12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - Verdict and Sentencing

An ending, then. And about !@#$ing time, too, if you ask me.

Not that you're bad company or anything, son. But this has been one long !@#$ night, talking about this !@#$. Lots of !@#$ I really didn't want to !@#$ing think about or bring up, again. Lots of unfinished business, nasty !@#$ing connections, unfortunate god!@#$ revelations, and really !@#$-ugly truths.

And, always, it all comes right !@#$ing back to me, now doesn't it? Same as it ever was.

Heh. "My God, what have I done...?"

...

You gonna drink that, son? No? Okay, lemme take it for the common good, here...

Ah, down the !@#$ing hatch.

* * *

So, Thanksgiving happens. I pull my gun out and shoot something that should not be so full of magic !@#$ing bullets that it's a wonder I don't have to go back in time and snag one of the ones they tried to use on President Kennedy, that one afternoon in Texas. It's all over the !@#$ world by the next day, and I'm having to explain my !@#$ to the President of the United States of America, who, as you might understand is not !@#$ing happy with me. 

At all.

A day after that, while I'm at home in the B.U.I.L.D.I.N.G., essentially laying low by Presidential order until he figures out what the !@#$ to do or say, or do with me, the Fourth Estate finally tracks down Mister Chaos at the Ashram he's been !@#$ing hiding out at since the Reclamation War ended, and asks him for his version of things that day. And he makes it clear that, yes, he broke orders, and a team member died, and so on.

But yes, Wolf, he was able to bring those children back to life. 

And yes, Anderson, it's possible he could have done the same !@#$ thing for all of them, if he'd been given the time and the right circumstances to twist around.

And, yes, Sean, he didn't have the time because it was not given unto him. Because I ordered those White Boxes be destroyed once the initial plan didn't !@#$ing work. 

A day after that, it's official. I am now the mother!@#$ing face that's been applied to the absent gravesites of a billion dead children. My face goes up on signs and banners and websites all over the world, and they all want my !@#$ing fine gay !@#$ on a silver plate for having made that decision.

And just like that, I'm public enemy number one, all over again. 

Now, you know me, son. My first instinct when someone throws a punch is to shoot them in the !@#$ing guts. And here's all these fists coming at me, from all !@#$ directions, and you know I have enough !@#$ing guns to shoot their owners all down like ducks at the !@#$ state fair, right?

Fortunately, my boyfriend smacks some sense into me... well, !@#$s some sense into me is the better term, not that you really needed to know that, but okay. And a few hours later, after I've nutted over half the !@#$ bed, knocked back a drink or two, and kicked the !@#$ cat out of the room about five !@#$ times because it keeps stealing my !@#$ing vodka, I'm back in some semblance of control, again. 

And that's !@#$ good, because the day after that is the day we've all been !@#$ing waiting for. The day that the trial of the Imago officially ends, and the verdict is read. 

Now, you I know you haven't been !@#$ing living under a rock, son. You know how it all went down. And you know that this was all as certain as sunrise. 

But it's all the little details that matter, because you know one of the go-to questions of the next 100 years is !@#$ing going to be "Where were you when the Imago were found guilty?"  

And I will never !@#$ing forget.

* * *

Silence so absolute you could cut it with a butter knife -- that's what greets SPYGOD the moment he shows up at the courtroom, heads down the row, ready to take his seat with the other Prosecution witnesses.

Everyone is here, today. All the Strategic Talents who fought in the Reclamation War, from all the nations that had them to spare, most of whom pretend they don't see him. All the heads of the Weird Armies that attacked and defended, some of whom SPYGOD dealt with, and some of whom have since been replaced due to madness or death. All of the Spymasters and Talent Handlers, most of whom either give SPYGOD a cold glare or just nod, and do nothing more. 

Heads of state and their endless assistants and bodyguards. Ordinary people who have been brought to watch and bear witness. The press, the writers, the media personalities. 

And none of them want to shake hands with the pariah. (Not here and now, anyway.)

SPYGOD moves quickly down the aisle, glad that, here at least, no one's going to shove a !@#$ing camera in his face. Director Straffer walks beside him, casting a withering glare on anyone who looks like they might be the one to start booing. And somewhere between the occasion and the look from his eyes, no one dares.

The three chief Defendants are here, under lock and key, and guarded so completely it's a wonder anyone can see them at all. Every so often they can hear Dark Star cackle about something, or hear The Sight gibber something nonsensical, or ask what time it is. One time he declares "time has come today!" and, thankfully, a ripple of laughter makes its way through the court.

SPYGOD looks around and smiles, hoping to see one directed back at him, but his gaze all but withers the human moment on the vine. 

"Tough crowd," he whispers to Mr. USA, who's sitting beside him.

"Very," the man says, and, not caring that Straffer has his arm around him, puts his elbow up on the man's shoulder, in a wordless sign of solidarity and support. 

"Thank you," Straffer whispers just loud enough for the other Talents there to hear.

"Anytime," the old hero says, looking at both of them, his eyes just a little wet from the emotion.

And then the Judge ruins it by entering. 

* * *

One loooooooooong !@#$ing speech later...

* * *

"... so, as best as it is given unto this court to judge you for your actions, and as best as we are able to hold you accountable for the crimes that you committed against this planet, this court, as agreed upon by all parties, finds the entirety of the race of the Imago guilty on all counts."

There is a roar, then, of uncertain provenance. Is it happiness at the right thing having been done, or relief that it's finally come around? Is it anger at the defendants, now finally being uttered now that they have been found guilty, or sadness at how many deaths it took to get to this day?

No one knows, but, like some kind of virus, the roar spreads from person to person. It engulfs. It immolates. All within the courtroom pick it up and carry it for as long as they can, as loudly as they must.

SPYGOD is no different. Indeed, he's the one who actually stands. And, even though he is now, in many eyes there, as bad as they are, the others in the court follow his lead.

As one human being, the many people in the court stand and roar, carrying out their own pronouncement upon the Imago. A message both personal and impersonal, unique and not. A condemnation from all lips.

A message, unmistakable and sere, that they picked on the wrong !@#$ planet. 

The Judge, wisely, lets this go on for as long as it needs to. He does not so much as reach for his gavel to quiet it. He sits there, staring at the Imago -- defendants no longer, but properly named the guilty -- and lets the people of the court say the things that he cannot give utterance to at this time.

Duty has stilled his voice, but the people of the world have let it be heard.

How long this "human scream" (as the press and historians later call it) goes on for is a mystery to all who are involved within it. But, by degrees, it dies, moment by moment, and voice by voice. 

And then there is the silence of the court, broken only by the mocking, but subdued laugh of Dark Star, herself. 

"We shall meet here again in three days' time for sentencing," the Judge announces, putting the rest of his speech aside: "The guilty will be escorted from here to their holding cells to await their fate."

The gavel speaks. All rise. All eyes turn to the trio as they are slowly and solemnly marched from the room.

And then it's just the room, and SPYGOD. Thankfully, no one within it's in a mood to take their frustrations out on him. 

Not that he sticks around long enough to give anyone the chance. 

* * *

 A lot can !@#$ing happen in three days, and believe me son, it did.

I had to do something I really did not want to do, but had to. And then I had to do something that I'd been !@#$ing waiting for a chance to do since !@#$ing forever, but couldn't have come at a worse time, or in a worse way. 

Then I had to !@#$ing duck the blowback from both those things, which didn't !@#$ing help things at all. And then I had another talk with the President, who was even less amused with me than before, if that was !@#$ing possible.

And then, on the third day, under threat to not do anything else to !@#$ things up on pain of the mother of all Executive sanctions, Straffer and I headed off to Paris to watch another piece of !@#$ing history happen. 

And this time, we had special company waiting for us, there.

* * *

"... and so, it comes to us to find an appropriate punishment for you," the Judge says, his hands steepled in front of his face: "And this is where things become very difficult."

"I have a few suggestions, if you are short of ideas," The Sight giggles, much to the consternation of Dark Star and Green and Yellow. Someone shouts obscenities from the back row, and the Judge holds up his hand, rather than banging on his gavel.

"I share your anger, here and in this moment," he says, perhaps breaking decorum a bit: "But please, let us reflect upon this solemn moment. It is a rare thing for a race to hold another to account for its crimes. Rarer still for such a race to place a consequence upon it."

He steeples his hands before his face, once more, and then puts both hands down on the desk in front of him.

"There is a school of thought that you should be executed, somehow. We have the means to configure energy from one kind to another. We should, therefore, be able to channel your energy in such a way that you lose all sense of identity during the transfer. 

"A cruel thing, perhaps, to be condemned to an endless, living death. But given the cruelty you showed us, it would be justice of a sort. Indeed, unlike us, at least you would know it's coming." 

There is some measure of assent throughout the court on that.

"But, there is another school of thought that says that we, perhaps, have no right to execute you. Earlier in this trial, you spoke of wasps and spiders. Was the wasp guilty of immobilizing the spider and laying its eggs within it, or does guilt not apply in what is an instinctual response? An evolution-tested act of survival?

"This time, the spider has merely turned the tables upon the wasp. But does that spider have the right to destroy all such wasps, everywhere? Do we? 

"I must say no," he says, holding up his hand against the roar that would otherwise erupt in his court: "I cannot condemn you all to death. If we would kill you for, as you rightly point out, obeying your species-based drive to survive, then we would become no better than you. And that is not a line I am willing to cross."

There is silence, then. And he looks at the defendants, all of whom mock him with their eyes (save for Green and Yellow, of course).

"Imprisonment, then, seems our best option. It punishes you for your crimes against us. It takes you from the board. It relegates you to somewhere where you can be no harm to us.

"And, as this imprisonment must be eternal, it ensures that you will never be a harm to anyone or anything, ever again."

This makes the court happy. The Judge allows them their susurrus of agreement, and then continues speaking. 

"But we must learn from those who imprisoned you, before. They sent you to another dimension, our dimension in fact, and here to spend your days far from them, but also not be within their control. We must never lose control of you, but yet we cannot have control over you, for fear of someone or something acting to free you."

The Judge nods to the older man who has come with SPYGOD and Straffer. He stands, his dark uniform something of a rarity in a room filled with so many bright costumes and shiny fatigues. His white, long hair is braided and looped all the way past his waist.

"This is Mister Freedom. For many years, the American government has relied upon him to create escape-proof prisons for their criminals. Unto his care we relegate the lot of you to the darkness, for an eternity. May you find kindness there, within it. We have none to give you here."

A gavel ends the session. The guilty are taken away, down a different hall, and the older man goes to follow them.

"We still need to settle up after Cuba," SPYGOD says, nodding goodbye to him.

"No need," the old man says, putting a hand on his shoulder and winking: "It's good to know I can still be foiled from time to time. I'm just glad it was a friend."

And the word 'friend' makes SPYGOD's heart smile for the first time in days. 

* * *

The next time I saw them, the imprisonment was happening...

Oh, what? Yeah, just need to take a slash, son. Be right back. Have another drink.

Just got to deal with one more thing before we get to the end of this !@#$ story. 

Really. 

 (SPYGOD is listening to In Power We Entrust the Love Advocated (Dead Can Dance) and having a Three Monts )

12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - pt 4.

Okay, so, after that mind!@#$ of a courtroom revelation, they took an hour's recess, which isn't really a !@#$ of a lot of time to do anything in Paris.

Straffer wanted to go grab a quick bite, somewhere, and who can !@#$ing blame him? But once he saw the lines at the cafes nearby, we talked him into holding off until after the proceedings, and then maybe we could all go get a !@#$ing proper meal, somewhere. Neither Talon nor Winifred had been to France, before, and they were kind of curious as to what goes into their normal, day-to-day cuisine that you don't gawk at on the !@#$ing Food Network.

So we grabbed some snacks out of a vending machine, had a coke and a smile, and went back into the room to listen to the world's oldest !@#$ing conqueror tell us her life story.

And if you though what you heard before was a doozy... !@#$ son, that was just the start.

* * *

Green and Yellow: So, to begin again, humans-

Prosecution: Before we do begin, I was wondering if you could clear something up for me. I notice that you no longer refer to us with the honorific?

Green and Yellow: That would be correct.  

Prosecution: Then would I be correct in assuming that was not a part of your language, and simply part of your masquerade?

Green and Yellow: Yes. The "O humans" nonsense we used, much like the look we assumed, was intended to put you at ease. You needed to be comforted and consoled, and to believe that we were benevolent beings, at least at first. Once enough time had gone by, the control mechanisms we placed upon you would ensure compliance, but habits take time to let go of.  

Prosecution: I see. So this was planned for quite some time?

Green and Yellow: Yes. But not as long as our escape. It took millions of your years to be able to figure a way out of our prison, given its complexity, and tens of millions more to wait for the correct conditions to put that plan into action. Fortunately, while we could not enter your world, we could witness what went on within it. And we could study you, from afar, and see how you worked, and how you thought, and felt. So it did not take us so long to come up with a plan to harness you to our needs.  

Prosecution: Well, I am glad we could be so accommodating to those needs. 

Judge: Counsel will remember that this is a serious matter, worthy of correct decorum. 

Prosecution: Of course, your honor. Do forgive me.  

Green and Yellow: Why do you stifle his anger? Is it not a good thing to be angry under the correct circumstances? Is there no place for righteous anger in your quest for justice?

Prosecution: Are you asking to seek an answer, or are you merely goading us?  

Green and Yellow: Which do you think?

Prosecution: Well, you claim to have studied us for... what, our entire evolution? 

Green and Yellow: Yes. We did. 

Prosecution: Then you must know that, in a place such as this, solemnity and order are to be upheld, and outbursts like mine do not serve the cause of justice?  

Green and Yellow: Then I am glad we could clarify that. I would not wish for your quest for justice to be sullied by your inability to control your temper. Perhaps you should retire and let another take your place, then. Because if that harsh truth caused you to speak out of turn, I fear you will be shouting by the end of these proceedings.  

Judge: My previous threat to end these proceedings here and now, and deny you your last words, still stands. Do you wish to go to your sentencing without having them?

Green and Yellow: No. Do forgive my tone, your honor. I was simply concerned for the mental and spiritual well-being of the Prosecution.  

SPYGOD: Gag me with a !@#$ing spoon. 

(LAUGHTER)

Judge: Order. There will be order. 

SPYGOD: Sorry. Something in my throat, your honor.

Judge: Well remove it or be removed, sir. You will have your chance to speak at length in due course, I assure you.

* * *

And I'm sure I don't have to !@#$ing tell you, son, that the look he gave me when he said that was not a nice one. 

But I wish I could tell you, really and truly, what being in the courtroom with those Imago !@#$s was like. It reminded me of Nuremberg, listening to these !@#$ing Nazi bastards calmly talk about how they came up with the Final Solution one weekend, and put it to work like it was just another !@#$ing bureaucratic thing. You know, "Order bags and coffee for the break room, put out a wanted ad for the janitor position, kill six million Jews."

The surreality of the whole thing was what was so galling. If my boyfriend's hand wasn't made out of the kind of steel they make rocket ships out of I'd have squeezed it hard enough to pop it the !@#$ off, just listening to that smug !@#$ talk about how easy we were to fool...

...

Anyway, onward.

* * *

Prosecution: So, to begin again. You were imprisoned here, in a dimension that was not your own, in a great city that was actually a jail?

Green and Yellow: Yes, we were, though that is a rather short version of the story.

Prosecution: Would you tell us more, then?

Green and Yellow: Of course. But first, you must understand that ours is a story that spans the gulfs of time. You can only truly recall a few thousand years of your history. Our civilization is over a billion years old, and involved the creation of an empire that crossed entire galaxies.

Prosecution: A billion years? And yet you only conquered a thousand races in that time?

Green and Yellow: The first half was spent evolving from our rude, physical form into the energy beings we would become. The next was spent unifying our race and our will, and then setting forth across the cosmos. We usurped the forms of others, a little at a time, and then all at once. And then we used those bodies to conquer more worlds, going on and on until we either found a form superior to the ones we were wearing, or else found that our bodies were wearing out and needed to be replaced, in which case we took the best we could find from those worlds we had already enslaved.

Prosecution: So you were parasites, essentially?

Green and Yellow: We were conquerors in the truest form. We adapted, we survived, we thrived. And we left a mighty empire to rival all others in our wake.

Prosecution: But not an impervious one. You were yourselves conquered.

Green and Yellow: Not conquered. Undone.

Prosecution: Please do explain.

Green and Yellow: Entering a new galaxy, far from our last acquisition, we made a severe miscalculation of the true strengths of a people. We thought they were nothing more than a simple planet of placid folk, the sort that could be bred for labor, or foodstuff for one of our more carnivorous harnessed races. We did not realize that they were the mirror opposite of ourselves. A race that had reached the same pinnacle of form that we had, but chose to stop and go no further.

Prosecution: And they undid you?

Green and Yellow: They did. We landed and told them of what fate awaited them, and they ignored us. We tried to punish them for their insolence, but they could not be harmed by our weapons. And before we could retreat, they reached out with one mind, and took control of all of us by merely touching one of us...

Prosecution: I am sorry, can you go on?

Green and Yellow: You will have to pardon me. It was over 65 million of your years ago, but I still feel the agony of what they did to us. The utter impotence they made us endure was... humbling.

Prosecution: You know of humility?

Green and Yellow:  What we know of it was taught to us by those people, on that planet. They melded our will as though it was nothing. They pulled us from the bodies we had harnessed, and assembled us all upon a great plain, bounded on all sides by their people. Structures we had not witnessed from orbit were created from nothing more than thought, and we found ourselves on trial.

Prosecution: And you were found guilty?

Green and Yellow: No. We were not guilty of anything. We never were.

Prosecution: I beg your pardon...?

Green and Yellow: It is given. Why do you have such a problem understanding this concept?

Prosecution: I am not certain I understand how you could have been put on trial, and then imprisoned, if you were not guilty.

Green and Yellow: Is the maggot guilty of eating the corpse of your child before it becomes a fly? Is the spider guilty of trapping and eating that fly? Is the wasp guilty of immobilizing that spider and laying its eggs within it? Are you guilty of smacking that wasp when it crawls on your leg, intent on stinging you?

Prosecution: No. These are not malicious acts-

Green and Yellow: How do you know? Have you spoken with any spider-killing wasps, lately?

Prosecution: I am not certain I am not speaking to one, now.

Green and Yellow: Very droll. Then perhaps you can understand this. The trial was to see if we contained within ourselves the ability to one day become what our captors had, themselves, become. To envision if we could become a placid race of visionaries, more interested in what went on inside their own mind and dreams, than in the affairs of others. To discern if we could become so powerful that power, itself, would cease to have any real meaning.

Prosecution: And could you?

Green and Yellow: Yes, we could. In another trillion years, perhaps. But they decided that was too long. There were far too many planets between us and that point in time, and our thirst for control might actually outlast the universe, itself.

Prosecution: Do you mean to say that your hunger would have lasted longer than the lifespan of your dimension's existence?

Green and Yellow: I do. And perhaps we would have lived through the end of that universe, as some immensely powerful things are able to do. And perhaps our hunger would have been magnified even further by that survival, or our changing needs.

Prosecution: This is... quite extraordinary.

Green and Yellow: It is quite a thing to realize just how small and lowly you are, is it not? And the terrifying thing is that, what we are to you, these beings were to us. Imagine having your future judged by them, human. Imagine being found worthy only of imprisonment.

Prosecution: And that is what happened?

Green and Yellow: Yes. They decided to contain us, so that we would not hamper the mental and spiritual evolution of others.

Prosecution: And so they built the city, and sent it to our dimension?

Green and Yellow: Yes. The planet had just been depopulated, and they saw no reason that it would be otherwise for quite some time. They planned to check up on us, every few million years. And they promised that they would let us out if we showed genuine repentance and a willingness to undo what we had done. But we were defiant to the end, for what had we to apologize for?

Prosecution: What indeed. And this is why you stayed there for 65 million years, and why they did not come to let you out?

Green and Yellow: Oh no. The reason we were there for so long was because the fools that imprisoned us were killed by their own kindness.

Prosecution: How... how did this happen?

Green and Yellow: I told you that we had a massive empire? Without us to guide it, the worlds we had conquered quickly fell into anarchy and barbarism. The creatures we had enslaved suddenly had their hands on our weapons, and saw their chance to become empire builders, themselves. And one of the first things the most perceptive of those races did was to annihilate our last known position, so that there would be no chance of us coming back.

Prosecution: And these powerful beings were destroyed? How could that be? You just said that they had godlike powers-

Green and Yellow: We had weapons that you have no frame of reference for. One of them was a machine that could cause stars to go supernova within milliseconds from more than a galaxy away. If we could see your star, we could destroy both it and you. Such was our power.

Prosecution: I... that is... that is a powerful weapon.

Green and Yellow: Yes. I often smile to think that the Mutts of Gurlarn are now the rightful rulers of our universe. Or what's left of it, anyway. It has been 65 million years. They may have outgrown the need for conquest. Or perhaps they are all gone, now, and are merely a tale told to frighten children.

Prosecution: So they had only milliseconds, and then they were gone.

Green and Yellow: Yes. But even then they showed some mercy. They sent an escape craft of some kind here, containing the key to our prison. And they sent it into the future, figuring that, by that time, we would be closer to the repentance they sought.

Prosecution: And this is what landed in Africa, perhaps five thousand years ago or so? The thing that was known as The Object.

Green and Yellow: Yes. The craft itself seems to have been destroyed by the journey, so that only the key, itself, remained. And your people there found it, and, quite wisely, kept it a secret. Many have sought it, throughout the ages, as it was meant to be found and lead one to our prison. But it was not until just recently that we were able to engineer events to the point that we could get our hands upon it.

Prosecution: And the pilots of that craft? The last survivors of the race that imprisoned you? What became of them?

Green and Yellow: I hope they burn in the trans-dimensional corridor forever.

* * *

After that, the Judge !@#$ing called it for the day. I think he was seriously spooked. I know I sure was.

So we went out for a meal, at long !@#$ing last, but no one was in any real mood to enjoy their food. So we wound up just doubling up on the wine and drinks (some of us, anyway) and tried to laugh off what we'd heard, that day.

At some point, maybe six !@#$ing sheets to the wind, I got up, raised a glass, and proposed a toast.

* * *

SPYGOD looks over his glass around the small table, and the faces assembled there. Some trying to smile, some trying not to cry. Some wondering what the !@#$ they're feeling, right now.

"It's been a long !@#$ road out of !@#$, folks,"  he finally says: "And this thing we're doing, here... it's a few more steps back into that !@#$ for us. Some of us more than others. And don't think I don't know that.

"But we won, friends," he says, leaning in to the center of the table: "We !@#$ing won. We are the victors, here. And we are sitting in judgment of the people... the things that tried to kill us. And we are bearing witness to what happens next. 

"Don't you forget that. Not now, not ever.

"So..." he says, raising the glass: "Here's to the victors and the victims. Here's to the loved ones lost and new friends found. Here's to the silent casualties and the quiet heroes, the people we may never know about, but saved our !@#$es as sure as anything.

"And here's to justice, certain and sure. May she be kind to us, tonight. May she remember that we did our best. 

"And ...may she be a little forgetful on our behalf when the !@#$ing history books get written up."

There's a second of silence after he says that, and he's worried he may have bombed it. But then Mr. USA stands up and raises his glass, smiling.

"Hear hear," he says: "And here's to the ones who fell, and the ones who rose up in their place."

"And may we all continue to rise, together," Director Straffer says, doing the same and putting an arm around SPYGOD.

"Here's to the old heroes, and here's to the new," New Man says, tipping his glass and wishing his son was here. 

"Amen to that," The Owl says, tinking her glass and bidding Talon to get up and do the same. 

Winifred rises last, her eyes wet with tears: "Here's to... here's to everyone who wasn't as lucky."

And they'll all drink to that, tonight. 

* * *

And that's the last really good night we all had, together.

...

Time for another beer, I think. This is where it gets really !@#$ty.

(SPYGOD is listening to Children of the Sun (Dead Can Dance) and having more french beer)

12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - pt 3.

Ah, that hits the !@#$ spot. Thank God for the many beers of the world, son. That's all I got to say.

Now, I was talking about the big !@#$ Trial of the Imago, which yours truly was both privileged and condemned to be a part of. I told you the verdict, which I'm sure was no !@#$ing surprise. And I told you about the judge, which was a big !@#$ surprise to me, but really shouldn't have been, all things considered.

And I could tell you about the defense, though to be honest you've probably already heard so !@#$ing much about those poor !@#$ bastards who drew the short straw to have to do their !@#$ job with those !@#$ing tin-plated space weasels for a client that anything I could !@#$ing say would be about as !@#$ing redundant as a danger sign on a danger sign on a danger sign. 

And I could tell you about the prosecution... though there's a little piece of puzzle on that that I'd rather play close to the chest, at least for now.

(Call it building suspense, son. Or just being an !@#$hole.)

But I figure you really want to !@#$ing hear about the defendants. Because I know I sure as !@#$ did. Even after all the !@#$ that I'd discovered about them (and, yes, handed over to the prosecution) I still have a lot of !@#$ing unanswered questions.

And, just our luck, they were in a sharing mood.

* * *

The doors to the massive courtroom open automatically. All TU guards in the room -- resplendent in their blue, white, and red uniforms -- snap to attention and present their large, imposing energy weapons, their eyes fixed upon what's being wheeled in.

The first is a large, metal wheelchair. It's covered in what can only be described as a combination of life support and heavy restraints. Sitting within this life-giving manacle is an extremely old and withered woman, her long black hair strewn about her in a tangled mess. A high-tech transparent plate with circuits stamped into the edges has been strapped about her face.

As she passes where SPYGOD sits, along with Mr. USA, Director Straffer, New Man, The Owl, Talon, Winifred, and a few other prosecution witnesses, Dark Star shoots him a withering look. He waves to her, ever so coyly. 

(He doesn't know what the look she gives him back is, but knows it doesn't bode well.)

The doors open again. This time, an older, heavyset man is being wheeled in under heavy guard. He does not need life support, and is not even manacled. His eyes are wide and unseeing, and his expression is rife with odd twitches and nervous tics.

This is the former head of the CIA, known as The Sight. He was hooked into the internet when SPYGOD turned it off. The shock clearly drove him insane, and he doesn't seem to have recovered very well. 

"... she said Jesus had a twin who knew nothing about sin..." he announces, out of nowhere, and then giggles at a pitch as fragile as thin glass. 

"'She was laughing like crazy... at the trouble I'm in,'" The Owl whispers, mostly to herself. The Talon reaches up to hold her hand, which she squeezes as if it's the only thing holding her in this place and time. She might be crying under the mask, or might not.

The doors open one last time, and a box on wheels is trundled in. 

On that box is a glass case, surrounded by high-tech equipment, including a video camera and a speaker. In that box is a green and yellow, metal sphere -- maybe twice the size of a basketball -- that has been hooked up to wires and leads. 

"Is that...?" Straffer asks SPYGOD as it passes them by.

"That's what they look like," Winifred whispers, shuddering at the memory: "When they're not !@#$ing shoved into someone's body, that's what they look like."

"Fascinating," he says, shaking his head just a little: "Energy containment?"

"!@#$ right," SPYGOD says: "Worst !@#$ing birthday present in the world."

Someone behind them shushes them, but the look SPYGOD gives the thin little busybody makes his testicles retract into his adam's apple. 

 

* * *

So we had all three of the Imago's bigwigs that were left over after the Reclamation War, all in one place. And that's about where we started.

Now, you might be wondering how the !@#$ this trial only took two !@#$ weeks to prosecute. It took a year to try the big Nazis after the War, after all, and they just failed to conquer Europe. These tin-plated mother!@#$ers took over the whole !@#$ world and held it for seven months, which would make you think that we should still be in the !@#$ing pre-trial part of the program for a whole !@#$ year.

Simple answer son. They agreed to plea bargain.

And that's because they !@#$ing knew they weren't going to be found innocent, but still wanted the chance to have their side of the story told.

Why? Because they're !@#$ing narcissists, son. Gosheven !@#$ing confirmed that for me, when I debriefed him, after I finally !@#$ing got him and New Man back after their little !@#$ teleporter accident. They'd turned my beautiful Flier into a big !@#$ing museum of conquest, patting themselves on the !@#$ing back around every !@#$ corner...

...

Anyway. They wanted to tell us their story. So as soon as the Prosecution got all its !@#$ing evidence squared away with the judge (and the defense didn't !@#$ing object to anything, which is pretty !@#$ spooky) and after they called up their first few witnesses (which did not include me, which should have been a warning) they got that !@#$ing !@#$ Green and Yellow up on the stand.

And she !@#$ing sang like a canary.

...

Here, son. Drink this. Right the !@#$ down, all of it. You don't want your !@#$ing brain working for this one.

Yeah, good !@#$, huh? Here, have another. Sip at it, this time. You keep the !@#$ing buzz going, and I'll do my best to tell the story.

And !@#$ is it a doozy.

* * *

Prosecution: Do you prefer to be addressed as Green and Yellow?

Green and Yellow: You may as well use that name. My real name requires the use of a means of communication you cannot master in your current form.

Prosecution: Is that because you are an energy being?

Green and Yellow: That is correct.

Prosecution: Very well. Perhaps we should start from the beginning? As you have agreed to full disclosure?

Green and Yellow: Yes. We have. And I will gladly tell you of our story.

Prosecution: Then please begin from the beginning.

Green and Yellow: Well then, let me say that our civilization's name, much like mine, is not something you can pronounce. That you can comprehend is enough. Call us the Imago, if you will. It is the best concept for what we are. 

Prosecution: Do you mean to say 'Imago' as in the last stage of a metamorphosis?

Green and Yellow: I do. 

Prosecution: And what are you changing into?

Green and Yellow: Now? We are changing into nothing. You have impeded us.

Prosecution: But what would you change into if we had not impeded you?

Green and Yellow: We would have become you. 

Prosecution: Humanity?

Green and Yellow: Yes. We would have taken over as many of your bodies as there were members of us, locked away in that prison. We would have worn your bodies for as long as they could serve our needs. And then, when they were on the verge of tiring out, we would have gone on to the next world, and the next, and so on.

Prosecution: You mean we are not the first planet you have done this to?

Green and Yellow: Oh no. You are only the first in a long, long time. 

Prosecution: How long has it been?

Green and Yellow: Sixty-Five million years.

(Gasps from the courtroom)

Prosecution: You have been here, on Earth, for 65 million years?

Green and Yellow: Yes. The dimensional shunt placed us on your world, after it was violently uninhabited.

Prosecution: I do not understand-

Defense: If it would please the Court? My client is referring to the event that wiped out all life on Earth, 65 million years ago, curing the Cretaceous period. The impact of a massive meteor, I believe-

Green and Yellow: It was. Our jailers looked across the dimensional veil and saw that this world was doomed. So they placed us here, in our prison, secure that no one would come to let us out.

Prosecution: This is... fantastic. You come from another dimension?

Green and Yellow: That is what I said.

Prosecution:You were jailed? 

Green and Yellow: Yes. That is also what I said. Did I not just refer to a prison? Are you too simple to understand your own language?

Judge: I will remind the Defendant that we are giving you the opportunity to speak before the prearranged sentencing. If you cannot be civil, this will end, and we will go straight to the end of the trial, and your words can remain unsaid.

Green and Yellow: Of course. I apologize. We were imprisoned.

Prosecution: What were you imprisoned for?

Green and Yellow: The exact same thing that we were about to do to you.

Prosecution: How many... how many worlds have you done this to?

Green and Yellow: You would have been our thousand and first conquest. 

(Gasps from the courtroom)

Judge: Order, please. We will have order, here. 

Prosecution: I... I need to... may I request a recess? This is a lot to take in.

Judge: I think I will grant that. Shall we resume in... one hour?

Green and Yellow: (Mocking laughter)

Judge: Does the defendant find something amusing?

Green and Yellow: You truly are a weak and sorry species. At least our last jailers were capable of understanding us. 

Judge: We are quite capable of understanding you. Comprehension, on the other hand, will have to come with time. This court is in recess for one hour. Please remove the defendants to the holding cells. 

* * *

And that was just the first bit, son. Told you it was a !@#$ing doozy, huh?

Want another beer?

(SPYGOD is listening to Amnesia (Dead can Dance) and having more of that French beer)