Retired Superheroes Don't Skip Court Hearings (Cerulean)

The day of the Hearings arrived and Sun Queen was running a bit late. The two costumed metahumans were represented by a superhuman lawyer, Samuel Bolton. A fairly middle aged practitioner of law who only passed the bar the previous year, Sam had given up fighting crime and villainy, to fight for better metahuman legal representation, which meant increased cooperation with the convoluted legal system surrounding vigilantism, secret identities and other headaches of the superhero community.

Samuel Bolton used to be the midwestern superhero Warblade, as it was exceedingly difficult to maintain a secret identity when Sam was infected by an alien techno-organic pathogen that transformed him into an expressionless, glowy-red eyed, 8-foot tall, living mecha as wide as most human beings were tall.

Samuel waited impatiently in the lobby of the Courthouse, unable to sit on any of the frail wooden furniture. He was in a massive suit tailored to his immense size. He looked at his proportionally tiny watch, awaiting the arrival of his two clients. He exchanged glances with staff and clerks passing through, working at the courthouse, who were familiar enough with the super-lawyer that his imposing frame hardly startled them.

"Hnnn. Where the heck are those two? They're going to be late." He thought to himself.

Warblade eyed Wrecker with his glowing red eyes. Were he not a prominent lawyer already, he'd probably look and sound like a walking death machine.

"You're just in time. The hearing's being called to order, and the George's legal team have been eyeing me somethin' fierce." He said with a hint of worry. Warblade was not afraid of fighting alien tripods, but he seemed to dread a legal battle.

Shauna had decided to take the expedient way of getting to the courthouse, avoiding congestion by taking flight. A familiar trail of bright green particles and the thrum of the gravitational device heralded her arrival. She lands softly, in full uniform.

"Traffic was a killer coming here, had to jet the rest of the way. Warblade! I hardly recognized you without the claws." Sun Queen said rather patronizingly, patting Samuel on his arm.

Somehow, even with his face completely featureless, the silence and momentarily look Warblade gave Sun Queen hinted at annoyance at Shauna's nostalgic commentary. "It's just Sam now, Sunny. Nice fairy dust." He said the name with emphasis, protecting his client's secret identity even with gritted teeth. He did manage to get back at her flight.

Warblade then leads them to the Hearing, past alot of normals who by now, were used to the sight of costumed supers attending court. Warblade speaks to Wrecker. "So. Wrecker is it? Word of advice, just tell the truth as you know it and keep your story simple. That Jackal defending the Georges can spot a knot in a statement a mile away."

While all the relevant people were present now, the judge was also just arriving. On one side of the courts was Regina's affluent, doting parents who seemed extremely upset at the way things turned out. Regina herself was wearing a formal suit, even as her drider lower body struggled to fit behind the desk. All the teenagers from that night were also present, now much more well behaved with their family present. On Shauna's side, all she had were some friends from the bar, some rough biker looking folk with bandanas, shades and jackets.

Warblade looked over at his counterpart, the Asian-American brunette lawyer defending the George's. She had a legal team sitting in with her in the courtroom, and her stare made the giant mecha cringe slightly. For all his hero experience, Warblade was still early in his practice.

"All rise for the honorable judge Jackson." The proceedings were underway and the old, one-eyed, heavily bearded bailiff called for order. Judge Jackson was a middle aged woman in the Judge's robe, a no nonsense figure of the law. Warblade audibly cleared his throat, even when he didn't have one anymore.

Wrecker would be first to be called to the stand. Jackson turned to him asking the standard question. "Now mister... Wrecker. Under the Suprahuman Justice Act of 2013, You are not required to divulge your identity, or anything related that may reveal your identity. Do you understand your rights?" It was more a formality than a personal question.

The Asian Tiger-lady lawyer looked at Wrecker, scrutinizing his every reaction. "Now tell us mister Wrecker, do you see the person in court you claim assaulted you the night of October the 14th? And the circumstances of the attack?"

"Mister Wrecker

After Wrecker's rather calm the George's attorney made her questions, pointing out first and foremost that he was also trespassing. Second, perhaps unsurprisingly, the Coast Guard testimony claimed alcohol but no hard substances. But beyond that she couldn't use anything else. Shauna's testimony tried to reinforce Wrecker's story but somehow the Jury were more wary of her than usual.

Warblade attempts to question Regina next, when she brings out her A-game testimony. Once she was called to the stand, she starts talking about the cult and some "Mr.Jones" that introduced her to the cult. She was a devout Christian, she claimed, but she had never met someone as charismatic as this "Mr.Jones". Soon enough she couldn't help being sucked into it by peer pressure and other teenage things.

And now she was stuck with this "medical condition"; In between sentences she had dramatic pauses to bring on the waterworks, crying convincing tears that made the jury listen intently, completely ignoring she was a centaur spider thing complete with extra eyes and fangs. Even the judge seemed slightly convinced, but she didn't give away any sign she was affected.

"Goddamnit. That lil blonde chica is going for an Oscar this year." Shauna cussed once she sat with Wrecker again.

The jury eventually meet and return after a recess. The result was perhaps, unsurprising for a family of Regina's influence.

"The court deems Regina George to be no threat to the public at large, and will be tried for her misdemeanors of vandalism and trespassing in juvenile court. She is hereby to be released to her parents custody. Mister Wrecker, for Illegal trespass on Liberty island and involvement in vandalism in central Park you are to serve two weeks of community service and attend three seminar on public safety. Dismissed."

"Oh Regina! We were so worried...!" Regina's mother embraced her, the drider girl crying tears of joy as well at the leniency. Her parents at least seemed concerned enough for their demonic spider child, disregarding the notion that she could be just plain evil.

Warblade crossed his arms and quietly commented to his team. "Well. Damn. At least we got off easy." He checks his watch. "Well, whaddya know. It's a little past twelve. Anyone up for lunch at Billy Ray's?"

"Count me in on that." Shauna said, looking at Regina rather suspiciously as she and her family left the courtroom.

"Don't worry bout it, man. Billy Ray's food'll set you right." Warblade said, patting Wrecker on the back with his big metallo hands. Hands that once transformed into a giant cleaver that gutted some giant alien.

There was a place in Chicago, and now New York, that metahumans local and visiting could learn about by word of mouth. A special, hidden place where metas could go for either a drink or food, and information about the meta community. It was called Billy Ray's, and its location was always in one of the less developed neighborhoods in the sprawling New York area.

Taking the scenic route they eventually reached that part of town. The alley was strewn with trash and filth, and smelled of dog poo. Graffiti was strewn all over the walls, and what looked like bloodstains and bullet holes were becoming visible on a part of the wall when sunlight was just starting to illuminate it. There also seemed to be a roughly body sized pile of rags in the corner- no telling if it was a body or garbage, but smelled even more foul than both when approached.

The rear entrance was small, no more than fifteen feet wide and raised from the ground line by a few steps. The windows were shut with nailed planks. Country music played from inside. There was a small plank board sign that read “Billy Ray’s”, and scrawled under it was “Absolutely no fighting inside” in rather poor penmanship and messy paint. The reinforced door was guarded by a most stout and muscular humanoid figure, who was roughly four feet tall and as wide. His arms were as thick as his stocky legs, sported a full long beard, and a mighty beer belly. One might describe him as a dwarf.

When approached, he would take a good, long look at the people coming into view. Warblade and the dwarf bouncer high fived... somehow... while Sun Queen gave him a big hug. "Hey you big lug c'mere! Hey Shau- Sun Queen, 'your majesty'. Fancy duds you got on today."  He would comment with warm familiarity, his deep voice seemingly marking him as from the Bronx, or Brooklyn. He heartily mocked Shauna's Queen persona.

"Nice to see you too Mal." Shauna responded. Mal then turned to Wrecker. "Ei, who's the kabuki warrior over here?"

"Nah, it's no big deal. I've been bustin' heads a long time now." Mal said in his brooklyn accent, but that 'long time' comment might tempt someone to retort about his dwarven longevity and if he was there at the battle of the five armies...

Without further ado the trio were ushered into a bar filled with Country music and the smell of tobacco and alcohol. Some aging cowboy in a hat and poncho tended the bar serving draught or bottled beer. He waves at Shauna and company as they find a seat.

"Heya Shauna, Hey Sam. What can I getcha?" A young waitress approached them, completely disregarding the costumed identities. The bar was without doubt for metas, as the waitress had metallic gold skin and eyes, and purple hair.

Shauna sighed. Looks like there really wasn't much regard for secret identities. With that, she loses the helmet to reveal her latin-american self with the very glowy green eyes. "Hey Golda. Get me a chicken salad, extra chicken, no dressing. And some hot tea. This here's Wrecker by the way."

"Nice to meetcha. I'm Golda, fi you haven't already noticed." The waitress pointed to her nametag. Whoever named her had a sense of humor, or somehow predicted she would develop this power.

"Psh. Chicken salad? ha. Somebody's weight watching!" Sam said derisively. He picked up Shauna's helmet to inspect the 'cool duds', hands the helmet to Wrecker if he was curious about the special helmet with all its wires and doohickeys.

"With this costume? Cellulite will kill my hero image. Remember Mega-maiden when she was in her 40's?" Shauna said plainly. She points to a picture of an older lady superhero on the wall, who was exploited by the tabloids for 'filling out' her costume too well. Sam just laughed.

The walls were decorated with framed newspaper articles and old, old costumes of supers from yesteryear. Apparently the people hanging around in the bar were those 70's and 80's heroes and villains alike, who were now content to make a cooperative and spend their days at the bar when not at work.

Sam didn't bother taking the menu from Golda. "Golda get me a big plate of Bacon and Waffles. With that Canadian maple syrup. 'Bout you Wrecker, you a waffle man?"  Sam asked, taking his place on his special concrete seat, designed to accomodate him and other superbeings of great size and weight.

"Alright, two bacon and waffles. One guy wants maple syrup, another chocolate milk. Be with ya in a bit."

The cook proves his skill when the order just reached the kitchen that their orders were already done.

"here ya go." Golda gives the food directly to the people who ordered them.Waffles and bacon for the men, while Shauna looked on with envy, looking at her chicken salad with abject but quiet sadness. She nibbles her goat food with no complaint.

The lawyer and Shauna conversed a bit, now relaxed without the helmet. A photo on the wall- a primitive, pre-internet facebook of sorts- caught Shauna's eye. In the photo was younger Shauna sitting in a booth with a blonde girl with glasses and braces, wearing a really old fashioned dress. The girl Must've been a mormon from the South. Shauna broke out into a huge grin.

"Oh god, here she is. Wrecker... Rich... does that gal look familiar to you?" She showed the picture to Wrecker.

"Who? Oh Elisa? Didn't she go work for the government?" Warblade looked and commented offhandedly, recognizing the person but not the context of Shauna's amusement.

"Right on! Elisa here you see..."

"Yes What about me, Shauna?" The blonde lady in the combat uniform walked into the bar, unmasking as well. She removes her outer vest, hanging it up on the coat rack. Perhaps showing a pleasant side, she embraces Golda and gives her a peck on her golden cheek.

"Elsy!" Warblade was as pleasantly surprised to see that the agent had come. Once again, the bar seemed to bring all the strange people together like some dysfunctional family.

"Long story short, ever since a certain movie came out, We've call her Elsa ever since." Shauna explained as she chewed her grilled chicken and goat food.

"The Frozen jokes are nine years old Shauna. Wrecker, I've got your community service here." Elisa walked up to their table and places a folder with CONFIDENTIAL on it.

"Whoa there Elsy, can't you let a man finish his waffles first? Take a seat. No badges here." Warblade scoots over and gives Elsa room to sit. Seeing as these people were not going to relent and the place they were in, she sits down, to have some black coffee while she waited.

Shauna grabs the folder and sits on it until everyone finished their meal.

"Hey!" Shauna jabs Wrecker in the arm, one of those playful jabs. One should be more wary of being challenged to staring contests with her though.

Though the agent said nothing, she felt an inner satisfaction at Shauna getting some come-uppance. A little snicker. Nothing big. She switched places with Warblade to sit closer to Wrecker.

"When a metahuman citizen is made to do community service with no prior records or cases, it's usually a one time task. In your case we thought you'd be of use for a prisoner transport. A dangerous meta-being known as the Dark Mime is being transported to a new and improved facility better equipped to hold her."

The file described a villain and a criminal- someone truly heinous, their list of crimes taking up several pages after their bio- murder, arson, robbery, terrorism, and generally an unpleasant character. The Dark Mime was some kind of mute psychopath with "Creative Telekinesis", which detailed how she could make things happen just with her imagination. Also she was still in her 20's it seemed.

"The Dark Mime? Damn... this is some hardcore nutcase villain, Elsa." Shauna looked at the picture of the prisoner Wrecker would assist in relocating. A young woman in thick black and white make up that looked smeared on, wearing a black-and-white horizontal stripped ensemble.

"That's why we need strong, responsible metas with ... altruistic tendencies. Do this and your two weeks service will be over. Refuse, and well..."

There was an option B apparently, if Wrecker didn't have the stomach for escorting dangerous metahuman villains. Elisa brought out the second file that was clipped together. "We could have you take play assistant caregiver to some older metahuman with density manipulation powers; his power though progressed so far and he became so dense, he doesn't even have the strength to move himself, and is barely breathing or has brain activity. So... what's your answer, mister Wrecker?"

"Oh man, that is a nasty way to have your powers go wrong." Shauna commented, sounding truly disgusted... but looking over the metahuman's file with morbid interest, like some kid watching a grisly murder investigation. Warblade too let out a prolonged "daaamn" looking at the giant musclebound coma patient.