or something,” Cookie ordered, pulling out several marks and thrusting them at Itul.

“Oh, uh, ok. Anything else? Milkshakes? Burgers?” Itul asked. 

Before Dorothy was forced to say she didn’t want anything, the bailiff opened the door. “They’re ready in five.”

Dorothy felt like she was in a dream as she was guided back into the room. Yennefer and Cookie had fixed her hair and makeup again, so she looked presentable as she sat at the table, waiting as the eight judges filed in. 

“In the case of the People of Germany vs. Dorothy Schmidt, we are now ready to render our verdict,” Judge Vogel said. “In the first case, the charge of Murder in the First Degree, we find the defendant…”

Dorothy closed her eyes, and whispered one final prayer.

“...Guilty.”

Dorothy let out a ragged breath and a sob as Yennefer gritted her teeth and balled her fists. 

“BULLSHIT!” Itul shouted, jumping to his feet, but Cookie pulled him back down. Which was probably a good thing, as the Bailiffs did not look enthused at the prospect of trying to arrest the two meter tall cape. 

The rest of the charges didn’t matter, and Dorothy opened her eyes, feeling an odd sense of relief. It was all over. She was free. The wind stirred in the courthouse, though no windows were open to let in the November chill.

You are free, my daughter. Do not fear. For I am with you. 

Dorothy smiled, and whispered her thanks to Barbados. It would be alright. She would pay her debt to society.

“Now, as to sentencing,” Judge Vogel said. “Our sentence is thus: the guilty party is to serve twenty-seven life sentences, sentences not to be served concurrently.”

Dorothy didn’t really understand what that meant, but Yennefer chuckled bitterly and muttered, “Not like it matters, putain.”

“All sentences are to be served in the care of Grand Master Catherine Schmidt of the Knights of Favonius, or her legal designee or heir, in the facility of their choosing. During this time, the guilty party shall not be restricted in movement, so long as that movement is in service of the Knights of Favonius.”

Yennefer’s head had snapped up, and Dorothy opened her eyes, confused. In the back, Cookie started to cackle, slapping her knees. 

“Wait, hold on, what’s that mean? Why are you laughing!? Cookie, what’s going on!?” Itul complained. 

“Order in the Court,” Judge Vogel growled, rapping his gavel. 

“My apologies, your honor,” Cookie said, standing up. “Question: will we be getting funding for this?”

“That is not in the purvey of this court,” Judge Vogel said sternly. “Sit down, Grand Master, and control your Knights.”

Cookie bowed, then grabbed Itul by the ear and hissed into it as the big man whimpered and nodded in confusion. 

“Additionally,” Judge Vogel continued. “The guilty party is not to be allowed to drink alcohol for the period of their initial lifetime sentence. Starting today. Court is adjourned.” 

And with the fall of a gavel, the trial came to a conclusion. 

Utterly baffled by what had just happened, Dorothy turned to Yennefer. “I…I don’t understand. What’s this all mean?”

“They found you guilty and sentenced you to community service,” Yennefer said, sounding giddy. She turned and hugged Dorothy tightly. “We won!” 

Tears flooded Dorothy’s eyes, and she started to laugh and weep at the same time as her friends crowded around her. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, she felt free. 

And far away, Venti chuckled to himself and poured out the bottle of wine he’d been holding. “Well played, Judge Vogel. Well played. Hmm, I wonder, just how long is a life sentence, anyway? I suppose I can just assume it’s 100 years. It seems I’ll have to stick around here for a while after all.”

And with that, Venti lay back on the roof of the van to take a long nap. He’d come dangerously close to violating his Aspect today, but it had been necessary. Sometimes, one individual's freedom was worth taking up the weight of the world. 

He’d miss the wine though. 

“Afternoon, Jorge!” 

Glace returned the wave of his neighbor, Mrs. Hernandez. “Good afternoon. How’s the ice cream?”

Mrs. Hernandez lifted up her cone. “Excellent! Thank you, and my refrigerator is working perfectly again! You’re a good boy, Jorge!”

Glace grinned and nodded. “Let me know if it gives you any trouble. For someone who makes such excellent empanadas, my services are always free!” 

“I’ll make you some tomorrow,” Mrs. Hernandez promised with a wave, and Jorge laughed, then opened the door to his house. 

“Mr. Bigglesworth, I’m home!” Glace called, setting down his bag of groceries on the table near the door as he took off his shoes. “I bought-”

Glace froze. There was a set of shoes by the door already. He lived alone in the small town of General Villegas, Argentina. Just him and Mr. Bigglesworth. No girlfriend, no frequent visitors. He repaired refrigerators and appliances from a small shop, but he did little else. 

Frantically, he checked his security system, but it hadn’t gone off. Nor had his stasis traps. 

Swallowing, Glace turned back around, jamming his feet back in his shoes, and started to run. 

“Jorge? Where are you going? It’s too hot today to be running!” Mrs. Hernandez called. 

He paused, turning to her. “Did anyone come to my house?”

“Well, yes, your sister, but she said she wanted it to be a surprise,” Mrs. Hernandez said, frowning. 

Glace had a sister, but she didn’t know where he lived. He prayed she was still alive. But he knew for a fact she hadn’t visited him.

Swearing, Glace activated his stasis traps with his key fob, freezing his house in time, then ran as fast as he could to his bicycle, taking it out into the street and pedaling as fast as he could. 

He heard the pop behind him as his stasis trap failed. He’d originally come up with that design in case an Endbringer attacked Toybox. But someone had just deactivated it like it was nothing. Weeping, he peddled as fast as he could as Mrs. Hernandez shouted behind, but he knew it was futile. 

The arrow came from nowhere, Glace’s bike tire shot out from under him as the crackling shaft crumpled the cheap aluminum frame. He skidded along the ground, the asphalt biting into his skin. Desperately, he drew his Freeze Ray, and tried to point it, only to scream in pain as his hand was pierced by a second arrow.

“Angel Rodrigez. Known as Glace. You have been sentenced to death.”

Clutching his bleeding hand to his chest, Glace tried shakily to stand as the woman stepped towards him, her wooden sandals loud on the asphalt, the purple bow with an arrow of lightning notched to the string.

“I DIDN’T KNOW!” Glace pleaded, scrabbling away from her on one hand and his legs. “WE DIDN’T KNOW! I didn’t even make weapons! I make stasis pods! Cryosleep! That’s all! I never-”

“You were a member of Toybox, the Tinker group who sold weapons to the Yangban and traitors who were responsible for the Wisteria Wedding,” the woman said, raising her bow and pointing the arrow straight at Glace’s head. “For your crimes, you must pay.”

“No, please, I-”

The arrow took Glace right through the eye. He was dead before he hit the ground. 

Stepping over the blood trail, Sara Tengan looked down at her target. She dismissed Yumi-Chan, even as the old woman behind her screamed something in Spanish. She had spoken English to the target, as he had been American, and likely fluent. Not that it mattered.

Taking out a lacquered box, Sara set it on the ground, then drew her blade and grimaced. She hated this part. It made such a mess. 

Then she cut the target's head from his shoulders. The head rolled into the gutter, and Sara walked over, picked up the head, and placed it in the box, a gift for Raiden. Her mistress would be pleased, and would reward Sara for this, the last member of the treacherous Toy Box found and dealt with. Maybe she’d even squeeze Sara with her thighs. 

Police sirens wailed in the distance, and Sara tucked away the box, then transformed herself into lightning in the shape of a Tengu, and flew into the nearby powerline. She traveled that way for several kilometers, then popped back out to where her car was waiting. Then she simply drove to the nearest airport and took a short flight back to Buenos Aires.

At the Japanese Embassy, she made a short phone call, then a portal opened for her. She stepped through, then fell to one knee before Raiden. 

“Tengu. Your mission was a success?” the Raiden Shogun asked, gazing down on Sara as she withdrew the box and lifted it up. 

“Yes, your Excellency. As you commanded: The head of Glace, last of Toybox.”

Raiden accepted the box, and glanced at the head inside. “You are certain this is the proper mortal?”

“Without a doubt. I had to use your gift to free myself from his time trap. He is the one who provided the weapons that froze the Emperor’s car.”

Raiden nodded, then incinerated the box and head both with a flick of her finger. “You have done well, Tengu. Rise.”

Blushing, Sara rose to her feet, but did not meet Raiden’s eyes out of deference. 

“Once more, you have proven your capability. I give you leave to visit the Red Oni for a fortnight,” Raiden decreed. “You may request a portal when you are ready to depart.”

“T-thank you, your Excellency,” Sara said breathily. “I live to serve.”

Raiden nodded, then flicked her fingers in dismissal. Sara bowed, then backed out of the Shogun’s presence. Once she had closed the door behind herself, Sara squealed and hugged herself. Raiden knew her name! She couldn’t wait to tell Itul about this! Two whole weeks of vacation! How wonderful!

Skipping off, Sara hummed happily to herself as she mentally prepared a list of what to pack. The man whose body she had left a world away was already gone from her mind. 

It was very hard for Nahida to maintain her composure as she made her way through Abu Ghraib prison. The Dreams that lingered here were dark and foreboding, full of terror, despair, and death. So much suffering had taken place in this prison, but that was not the primary reason she was so afraid of it. 

Oh Archon, we’ve finally found you. The people can’t wait to meet you. 

She shivered, remembering the five centuries spent trapped in the Sanctuary of Surasthana. It had been more than a year since she had been freed and sent to Iraq, but the memories of that dark time still lingered. 

“Are you alright? Do you wish to go back? You don’t have to do this,” Dr. Bashir said gently, squeezing her hand. He was hobbling along with his staff in one hand, but he’d insisted on accompanying Nahida here, for which she was grateful. 

“No, I do,” Nahida said, shaking her head slightly. She looked around the prison, tears filling her eyes. Most of the previous occupants had already been freed, having been political prisoners of the previous regime. But now there were new bodies to fill the cells. Evil men who had done horrible, horrible things. 

The Constitutional Convention wasn’t over yet, but it had been firmly established that the Death Penalty was being banned in Iraq. Nahida had made it abundantly clear that this was one of the few hard lines she would take: if Iraq was to enjoy her protections and blessings, she would not allow it to have the Death Penalty. All life was sacred and precious, even the life she was visiting today. 

That did mean they needed somewhere to be housed, and unfortunately, Abu Ghraib was the best place for it at the moment. Nahida determined that it needed some rather drastic reforms. No prison in Sumeru had been this inhumane. She wouldn’t keep an animal in a bare concrete cell, let alone a human being. 

At last they came to the cell in the darkest and dirtiest corner of the prison. At first it looked like a lump of rags was curled up on the pallet in the corner, then a fuzzy head with a gray and white beard arose. It had only been a month, but you could see that Saddam Hussein had not taken to prison life well and that he’d been dying his hair before. 

“You,” the former president croaked. “You little demon! Come to kill me, or simply to gloat?”

“Neither,” Nahida said, saddling up to the prison bars. She wrinkled her nose: It stank, as the toilet was clogged, and Saddam had not been bathing properly since his stay in the sewer pipe. She could also sense the beginnings of scurvy and other diseases in him, and he was wasting away from a lack of calories. She turned to Bashir. “Tell the guards that all prisoners are to have access to adequate toiletries, and nutrition. This is not an acceptable way to treat anyone.”

“What, are they rebelling already? Come to beg for me to come back?” Saddam rasped, pulling himself upright and leering down at Nahida. “I told you: they need me. A firm hand to guide them. Not a miserable little devil girl.”

“No, Interim President Ali Saeed is doing quite well so far, and we will have elections come spring. I set a hard deadline of no later than April 27th, though it will be a great deal of effort to ensure they come to pass,” Nahida said. 

“Well, I’ll just have to run then!” Saddam laughed, his voice baying like a jackal. 

Nahida pursed her lips and shook her head. “You, and others who have committed great crimes, are barred from office. No, I am here to explain to you what your future holds.”

“Oh, I know.” Saddam bared his teeth, looking like a feral dog at bay. “You’ll string me up, or put a bullet in my head and bury me somewhere, out of the way.”

“That is what you did to your rivals. No, I believe that all life is precious. Even yours, Mr. Hussein,” Nahida stated emphatically. “Indeed, no prisoner in this place will be executed.”

“Then you come for what, for my secrets, to brag!? If you want what I have, it will cost you!” Saddam snarled, spittle spraying from his lips. 

Bashir moved to step between Nahida and Hussein, but the former dictator turned his malevolent gaze towards the doctor. “And you, Saeed! Was this your plan all along!? To seduce my Farasha, and use her and this child to replace me!? Are you the puppet master behind the scenes!?”

“No, as a matter of fact. My plan was to protect Nahida from you, and to save as many as I could from your abuse,” her father said calmly. “If it had been up to me, we would have lived a quiet and peaceful life. But I will support my daughter and my wife, no matter what comes.”

Saddam sneered and looked back at Nahida. “Someone’s controlling you. Mark my words. You’re just a puppet. I would have treated you well.”

“All of us are in the hands of Allah, Archons and mortals both. But what I am here for today is simple: Tomorrow, you will begin to repay your debt to the Iraqi people,” Nahida stated.

Saddam scowled at that. “What, the abuse I have suffered in this prison is not enough?”

“It is far better treatment than what you gave this place’s previous residents,” Nahida said, coming to the end of even her famously long patience. Being inside a prison did do awful things to her emotional state. She needed sunlight on her skin again desperately. “But you have work to do. You and most of the residents of this prison will be relocated, and will begin your jobs as Dinosaur Sanitation Engineers.”

“As…what?” Saddam asked, clearly taken aback by this.

Bashir didn’t suppress his grin, but it was Baqa who answered to Saddam’s horror. “You will be picking up the poop of the great ssscaly behemothsss Lord Buer has blessssed her people with.”

“A talking snake?! You are a devil!” Saddam swore, making a sign to ward off evil, the motion rather clumsy, as if he’d never really done it before.

“Baqa speaks truthfully. You will be given protective gear, of course, but the sauropods and ceratopsians have begun to haul fruits and vegetables harvested in the new Dendro Domains to the city. However, their excrement is highly valuable, as it contains both rich dendro energy and an abundance of nutrients that can be used as fertilizer. Your new job will be to clean the poop out of the streets, then to process it at the new plant we are constructing,” Nahida explained.

Slow, dawning horror came over Saddam as Nahida explained this. “You…you cannot do this to me! I am the president! I have money, power, influence! I am not a man who picks up shit from beasts of-”

“If you swear in the presence of my daughter, I shall administer an oral dose of soap,” Bashir interrupted, which made Nahida giggle. 

“I refuse! Kill me, but I will not work like a common laborer!” Saddam sneered. 

“While I normally abhor the saying, in your case, it applies: ‘He who does not work does not eat,’” Nahida quoted. “You will not be ill-treated, and your duties will be similar to others who will be compensated justly. But you will live in a humble barracks, with no worldly possessions. Your other choice is to be a sewage maintenance worker.”

“So either way, I send my days neck deep in shit,” Saddam laughed. Then started choking when Bashir made a gesture, and a stream of liquid soap made its way into Saddam’s mouth. He gasped and spat, going over to a bucket that had water in it and rinsing his mouth. 

“You have until tomorrow to decide,” Nahida informed Saddam. “But inaction is not a valid course. My friends will be watching you. Do not attempt to flee, either. It will not go well for you.”

“What do you…” Saddam trailed off, as Nahida opened his eyes to the dozens of Aranara who were watching his cell. 

“You hurt Sarva Nara,” Aranarakin said ominously from his perch atop Nahida’s shoulder. “If you flee, you will go to Mahamaranapna. There, we will keep you for three days.”

“Demons. All of them, demons,” Saddam whispered, his body locked up, the whites of his eyes showing in terror. 

“Only to those who do evil,” Nahida informed him. Then she shuddered and took her father’s hand again. “Come. We have spent enough time in this place.”

Saddam ranted and raved behind her, but Nahida ignored him. The Aranara would not be gentle, but they would not kill him, either. He would spend the rest of his life doing something productive that contributed to the betterment of his people. Even if it was being a dino pooper scooper. 

Darrius Jones sat in the interview room, and dared to feel hope. The charges were bogus. Anyone with a brain knew that. Yes, he’d had a piece on him, and yeah, that shit had been as hot as the cops said, but he hadn’t killed nobody! He’d just been guilty of being black and in the area, so the cops had arrested him. All that evidence was circumstantial and shit. 

But he couldn’t afford no lawyer. His momma worked hard, but she was a cashier at Dollar General, and Darius had been working at a car wash. Ain’t had no money for collage, barely makin’ rent on their shitty apartment, especially with his girl Monisha pregnant and moving in with him and his two brothers and momma and grandma.

Course, Monisha weren’t pregnant no more, with little baby Darius Jones Junior, or Lil D now almost two years old. Fuck, Darius was a father, and he aint’ seen his little baby boy ‘cept during visitations and at court. 

“Mr. Jones. I have an offer for you.”

The guy who walked into the interview room looked like a fed. White dude with a receding hairline and a cheap-ass suit. His shoes was nice though, Darius noticed shoes. They weren’t Jordans or nothin’, but they looked like them good shoes rich people bought. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Darius demanded. “Where’s my lawyer? I ain’t sayin’ shit unless my lawyer is here. This about my appeal?”

“Your second appeal was denied. You’re facing life without probation, Mr. Jones,” the man said, setting a silver briefcase on the desk between them. “And your public defender couldn’t be here today. But what I have is an offer for you.”

“I told you and the other cops, I ain’t killed nobody! I’ll cop to the weed and the hot piece, but I ain’t had no beef with Antione or Big K, weren’t me that killed him! Them cops is lazy ass mother-”

“Mr. Jones, you are mistaken. What I am here to offer you today is freedom. No questions asked. All you have to do is sign up for the Case 53 program,” the man said, and popped open the briefcase, sliding a set of papers over to Darius.

He flipped through the papers, but he’d graduated with a 1.7 GPA and he couldn’t read this legalese shit. He was damn proud he graduated when 40% of his class hadn’t, growing up in the Projects was hard like that. “The fuck this say?”

“It says that you, Darius Jones, will have your sentence commuted. That you will serve no jail time, so long as you agree to sign up for Case 53,” the suit said from behind his glasses. 

Darius frowned, squinting at the man. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

Slowly, the man removed his glasses, showing piercing green eyes, and Darius sucked in a breath. 

“Holy shit, you Eidolon! What the fuck are you doing here?” Darius demanded, looking around. “Listen, I ain’t got no powers or nothin’, I just an ordinary ass ni-”

“I am aware. That’s why you’re qualified for the Case 53 program.” Eidolon leaned forward. “I looked at your case. I think you’re innocent, Mr. Jones. Which is why I’m here with this offer. Case 53 is an experimental program, where we test new research on you. It has the potential to grant you parahuman abilities.”

“No shit? You for real? I could be a cape?!” Darius asked excitedly. No prison!? He could be a cape!? Fuck, he didn’t like heroes like Eidolon, buncha pigs in clown shit, but with powers, he could do a lot. Maybe get his momma a house. Make sure that Lil D didn’t grow up in the projects and get arrested on false charges. Do right by Monica. Get himself a side chick or two. Some of them cape bitches was fine. 

And a pair of Jordans. Darius had always wanted a pair of real Jordans. 

“There are risks involved. Only about 60% of participants receive parahuman abilities. For 15%, nothing happens. But there is a 25% chance of either death, or disfigurement, with no powers. In the case of death or disfigurement, compensation will be given to you or your next of kin in the sum of $100,000, and you will still have your jail sentence commuted.”

“What, so like, 4-1 odds?” Darius asked, frowning. He wasn’t so good with numbers, but he could do that kind of math. “And my momma get the money if I don’t make it?”

“About that,” Eidolon agreed. “So, will you risk it, Mr. Jones? Will you try to serve your country?”

“Shit, sign me up!” Darius decided. He didn’t like his odds in prison, but a 60% chance he got powers? That was like, twice as much as a 25% chance he died and his momma got a payout. And Eidolon said he might only be disfigured or something, and still be rich. He liked them odds. 

“Very well. Sign here,” Eidolon said, and Darius quickly did so. Then to his shock, Eidolon opened a portal. “Right this way.”

Through the portal, Darius was led to a fancy-looking medical lab, with a doctor and a nurse. He was strapped down to a table, and looked around. Eidolon was gone. “Hey, where’d Eidolon go? Where am I?”

“You signed the release form,” the nurse said. “You’re at a facility to administer the Vial that contains your new powers.”

Darius grinned at that. “Shit, shoot me up, momma!” 

The nurse gave him a pained smile, but she was a nice-looking chick, white of course, but Darius didn’t mind white women. 

Then the doc jabbed his arm with a needle, and Darius did his best not to flinch. A real one wouldn’t cry at no needle.

But the shot hurt more than any of the other shots Darius had gotten over the years. He bit his lip at first, then he couldn’t hold it in no more, and started to scream. Fire raced through his veins, and his mind was lost for a time as his body horribly distorted. His bones twisted and melted, becoming rubbery and loose before melting. His skin burned off, then his molten bones flowed up and covered his body in a grayish exoskeleton. Darius was conscious for the entire process. 

“Hmm, interesting. This one appears to give the subject an exoskeleton,” the doctor said, jotting down some notes. 

Darius tried to speak, tried to ask what happened, but his teeth were gone and his mouth was mostly sealed shut, as now breathed through small pores in his new exoskeleton. He tried to move, but his body wasn’t the same shape, and he was still strapped down. 

“Definitely monstrous. Nemesis program?” the nurse asked, her voice odd and distorted to Darius’ ears. 

“They’re shutting that down. Send him to the slug. He’ll be one of the first of the new program.”

“What do we call him?” 

Darius tried to shout his name, but only a faint buzzing noise came out.

“Hmm, his insectile, so… Roach?’

The nurse scribbled that down. What the fuck!? What the fuck was all this!

Darius was wheeled away, to a room with a man who appeared to have had the same shit shot into him as Darius had. The nurse left him there, and Darius tried to move or speak. 

“Another one,” the man sighed. He had some weird lumpy shit around his neck, and no arms or legs. Some Jabba the Hutt ass looking bastard. 

“Listen to my voice. Let go of who you are. Become…nothing. You are Roach. You are loyal to the United States. You are Loyal to the Protectorate,” the man droned. 

At first it was just annoying, then Darius’ mind leaked out of his brain. He forgot his momma. He forgot his brothers. He forgot Monisha and Lil D. He forgot who he was.

Only Roach remained. And Roach was a proud soldier of the United States.