12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - pt 6.

Yeah, drink that !@#$ing beer down, son. We're operating at six for me to one for you, and this part needs a good !@#$ drunk to be able to tell.

So where were we? Oh yes. Oldest living withered crone hosting a malevolent alien intelligence just outed yours truly in court. Everyone there's just wheeled around to look at my fine, gay !@#$, and all I can do is stare back and shrug... at least for a moment.

And then I realize exactly what she means. And it takes everyone there to keep me from pulling out the two guns they didn't  !@#$ing confiscate and shoot the nasty !@#$ full of holes, right then and there.

* * *

SPYGOD: You !@#$ing genocidal whore! You !@#$ing !@#$headed smear of ET !@#$! I'm going to shoot you so !@#$ing full of lead they'll be picking !@#$ing pieces of you out of the walls in !@#$ing Norway, you withered... gah... (incoherent cursing)

Dir. Straffer: (REDACTED), this is no good. Please, calm down.

Judge: Order! There will be order, here!

Dark Star: (Maniacal, incoherent laughter)

Mr. USA: Stop it, (REDACTED). Please. It's alright.

SPYGOD: The !@#$ it is! She's the one! She's the one who !@#$ing set us up, (REDACTED)! She's the one who !@#$ing set us against each other-

Mr. USA: I know. We both know, now. Let her finish the story. 

SPYGOD: I've !@#$ing heard enough-

Judge: If you have, indeed, heard enough, then perhaps you should leave the courtroom until we are ready for you to give testimony, Msr. SPYGOD.

Defense: If it would please the court, I would like to recommend he be removed entirely. I think we would be poorly served by letting a witness for the prosecution kill one of the defendants. 

Winifred: Speak for yourself, !@#$face.

Judge: Young lady, you will be quiet-

Defense: Nothing he has to say is of any use to the conclusion of this trial, quite frankly. It can be entered into evidence without his presence.

Prosecution: I respectfully disagree. I would really prefer to have him here.

Judge: Very well. If we are done trying to kill the defendant...?

SPYGOD: ... yes. I'm done.

Judge: Are you, msr. SPYGOD?

SPYGOD: I am, yes. 

Judge: Good. Then we shall take an hour's recess, and come back to this point. In the meantime, Msr. SPYGOD, I suggest you relinquish all your weapons before re-entering the courtroom. One more outburst of any kind from you, armed or not, and I will throw so many contempt charges upon you that you will wish you were sharing the defendants' fate. And that goes for you too, young lady. 

SPYGOD: She'll behave herself, your honor. We all will.

Judge: See that you do. This court is adjourned.

* * *

Oh yeah, that was embarrassing as !@#$. I really don't like people to know that I have those guns, any more than I like them knowing about the sword, or a few other nasty !@#$ tricks I've got up my sleeve.

As for self control issues, well, !@#$, son, we just listened to that !@#$ cackle about eating the world's children for fuel and running their parents' electric cars on the overflow current. If anything, everyone in that courtroom should have been pulling out hidden weapons and carving the !@#$ up like it was !@#$ing Christmas.

(Especially Winifred. After what she went through I'd have !@#$ing applauded if she'd grabbed one of my pieces and let the !@#$ have it.)

But yes, I bet I know what you're thinking. How the Prosecution just sort of rolled the !@#$ over, there? Well, it will be important, later. But for now let's go on with the big !@#$ story, here.

So they let us out, and I hand over my guns like a naughty schoolkid who got caught with a paper airplane. Then we all go downstairs, and the first thing my boyfriend asks me is "how many things?"

And I say "A whole !@#$ing room."

A minute or two later I'm !@#$ing smashing tables, windows, and computers in a small room no one's using. Straffer's in the room, watching to make sure I don't go out of control, and the Owl's outside, running sonic interference. Everyone else is off getting coffee or a smoke or !@#$ knows what. 

And I smash and crash and break and wreck !@#$ing everything in there until I can finally stop seeing red, and start breathing regular again. And then I'm two seconds away from needing the mother of all drunks to !@#$ing kick in and knock my brain back from thinking. But fortunately Straffer's there to smack some sense into me and tell me I'm no good to anyone if I'm blasted out of my mind and hallucinating, again.

Yes, it involves the mother of all kisses, son. And thank !@#$ he's good at those. 

So we brush off as much of the sawdust and plaster flecks as will come loose, I wash up in the men's, and we get the !@#$ out of there before anyone walks in and has the mother of all freak-outs at what happened to a large room full of innocent office stuff.

Then we're all back upstairs, and I'm back in the courtroom with that nasty, withered !@#$, again. And she's just looking at me, quietly cackling. 

And I know we're in for a good time, now. 

* * *

Prosecution: So, to begin again? You said that SPYGOD was the one who told you that this... I'm not certain how you say it-

Dark Star: (UNINTELLIGIBLE CONCEPT), human.

Prosecution: Yes. That. He told you it was coming?

Dark Star: Yes, he did. And he was not alone-

Prosecution: Is that man in this courtroom?

Dark Star: No, he is not.

Prosecution: I am not certain what you mean. 

Dark Star: There's this SPYGOD, here, who at least has the courage of his convictions. And then there is another SPYGOD. Someone you have not met, perhaps, but someone you have seen.

Prosecution: And when have we seen him?

Dark Star: Shooting the American President on television, of course...

(GASPS)

Dark Star: ...except that was not the President, either. Except that it was. 

Prosecution: I do not understand...?

Defense: This is new to me as well. We did not discuss this.

Dark Star: Allow me to explain. There is another Earth, traveling besides yours in space. It is your closest parallel, and it is, to your sensibilities, at least, a dark reflection of this one. Those scientists who know of it call it Alter-Earth. And I suspect its existence has been kept a secret to avoid panic, as well as having to avoid telling your rather squeamish citizens about what things are like there.

Prosecution: And how are they?

Dark Star: Quite hideous. I think I will spare you the details, given how poorly you took the truth about what we did to you, for all those months. 

Prosecution: And what is your connection to this world? This Alter-Earth?

Dark Star: A very complicated one, now. Initially it was so much simpler. We had each had information that the other wanted. But then we took advantage of a coincidence too great to leave alone, and then things became rather... baroque, for want of a better word. 

Prosecution: You have our full attention, I assure you.

Dark Star: In the early 1950's, we were clandestinely approached by two individuals, both claiming to speak for their world. A man and a woman, both possessed of a fierce intelligence and very savage appetites. They had actually been here for at least a decade before, she infiltrating certain circles within America's Strategic Talents, and he lurking in the background, keeping an eye on certain developments. 

Prosecution: Certain circles? Could you be more specific?

Dark Star: When she surrendered to the Allies, after your second World War, she claimed to be Dr. Gertrude Hoffstatler. I believe you know her better as Dr. Geri Yesterday? 

Prosecution: The wife of the late Dr. Robert Yesterday? The one you took over and turned into, the Motion, was it?

Dark Star: The same.

* * *

Now, right about now, Mr. USA and I are !@#$ing looking at each other. And neither of us is wanting to say what this means. 

You'll remember that, a long !@#$ing time ago, I told you that Gertrude was the conjoined twin of Gerde Hoffstatler, who learned a lot of sick !@#$ at the vivisection lab of Dr. Josef Mengele. Gerde who vanished after the War only to show up later as the !@#$ing leader of HONEYCOMB. Gerde who then spent way too much !@#$ing time telling us how we really should just accept her crazy-!@#$ ideas of a perfect planet, under her rule. 

But then, we only had Gertrude's word to go on that, now didn't we? That Gerde had a conjoined twin was a matter of record, given the exactitude of German pre-war records. But could we be so !@#$ing sure that the Gertrude we knew was the actual twin?

Think about it, son. For all we know, the nasty scar on her back could have been self-inflicted. Or maybe there was a Gertrude and Gerde over on Alter-Earth, and they were separated as well? What would have stopped her from killing the real Gertrude at some point and taking her place?

And it's not like we actually got the !@#$ing chance to interrogate Gerde, now did we? Crazy !@#$ jumped to a nasty, atomic death the second she realized the main H.I.V.E. was compromised, back during OPERATION BUGSMASH.

So that was our little mind!@#$, right there. The nice person who made cookies, talked sense into her crazy!@#$ husband the mad scientist, and actually did the real brainwork when her hubby couldn't figure out what to do was actually an evil twin, all along. 

And that meant that she'd had access to !@#$ing everything all along.

So we looked at each other, and the look he gave me was something along the lines of "We need to talk, later."

And mine said "You're god!@#$ !@#$ing right."

Back to the front of the courtroom:

* * *

Prosecution: And who was the other?

Dark Star: At first, we did not know. She said he was her protector, and he did not care to speak. But we soon came to realize that he was as much a part of the venture as she was. He just preferred not to converse with her in front of us, so they could conspire and have their lies well-prepared.

Prosecution: So these were not trustworthy allies?

Dark Star: Far from it. On Alter-Earth, duplicity is the norm. To be honest is to be weak. And weakness is destroyed, along with the weak. 

Prosecution: I see. So you eventually discovered that this man was SPYGOD's... twin?

Dark Star: Yes. The same man, in most respects, but just slightly different.

Prosecution: Similar enough to be able to kill the American President on television and have others believe it was him?

Dark Star: Similar enough to pass any number of mental and physical scans, so that there was no doubt amongst America's Strategic Talents that SPYGOD was the culprit.

Prosecution: But that would not come until much later. What did they come to you for, and with, initially?

Dark Star: A cooperative project, designed to save both of us from the onslaught of (Unintelligible Concept). 

Prosecution: And how did they know of it?

Dark Star: Their parallel had also been visited by a reflection of it, roughly a million of their years ago. Unlike this world, records of that time survived, handed down from the advanced race that once lived on that world and was destroyed by nascent humanity, there. They knew it was coming, and had some ideas on how to stop it. But they needed access to our world to see if their plans had merit. 

Prosecution: Why?

Dark Star: Two reasons. This world is actually going to be the first one visited, by a factor of a year and three months. They hoped to see if their device worked here, first, before trying it on their world. And, as we later learned, were also quietly planning to move their own people over here once the thing had been and gone, in case the device did not work. That way they could either wait here for their world to be ravaged, and then return, or else rebuild on this new Earth. 

Prosecution: And the other reason?

Dark Star: Apparently, when our world was visited, it was not ravaged as badly as theirs was. There was something here that kept it from being completely annihilated, and drove it off, to an extent. 

Prosecution: Which something was that?

Dark Star: That is not known, even to us. But we know it has something to do with the structure in ABWEHR's Antarctic redoubt, which you call the Ice Palace. The answer lies within the Chamber, and she had quite a bit of access to it, once your SPYGOD took control of it, and after, once it was just her and Dr. Yesterday and the United Nations watching over it. 

Prosecution: And did she discover what she needed to know?

Dark Star: That is the strange thing. She never told us. After she shot Dr. Yesterday, thus denying us a total copy of his mind and inventive skills, she left us. 

Prosecution: Now why would she do that?

Dark Star: We do not know. We tried to get her protector to tell us why, but he claimed ignorance. He said that this was just her way, and that if she fouled up our plans it was doubtlessly for a good purpose. And as a sign of his good faith, such as it was, he continued on with the plan to replace the American president, and kill the replacement on live television, thus discrediting SPYGOD and keeping him from stopping us. 

Prosecution: And this plan was yours?

Dark Star: It was. We needed him out of the way, you see. We knew that, if he knew what we had planned, and what we really were, he would stop at nothing to destroy us. We initially thought we could wait to do this, of course, but then he decided to go on the offensive, after decades of a somewhat pathetic stalemate. So we had to advance our plans, and perhaps this was too much too fast for Geri's liking? We do not know. 

Prosecution: What else did this plan entail?

Dark Star: Oh, many years of small things. Once we realized that her protector was the near-exact duplicate of SPYGOD, we decided to have some fun. There were many times that he was less than sober, thanks to his personal failings. On those times, we would sometimes have him pretend to be him, and do strange and unsettling things to make him seem less reputable an individual. And since he would not remember these things, he could not say whether he'd done them and forgotten, or not. And he'd either deny it, or blame it on mind control. (evil cackle)

Prosecution: Well, that's quite diabolical-

Dark Star: Oh, that's nothing. When we learned that Mr. USA and SPYGOD had been feuding since World War II, we decided to make certain that America's most powerful superhero was also neutralized. 

Prosecution: What...? How?

The Owl: What?

Dark Star: We found out his darkest secret, and used it against him. And we had our SPYGOD call him up, and threaten to take full advantage of it, if he didn't do what we wanted. 

Prosecution: And what did you have him do-

Mr. USA: I killed people. 

(Gasps)

Judge: Sir, you are out of order.

SPYGOD: (REDACTED) Sit down and shut up. 

Mr. USA: I sat on my hands and did nothing while terrible things were going on. I looked the other way and let them do whatever they wanted. I remained silent, though I wanted to scream. And I betrayed my world, my nation, my oaths, and my friends. 

SPYGOD: Oh god...

Mr. USA: And I did it all for love, which is pretty sad when you think about it. 

Dark Star: Yes, it is. (maniacal laughter)

* * *

And that was the end of that day's worth of testimony. 

And the end of a few other things, besides.

(SPYGOD is listening to Kiko (Dead Can Dance) and having a Tenebreuse)

12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - pt 5.

The next day of testimony was nowhere near as much of a mind!@#$ as the day before. We didn't talk about other !@#$ing dimensions, space gods in disguise, or the like.

Instead, we talked about horror.

See, it's like I said, son. I was at !@#$ing Nuremberg. I remember everything that went on there, clear as a !@#$ing bell. I remember when they grilled the architects of the final !@#$ing solution about what the !@#$ they were thinking when they just sort of decided to !@#$ing kill the millions of people they'd told their citizens it was !@#$ing okay to hate, fear, and turn in for a big !@#$ "Attaboy, Citizen."

And I remember them just sitting there, in the witness box, and telling the story like it was !@#$ing nothing. Just another !@#$ day at the office with Adolph and Heinrich... 

...

And I also remember that I wasn't at Nuremberg, actually. I was somewhere else. Somewhere I'm still not !@#$ing allowed to talk about.

Now how the !@#$ing !@#$ did that happen? It's like I can remember it, clear as !@#$ing day. The whole !@#$ing thing, too...

...

Okay, another mystery for another !@#$ing day when I'm not trying to tell a !@#$ story. Maybe it's the beer, or maybe it's weird-!@#$ !@#$ I don't have time to deal with, right the !@#$ now. Onward we go.

I was at the Imago Trials. I sat, I listened, I mostly kept my !@#$ mouth shut, and then I testified.

And then I !@#$ed myself. Hard.

But we're getting to that. Really.

* * *

Prosecution: ... so you eventually figured out how to escape the prison this other, more powerful race had constructed for you.

Green and Yellow: Yes. Obviously. 

Prosecution: And what happened then?

Green and Yellow: We marshaled all the energy we had been saving for millions of your years. We focused it on one small, tiny corner of the city. We threw everything we had at that corner, with no regard for our own lives or safety. We all lost much of ourselves in the gambit, and some of us lost their lives...

Prosecution: I'm sorry? Was there something more?

Green and Yellow: Oh yes. There was something more, and now it is gone. If I had but a tenth of the power I once had, I could kill everyone in this room, here and now, with barely a thought. I could destroy most of the city immediately thereafter. I would not need to steal your bodies to do it, either. 

Prosecution: But you are diminished?

Green and Yellow: I am. We are. We crippled ourselves trying to escape. 

Prosecution: Did you know this would happen?

Green and Yellow: Yes we did. We were not stupid. But our love for one another was so great that we would have all gladly laid down our lives just so that one could leave the prison, and see our race returned to glory.

Prosecution: And one of you did manage to leave?

Green and Yellow: You ask me a question you already know the answer to. 

Judge: He did, yes. Please answer that question. 

Green and Yellow: One of us did escape, yes.

Prosecution: Is this person here, today?

Green and Yellow: She is, yes. To me, she is Absolute Black and Bright White. You know her as Dark Star. 

Prosecution: She does not look like you.

Green and Yellow: No, she does not. Her encounter suit was discarded long ago, when she made contact with the human she harnessed.

Prosecution: And just for clarification, by "harnessed," you mean "took over."

Green and Yellow: Yes. She came upon a small, fishing vessel, far off course. Inside of it was a young girl who had been thrown out to sea in a storm. Everyone else on board had been long dead, and she was insane from thirst and hunger. So I suppose what my sister did to her was something of a mercy.

Prosecution: Killing her.

Green and Yellow: You make it sound so pedestrian. We do not kill. 

Prosecution: I beg your pardon-

Green and Yellow: It is given. We are the Imago, human. We change. We absorb. We harness. That young, dying girl was harnessed by Absolute Black and Bright White. Her memories, experience, and skills were absorbed by her, and added to us. She lives on in us, as has every human we have absorbed. We have given her immortality. 

Prosecution: Did you ask, first?

Green and Yellow: Of course not. Did you ask your last meal if it minded that you add it to you, for as long as you might live?

Prosecution: I happen to be vegetarian, but-

Green and Yellow: Oh, the things I could tell you. 

Judge: Perhaps it would be best if you confined yourself to the questions you are asked. 

Green and Yellow: Of course, your honor. Do forgive me, human. Your meal was mindless and asking for it.

Prosecution: Well... I am certain a large number of people around the world just breathed a sigh of relief.

Green and Yellow: But now you know how we see you. 

* * *

What they talked about then was mostly nothing you don't already !@#$ing know about, courtesy of my explosive fact-finding missions in China. But it did fill in some gaps.

The monster wearing the girl was Absolute Black and Bright White, and she was something of a legend to the Imago. I guess that's why Dark Star could !@#$ing suck the life and memories out of your !@#$ head by just !@#$ing making eye contact, instead of having to !@#$ing touch you, like the others. She fed off sealife and anything else she could get her !@#$ eyes on, and rowed back to shore, somehow. 

And then she !@#$ing blended in, using her skills to infiltrate the military in the best way she could. She let those degenerate !@#$s in the Japanese underworld take her off to the brothel, knowing she'd make military contacts once her skills were noticed. After that, it was Manchuria, Unit 731, the creation of GORGON for her own needs, and then she !@#$ing vanishes, leaving the Japanese high and dry just as the War's come back to their !@#$ing doorsteps. 

After that, the Imago had learned enough about human biology to be able to modify it to their needs. And their number one !@#$ing need was to open their prison up and let them all out. But the people who'd thrown them in there had been smarter than that: you couldn't get out (in !@#$ing theory, anyway) and you couldn't get in, either. Not without the !@#$ing key.

And that thing was well !@#$ hidden, thank you very !@#$ing much. 

So they went out into the world to try and find the !@#$ thing. And that's when GORGON came to be, as I understood it. Or at least !@#$ing thought I understood it. All the time they were doing crazy super-science-terrorist !@#$, they were actually looking for the Object. Which, now that I think about it, explains a whole !@#$ of a lot.

And when they weren't doing that, they were !@#$ing marshaling their forces, and copying their technology as best they could from outside the prison. They were also taking control of the things that their jailers had patrolling the outskirts of their !@#$ing city, just in case something came back to try and bust them out.

Yes, son. The DEROS. Those massive things weren't supposed to be in league with the Imago, or GORGON. They were supposed to be watchdogs. But I guess if you beat and feed someone else's dog long enough, it'll start calling you master. And that also explains a whole !@#$ of a lot.

So they took control of the outside of their jail as best as they could, and used the DEROS to provide energy and defense. And they made massive submarine bases around their new tools, and infested the !@#$ing Irian Jaya. All getting ready for the day they got their !@#$ turtles in a row, and could march them into the !@#$ing sea in triumph.

And then, at long !@#$ing last, they found it, and then they took it. They were able to go down and open the prison up, and let their people out.

Which is where the really sick !@#$ began.

...

So that's the last they got out of Green and Yellow, for that day. They had an hour recess, we all got some snacks and came back, and when they started back up again they got that withered old Dark Star !@#$ up on the stand.

Now, you have to remember, son -- this !@#$ is nasty. This is the one who can !@#$ing kill you by just !@#$ing looking at you. She's a stringy old crone, creeping up on being a !@#$ing century old. And yet, as frail as she looks, and as !@#$ed-up as she seems, she's all there and more upstairs. Her eyes are !@#$ing black, powerful pits, full of hate.

And her voice... Jesus !@#$ing Christ, that wet, overly-friendly voice. Even if you're not looking at the !@#$, it's enough to make your skin crawl off your body and go down the street for a !@#$ing drink.

But seeing her talk? Hearing those words come out of that mouth, with those eyes? 

Dear Jesus in Heaven, son. It's like watching the !@#$ing Exorcist for the first time all over again. And I know that !@#$ scared the !@#$ out of you.

The last time I saw that nasty !@#$ she was yanking my soul out of my !@#$ body, but at least she wasn't !@#$ing talking. Laughing, maybe, but dealing with evil, black laughter is kind of part of the !@#$ing job description.

But here I was, now, listening to her talk all !@#$ing afternoon, in that voice, about the planned genocide of the human race. And throughout it all she kept looking at me, and smiling, like there was some joke we were sharing.

I sure as !@#$ wasn't laughing, son.

* * *

Prosecution: So, Yasuda Aika-

Dark Star: I beg your pardon.

Prosecution: It is given.

(Laughter)

Judge: There will be order.

Prosecution: I beg your pardon, your Honor. I couldn't help it.

Judge: Noted. Please continue.

Prosecution: So you do not wish to be called the name of the girl you are... harnessing? Is that the right word for it?

Dark Star: That is correct. I am not her. She is within me, but I am not her, any more than you are the meal you had several years ago.

Prosecution: Does any of her still live within you?

Dark Star: Her memories, her ideas, her hopes and dreams. These are known to me, but they are not me, not any more than anyone else I have absorbed over the years. I keep those thoughts and memories locked up inside my head, like you keep your books on a shelf. I just happen to be wearing this one's dust jacket. 

Prosecution: I see. Thank you for explaining that.

Dark Star: You are so welcome. May I go, now?

Judge: If you do not wish to testify, you do not have to. But I will not let you back up here when you change your mind, seconds before sentencing.

Dark Star: I apologize. I was trying to make a joke. We should keep this lighthearted, should we not?

Prosecution: So, for the record, what should we call you?

Dark Star: You should call me by my rightful title, which I have earned. Absolute Black and Bright White.

Prosecution: It's quite a mouthful. Is Dark Star alright, at least for the purposes of this trial?

Dark Star: No it will not. You will either refer to me by my rightful title or you will refer to me by my true name.

Prosecution: I fear your true name is not pronounceable. But you have another name, do you not?

Dark Star: ... I have another title, yes.

Prosecution: And that title would be Leader.

Dark Star: Yes, I am the leader of the Imago. I once sat above The Motion, The Sight, The Fist, and The Dragon, and ruled your world while you sleepwalked. I am the one who spoke to you, first, on the day we assumed control. I am the one who arranged for the words to be said by others, and ordered your rewards or your punishment.

Prosecution: So you are... you are the one who developed the plan for what took place over the last year?

Dark Star: Yes, I am the one who condemned you all to die. Green and Yellow was merely our most popular spokesperson, and the one with special duties in the United States of America.

Prosecution: You condemned us to die. Personally.

Dark Star: I did.

Prosecution: And how... how was this death to be accomplished?

Dark Star: For some it was immediate, or nearly so. I am referring to the ones that were absorbed by our False Faces, or else the mentally-damaged ones that we Imago directly harnessed. Some were fortunate enough to be absorbed by one of us. Others were thrown into the Overmind, there to perform the tasks we needed the massive mutability of the human brain to accomplish. The editing of information at lightning speed over the internet, the altering of thought and idea, the endless surveillance. Things of that sort.

Prosecution: And for others?

Dark Star: The children who were sent to the harvesting boxes you thought were schools all died slowly, their memories and dreams leeched from them a little at a time. It was necessary for us to recharge on what they had to offer, and with the surplus we powered our special devices and engines.

Prosecution: What sort of devices?

Dark Star: Oh, come now. Did you not have a nice, new car, Mr. Prosecutor? Did you not wonder where the power really came from?

(Gasps, a stifled scream)

Judge: Order. There will be order in this court!

Dark Star: Every time you drove to the store, a child, somewhere, had its soul sliced open again. And when those children were of no further use, we turned them into servitors and had them process and tend to those children we had not yet gotten to.

Prosecution: My god. ... I...

Dark Star: Come now, good sir. You wanted to know the truth, so here it is. To us, you are raw materials. You are building blocks for an Empire to come. Your sense of self-worth is an ignorant indulgence that we do not care to indulge. You were made to serve those greater than you, just as those things that are lesser than you are yours to do with as you will. And if we chose to let some of you use the byproducts of our needs, well, I believe you sometimes feed your livestock some of what's left when you process them?

Prosecution: And was that what awaited us all? Processing?

Dark Star: Oh no. We only intended to harness the children, but by the end we would have gotten to them all. We planned to tell you that we needed the superior brains of growing children to help us come up with a plan to overcome the threat that was coming, but then we were going to take those children, harness their energies, and store them within our escape craft.

Prosecution: Like batteries? You were going to... all the children?

Dark Star: Yes. All the children. Everywhere. Babes out of the nurseries, even. No exceptions.

Prosecution: And what of the rest of us?

Dark Star: Well, we were just going to leave you, before you proved to be so troublesome at the end. After that, we decided to kill you all and make do with what we had.

Prosecution: But if we had not rebelled, you would have just left us in peace?

Dark Star: Of course! We would have had bodies and energy and a ship, and no need for you. We probably would have destroyed our installations from orbit, and caused Deep-Ten to explode just to be sure you didn't attack us from behind, if you regained your senses too soon. And, yes, we would have annihilated that cursed prison, too, which may have caused the Pacific to go horrendously toxic. But it wouldn't have mattered much.

Prosecution: Well, it would have mattered to us.

Dark Star: Perhaps. But we do not concern ourselves with those we no longer need. It would have been cleaner to kill you all, just to be sure you did not rise up to take revenge. But considering what you now face, you could sit and scream yourselves hoarse for all we cared. For soon you must die, as is the rightful fate of a weak race such as yourselves in the face of what's coming.

Prosecution: What do you mean? What is coming?

Dark Star: The thing we have hastened to escape, human. The massive threat that is even now coming closer to this world, as it has so many before. The thing that was here, once before, and is now on its way back. You might know it as Ragnarok, or Gotterdamerung, or the Decreator. But it is the (Unintelligible Concept) and it is on its way.

Prosecution: And how do you know this?

Dark Star: Other than simply feeling it in our bones, as you might say? We were given reliable intelligence.

Prosecution: Who by?

Dark Star: SPYGOD, of course.

* * *

You ever have one of those moments when  literally every eye in the room swivels and looks right the !@#$ at you, and there's no !@#$ing escape? And, worse of all, you have no !@#$ idea what they were !@#$ing talking about?

Yeah, that was my moment.

Back in a moment, son. Need to drain the alien sex machine. And then some more beer, I think.

A lot more.

(SPYGOD is listening to Opium (Dead Can Dance) and having a Castelain Grand Cru, or ten)

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)

12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - pt 2.

One of the things about being !@#$ing immortal is that you get to see history !@#$ing repeat, over and over again.

And yeah, I'm sure you could have !@#$ing guessed that, son. That whole thing about farce and tragedy? Pretty !@#$ing true. And so is the bit about being doomed to repeat it if you don't know it, though a whole lot of people know it and keep !@#$ing repeating it, anyway. Because they're !@#$ dumb.

But it isn't just the big !@#$ things that keep skipping like a broken record. People do it, too. You meet new people and then you realize you knew their parents, or their parents' parents. And then you see that the fruit didn't fall too !@#$ing far from the !@#$ tree.

!@#$, sometimes it becomes the tree, if you get my drift. 

And that's why, if I'm going to tell you about the Trial of the Imago, and what !@#$ing happened in those two weeks in Paris, I have to !@#$ing tell you about the Terre Unifee. And that means I have to !@#$ing tell you about Direction Noir, and that means I have to go all the way back to the !@#$ War and !@#$ing talk about the Resistance.

(Not too !@#$ing lengthy a lesson, though. I've only got enough of this nice !@#$ French beer to last a couple thoughts, and then they're gone, again.)

Okay, so, after being a !@#$er, a !@#$, and a general !@#$ing prick, and making it !@#$ clear he wasn't going to stop marching across Europe, Hitler goes !@#$ing charging over the Maginot Line, drives all the way into Paris, and calls France a part of the Third Reich. Cue a whole lot of heartbreaking photos of that !@#$ marching up and down their monuments, looking like he's a kid in a !@#$ candy store.

Now, I'm sure you've seen the other photos from that time? The ones of grown men in berets crying in the streets, wondering if they can get the !@#$ out of town before they get shot for eating horses? Well, not all of those crying men and women were content to flee and hide the pack animal sausage. A lot of them went and either formed or joined resistance groups, some more effective than others, and gave that mustachioed little !@#$ and his Vichy government a lot of hassles.

So you flash forward a few years, and after a whole !@#$ of a lot of sweat, blood, secrets, and death, France is free, again, and we have the !@#$ing Resistance to thank for a lot of the ground work in making it that way. Of course, they never let anyone !@#$ing forget that, as well they should, but some of the people who are justly proud of having risked their !@#$ lives are maybe just a little too proud of it.

Which brings us to a rather !@#$ insufferable character by the name of Celestin Emmanuel Halevy, who always reminded me of what happens when a monkey takes a shine to a toad. He was involved with the Armée de Libération du Peuple Supérieure, which was a splinter group from the Organisation civile et militaire, who were !@#$ing with the occupiers up north, where the concentration of Nazi scum was higher. It meant they had a !@#$ of a lot more to do, and a !@#$ of a lot more danger in doing it, and had the bodycount to prove it.

Well, ALPS (and !@#$ did they hate that acronym) had a very singular goal. They had been there when Hitler's ubermenschen  had come marching and flying through Paris, and knew what it felt like to see human gods taking over their country. So they were going around France trying to find their own supermen, or stealing Germany's means of making more. And they got some, admittedly, but not a !@#$ of a lot, and not enough to make a real !@#$ing difference.

Of course, they got wind that we had our own ways of making supermen, and they wanted in. And, of course, we said "!@#$ no, Frenchman!" Mostly because it was really !@#$ unstable, and more likely to kill you than make you !@#$ing fly. But also because, let's face it, this is one of the big pieces of wartime dynamite, and there's no way we were just going to hand it the !@#$ over to some guy who looks like a hairy amphibian in a bad suit with a worse mustache, now are we?

So the war's over, and Monsieur Halevy is alive, politically active, well-regarded for his work in the Resistance, and !@#$ing !@#$ed off at America for having condemned him to traipsing all over the French countryside, chasing down rumors of strong farmboys and flying village girls, instead of just handing over the !@#$ formula.

So when the Provisional Government starts handing out plum jobs to the people who helped make their freedom possible, guess who they put in charge of their strategic talents?

Got it in one, son. The toad-monkey. Halevy's the one who founded, shaped, and ran Direction Noir for its critical first few decades. And every time I had to work with those !@#$ers he went out of his way to make me know just how little regard he had for us.

Anyway, someone actually !@#$ed him for something other than money, at some point, and Celestin Emmanuel Halevy begat Giscard Hercule Halevy, who became a government functionary and reveled in anonymity. He, in turn, cranked out a very ugly young lady named Celestine Marie Halevy, who married some drunk !@#$ named Charles Gerard Geraud, who somehow got himself appointed head of Direction Noir in his later years, and ran it with an iron fist until earlier this year, when the Imago took the !@#$ over.

Where's Charles? No one wants to say. However, his brother, Henri, was also involved in major, behind the scenes intelligence wrangling. And he is now the interim president of the Terre Unifee.

Yes, son, you heard that !@#$ing right. The brother of the husband of the daughter of the son of the man who !@#$ing hated us for not sharing our super-soldier serum is now the man who is using France's massive stockpile of strategic talents to rebuild the world. And he was also the man who got to pick out who would oversee the Imago's war crimes tribunal.

Now, are you the slightest bit !@#$ing surprised that the judge's last name is Geraud? No? Then you're !@#$ing learning.

But you can imagine my surprise when I walk into that courtroom, in Paris, ten million other !@#$ing things on my mind, and see the spitting image of the fat little toad-monkey I used to laugh about, after the !@#$ War, sitting up in the presiding judge box.

And he's just !@#$ing looking at me, like he knows he's going to have so much fun finding me contempt for not tying my !@#$ing shoes.

Now, I have to be !@#$ honest, son. Jean-Jacques Excephir Geraud ran a !@#$ good courtroom. Maybe a little too good, given the circumstances. He didn't let the counsel for the defense get away with too !@#$ing much, and he made the prosecution do everything right and proper by the book.

The Imago could not say that they didn't get a fair !@#$ing trial. I know they weren't happy at the outcome, but at least they got to experience something they had never had, before, and were !@#$ing incapable of giving others.

Justice, for want of a better word.

But when it came my turn on the stand? Fat little toad-monkey let the Prosecution have a little too much lee-way, once I got up on the stand. Let them walk me all over the !@#$ park, so that something really bad came out of my mouth.

And between that, and a certain something happened at the White House, on Thanksgiving, that's pretty much why I'm stuck in this fine apartment, today.

And as for the other part? Well, about a week ago I found out something really !@#$ interesting, which, if it was common knowledge, might have invalidated a whole lot about what went on in that !@#$ing courtroom. But if we did that, a few other things might get invalidated, too. So here I am, keeping my mouth shut, again.

For a while, anyway. 
...

More on that later. I think I need to send out a minion for some more of this fine ale.

(SPYGOD is listening to Anabasis (Dead Can Dance) and having some more Gavroche)

12/21/12 - The Trial of the Imago - pt 1.

You know, son, it's funny. I've lived through so much !@#$ history that I often forget that I should be !@#$ing present when it actually !@#$ing happens.

I mean, Nuremberg. The main trial of all the major Nazi bastards? Took just under a !@#$ing year, and defined so much !@#$ that happened after. All those awful people, all those terrible revelations, all those weird moments of dark humor...

And where the !@#$ was I? Well, that's still !@#$ing classified, son. And believe me when I say you really do not want to !@#$ing know anything about that one.

(!@#$, I don't want to know about it.)

But I was not any!@#$ingwhere near Nuremberg, and since I'd single-handedly deprived the tribunal of their biggest potential defendant I don't think they'd have !@#$ing wanted me there, either.

That's not to say it was a star-free affair, though. !@#$ no. Mr. USA was there, keeping an eye on things along with a few other Strategic Talents. They were mostly making sure ABWEHR didn't try to !@#$ all over the proceedings with their super-Nazi bull!@#$, but they were also keeping an eye on the !@#$ super-commies, because !@#$ knows what they might have gotten up to if we hadn't had certain precautions in place.

(Though, given what I was doing at the time, I had some pretty !@#$ good ideas. But that's classified, son.)

We weren't talking, then, Mr. USA and I. I had no idea that I'd !@#$ing ruined our friendship (or even why), but I could tell he was angry about something. How angry I wouldn't know until Korea, when he and I actually smashed half a !@#$ing town down, arguing, and he still wouldn't !@#$ing tell me what I'd done wrong.

But while was wasn't talking to me, then, he was still talking. And I remember overhearing him telling someone that the whole year just seemed to go by in slow motion, like when your life is so !@#$ty that you only live for a dream.

Well, for him, the trial was the dream, if you can !@#$ing believe that. He was there in his dress uniform, day after !@#$ing day, watching this great !@#$ing piece of history get made. This massive case against these men, like a sword being smashed into shape. It was pounded by hammers and shoved back into the fire, over and over, until the day would come that it was heavy enough to wield and sharp enough to cut.

And after watching that sword get made, hour after hour, he'd go back to his barracks and lay awake all !@#$ing night, haunted and unable to sleep.

And yes, he can sleep. He doesn't like that I know that, but I do. SPYGOD knows all.

(Sometimes.)

...

So that brings us to the !@#$ing Imago trial. As you probably know, it happened. It's over. 

And we lost.

Oh, they didn't !@#$ing walk, son. No !@#$ing way did they squeak out of this one. They were found guilty ten million ways to Sunday and !@#$ing back again.

But did they pay for it?

...

I don't know, son. I really just don't.

It !@#$ing started on the 12th of November, and it ended on the 26th. Two whole weeks (including !@#$ing weekends) to officially !@#$ing catalog the total known offenses, hear from key witnesses and carefully selected survivors, and make the case that these metal-plated !@#$-weasels deserved to have a book the size of a !@#$ing planet hurled at their skulls.

And yes, I was there. I was a witness, both for the trial and of the trial. I got up on that stand when it was my turn and I !@#$ing said my piece, which was quite !@#$ing lengthy, and...

And.

There's some !@#$ here, son. Bad !@#$. And it's a sad thing that it's four !@#$ days till !@#$ing Christmas and all I can !@#$ing think about it that moment when it all went !@#$ing wrong, both for me and for us.

And the bad thing I had to do while the !@#$ trial was going on.

But I guess Christmas is a good time for ghosts?

So let's talk about bad spirits, son. Let's talk about the trial of the !@#$ing Millennium.

And let's talk about who really got found guilty, at the end of it.

(SPYGOD is listening to All in Good Time (Dead Can Dance) and having a Gavroche)