The Trials

((Going to post these until Sorah gets registered))

If there ever was a time when she missed the simplistic forward movement of her previous existence, the straight forward pursuit of something grand, greater, and worth fighting for, it was now. The events that had transpired in her life were both agonizingly slow and a whirlwind of activity - from the dissolution of the Dominion to her marriage to Xanatos. No longer known as Karnal Sin, but simply as Kathryn, her existence had taken a turn she was neither expecting nor really wanting.

"So you're a trophy wife."

Kathryn's hand gripped the cool, wet glass of her cocktail, her eyes mimicking and reflecting the green concoction swirling around the clear alcohol. She winced at the words coming out of his mouth.

A ball formed in the pit of her stomach and she looked up from her drink into the fiercely red, and almost eternally glaring eyes of her old friend, "I...I don't want to have this conversation."

The man, President SK, was barely visibly registering as reacting at all to what was being discussed and in one fluid motion he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a blank, albeit black, business card.

"Good," the word was simple and smooth, snaking out of his mouth temptingly, "Well...you know where to find me." And with that he was gone, disappearing out of the Tiki Club in the Pocket D, leaving Kathryn basking in the realization that...

He was right.


Kathryn shook her head, her soft golden locks floating around her - as if that simple action could clear her of any thoughts.

Half muttering self-deprecating statements she decisively marched over to the bar. Lifting a long and slender finger, she pointed to a bottle of rum, her eyes fixated on it like a wolf stalking prey, "I want to buy the bottle - how much?"

The bartender, his cleanly shaven head gleaning in the kitschy tiki’s firelight, looked up suddenly.
"Eighty, but why don't you just go to the corner store, it's probably chea-" she threw a wad of cash onto the bar, turned around, and daintily sat on the overly comfortable stool. Blankly staring ahead, the same kitschy firelight playfully dancing in her eyes, she adeptly opened the Kracken and unceremoniously took a drink.

Kathryn never drank anymore, her resistance had waned to nearly nothing and the equivalency of three shots she had just downed created a pleasant and warm fire in her stomach, replacing the ball previously housed there, a whimsy washing over her mental faculties.

A patron of the bar looked at her worried, "Are you alright?"

Kathryn looked at the blonde woman, clearly a 'hero', took another generous amount of alcohol, wincing at the taste before overcompensating on the enthusiasm with a response, "I'm perfectly fine! Dandy, even. DANDY!"


Half a bottle later, Kathryn sat alone in the bar, staring off into the distance beyond the walls of the club she was in, the buzz of activity around her a gentle backdrop to the battle being waged in her mind.
A glint caught the corner of her eye, and rather unstably rose from her stool, mindlessly speaking to no one, “If you’ll excuse me…” as she precariously walked away towards what grabbed her attention. It was less a knowledge of what it was, as a familiarity. So used to reaching out psychically was Kathryn, that any natural instinct or reaction she treated as fact, unaccustomed to functioning without the implant.
Her eyes attempted to focus on the figure in front of her.

“I…I know you.” She racked her brain through the liquor and years it had been, the removal of her implant had forced her to work at remembering names, associations, even locations.

The woman standing before backed away, a wide-eyed look on her face, completely silent.

“You’re that girl with the talking sword…Luficia…”

Luficia visibly swallowed. She was a pleasant looking woman – a small face with long brunette hair cascading around her milky neck.

“And you’re always…around…but never really around…”

Luficia looked genuinely, and justifiably, confused.

The ex-Consort composed herself, sobering up ever so slightly as she practically glided across the mere few feet between her and Luficia.

“Yes…that’s me,” Luficia meekly responded – bothered by Kathryn’s approach, bothered more still as the red clad woman slowly lifted her right hand, a dagger like finger raised in her direction.

“You’re always around…Xanatos,” the name rolled off her tongue in a half moan, reflecting her comfort in using it and familiarity with the man.

“I…we work together, you know, just doing work stuff with the Challengers.”

The Vixen’s eyes narrowed, the large pools of coral blue turning into mere slits as she processed the woman in front of her.

“And I’m over at the apartment, I mean, your’s and Xanatos’s apartment all the time – you remember, how are kids play all the time?”

Kathryn remained silent, her face expressionless.

**Of course she doesn’t remember you coming around the apartment, you avoid her at all costs**

The brunette was visibly uncomfortable at Seiken’s statement, her left hand reaching up to her right shoulder, unconsciously shielding herself.

Kathryn didn’t need to be telepathic to read her and in her buzzed state she recaptured a bit of her confidence from years before, “Luficia, why do I get the feeling that you are keeping something from me…” her words melted as she spoke them, a throw back to her persuasive days with the Dominion.
Luficia was anything but persuaded, taking a few steps back in sync with Kathryn’s few steps closer.

“I don’t know…what you are talking about…”

A hiss escaped Kathryn’s lips, “The walls have eyes and ears, my pet, and they are talking to me” – oh how she missed that feeling of awareness.

“Whatever you are thinking, there is nothing going on…” Luficia finished lamely.

Her defensiveness, fueled by Kathryn’s paranoia was all the ‘reformed’ villainess needed as she quickly reached out and grabbed the hero by the neck, lifting her off the ground with ease, her other hand idly crackling with energy, “Do you think me a fool?” she growled out through a menacing smile.

The hero reached for her neck, desperately trying to release herself from the woman’s hold, but Kathryn’s grip was too strong and she shut her eyes as the woman’s nails started to dig into the sinews of her muscles. She forced out a response, “Look…it…was nothing…we were about to die…and so…”

As her words traversed the close space between them, the energy in Kathryn’s other hand crackled furiously, the red light dancing off their skin, licks of energy touching them and warping the air around them as her hand closed tighter around Luficia’s neck.

And tighter still.

Such an interesting shade of blue…

Blue.

And with that thought, she released her, “Forget I asked,” turning on her heel and walking away, the energy in her hand reabsorbing into her body as she made her way towards the exit.
She wasn’t headed towards Paragon.

(by Slaphappy)

“Insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results.” – Alcoholics Anonymous

“Do I even have to say it? This is Paragon. We all know how it works.” Judas Black circles the hostage he is pointing his gun at. “I want your money and shiny objects. I have an organization to support now. Cell phones, wallets, some of your nicer shoes and pants – those sunglasses are nice.”

Everyone, however, holds still, not following Slaphappy’s orders. The GAP stands quietly, unlike the hustle and bustle of happy shopping at this mall, its patrons confused and blankly staring at the situation in front of them.

“Look, I know this isn’t an ideal place for a robbery, but the usual rules apply,” Judas states, as he clears his throat. He is speaking sternly, instead of enthusiastically, and at half of his normal volume.

“They don’t let me near banks anymore, and ERA needs money.” He pauses for a moment to furiously scratch at the stubble on his upper neck with his free hand.

“Do you know how expensive villain groups are? Why are you just staring at me? I mean, silly question.” Judas flings his long, greasy hair back as he removes his top hat only to place it right back on tightly.

“No, but seriously, I’m going to kill this hostage.”

He thrusts his gun into the hostage’s face, eliciting absolutely no response from his audience – instead of fear, shock, and the rainfall of money and valuables Judas is used to, they maintain that hauntingly blank and confused stare.

One of his eyes squint while the other widens with a raised eyebrow, as a pained smile spreads across his face. “So, you don’t think I’ll do it? You don’t think I’d shoot this sucker in the face? He means nothing to me! Nothing!” Slaphappy points at the other people in the store, with their empty and bewildered expressions.

“All of you! Ants! Sheep! Apes running a flawed society! I’ll do it! For realies!” He smacks the hostage across the face with the butt of his gun, and a ‘clack’ echoes through the store as they fall against the floor. Judas points the gun at the back of his hostage’s head, “Little squeeze on this tiny trigger makes a big bang!”

One of the cashiers in the back of the store looks to her right at one of the shoppers for answers, and the shopper shrugs as they turn back to look at Slaphappy. The police had been called a while ago, but Judas did not seem to notice – he didn’t seem to be noticing anything.

“Well, usually…I don’t have to start shooting people until after I get the money. I guess you’re all stressed out. It has been a long day. I know how it goes.” Slaphappy relaxes his posture and scratches the back of his head with his gun. “I mean, one day, you’re really sticking it to the man – REALLY sticking it to the man. No ****.”

He starts to pace around the store, looking at the ground, gun still in hand, as he slowly tries to recollect the past seven years of his long, murderous career, his voice reaching the crescendo feverishly, “And then before you know it, you’re killing your therapist and taking over a mental asylum because you want to impress some clown who broke you out of prison. Soon after that, some raging telepathic serial killer and alien from another dimension invite you to join their club, and you end up murdering some sidekicks and becoming famous. You do a lot of crazy **** like getting drunk and nuking a sheep farm. Then that dies down, so you steal a blimp from some pirates and fly around the city, drinking and killing people for some reason, I guess out of boredom. But then you crash your blimp into a Catholic school because you’re on horse tranquilizers and Jack Daniels, and you decide, hey, maybe flying a blimp around a city filled with skyscrapers isn’t such a good idea. So some black guy you hate invites you to join some League of Thieves to steal money, and that’s fun for a while. Then a second black guy you hate, because he keeps trying to kill you, invites you to join some League of Doom to take over the world, and you’re like, why not, what else is going on? So you do it, and you’re killing people for some reason and robbing malls while being high on meth, and you’re like, where did it all go wrong? What happened to sticking it to men?”

A mall patron opens their mouth to say something, decides against it, and closes it again.

“But! Maybe I can finish this up and fix things!” Judas’s face brightens as he looks up. “I can tell ERA where to shove it! I’m not a puppet! I am my own man! A loner! I don’t need these… weirdos and freaks telling me how to do what I do. I don’t need to do it for anyone! Hey! Yeah! So, you know what, give me your money. I’ll keep it for myself! I’ll fix up my old Go-Kart! I’ll start killing politicians and mailmen, just like the good old days!” He spins around and looks at all the people gawking at him, with glee in his voice. “What do you say gang?! Power to the people!”

Everyone stares with a blank expression, unmoving.

“So… not even for Pappy Slappy. Not even for Daddy Judas. This is mutiny. I see. After everything your Slaphappy has done for you.” His whole body slumps as cheer leaves his voice once more.

“I give you the answers, I take out the bad guys – I even helped stop a god damn alien invasion! But nope! You’re ungrateful little children. Fine! If murder is the only way to get you people to listen, so be it!” Slaphappy walks back to his original hostage, still on the ground.

He points his gun at the back of the captive’s head. “I don’t know why you people think I’m bluffing! I’ve done this dozens of time! I’ve been on the Most Wanted list since day number one! Remember all those cop cars and ambulances blowing up?! That was me! I’m a bad ***! But all right, if you people really don’t want to throw me your cash and nice khakis!” Slaphappy looks up at the gawking crowd one last time, looking for any kind of reaction, before looking back down at the head he’s aiming at.

“I’m sorry dude. They’re kind of proving my point on the whole…society failing, people not caring about each other thing. If it makes you feel any better, you’re my most fashionable of victims.”

Slaphappy fires his first shot, and it hits the floor to the right of the hostage’s head. Everyone covers their ears while some yell in agony at the sudden burst of noise and light. “Oops. Wow. That’s embarrassing. Dude, you didn’t even flinch. Kudos to you!”

He fires a second shot, and it hits a spot above the hostage’s head. “Really?! Wow. Okay. Look, I’m trying to hurry this up. We all got places to be.”

Judas fires a third shot, and it hits to the left of the hostage’s head. “This has been the worst day. **** it! I don’t need ammo!”

His teeth grind as his shoulders straighten out and his face strains. Slaphappy starts screaming and emptying his clip at the head below his feet. Finally, one bullet hits and plastic comes shattering back at his face.

“Victory! HA! And you people think I’ve lost it! You thought I didn’t have it in me! Ahh, look at your shocked and alarmed faces. I guess you all should have listened, eh? No one would have gotten hurt! Well, that’s not entirely true.”

His foot, resting in a red sneaker, is placed onto the back of the headless target. “Your friendly neighborhood terrorist isn’t so friendly, eh? Maybe we should take him more seriously! Who knows who here would be next! If I had more ammo, I could take you all out! Hell, maybe I’d even take out that cutie over there, wearing this season’s newest blouse.”

“Judas.” An older gentlemen wearing military garb slowly approaches Slaphappy with no weapons drawn. “Please stop shooting the mannequins.”

“You’re not my dad! And, wait, what?” Judas looks at his feet. “Is that why he’s made of plastic?”

“Yes. Now come with me. We’re here to help.” Other military personnel come up around Slaphappy, as the people in the store are taken out of the area safely.

“Am I under arrest? Because I hate that ****. I don’t know why you people think I want to be in there.” He starts pointing his empty gun around, wildly.

“No, you’re not at the moment. We’re going to clean up your act.” The captain nods, as one of the men takes Slaphappy from behind with handcuffs.

“What in Sam hill?! This is a lot like an arrest! I’ve had these dozens of times! Who the hell are you people?! Why are the mannequins alive?! Am I in a GAP?!” Judas starts to struggle, thrashing as if he is a rabid animal, about to be put down.

“We’re the G.O. Division. You’re high. And yes, this is a GAP. But we agree with what you said earlier. You need to get back on track. And we’re here to help. My name is Elsinger. You’re among friends, as long as you do what we say.”

“Fine. I’m coming. Since I’m in handcuffs and you’re dragging me. This better be good. I’m not wearing any pants.”

The G.O. Division quietly usher Slaphappy out of the mall, while everyone looks on. They start playing on their phones, texting and taking pictures.

They did not know it at the time, but it would be the longest Paragon did not see Judas Black since he started his career.

(by Red Switchblade)

In a darkly lit room, Brianna Volpe stood and watched as the Taproot Network dripped blood on parchment, tracking its targets. Kevin DeSantis sat in the corner of the room, huddled in a pile of bloody organic matter, reconstituting after his fight with Sovereign.

"Slaphappy... where the hell are they taking you?" she wondered aloud.

First Victim simply grinned weakly and uttered. "This should be good..." he laughed softly and slipped back into unconsciousness.

(written by Karnal Sin)

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 2

“Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.” – Carl Jung

It had been a long time since Kathryn had left Paragon City – hell, it had been a long time since Kathryn had been out of the apartment alone and unescorted – and like a recovering alcoholic sneaking in a cocktail, the rush of freedom was immediately intoxicating to her.

A stray strand of golden hair blew in front of her face as she peered out into the misty, familiar cityscape of the Isles. The constant sunshine of Paragon irked her as if the weather itself was openly mocking her.

Her hand rested in her pocket, idly playing with the sharp edges of the business card President SK had given her days before – still unsure as to why he gave it to her in the first place, his words still ringing in her ears:

“Trophy wife.”

“Kept.”

“Waste of potential.”

Unable to make sense of the feelings racing through her, she turned around and headed back to the Pocket D, the only real way she was able to travel between the Isles and Paragon City. The woman at the door, nodded to her, “Going home?”

Kathryn didn’t respond and simply walked into the open door, thankful that the bonds of the Isles still meant something to some people and she need not fear of her being reported to anyone in Paragon of her whereabouts on these days.

She had constructed scenarios in her head to tell Xanatos where she was going everyday – the supermarket, the drycleaners, to the Academy – but she hadn’t had to use a single lie since he was never home when she left and he never bothered to ask her when and if he returned.

As she traveled through the dimensional pocket and up the elevators she crossed the dance floor, the spot where she had attacked Luficia vividly replaying the scene in her head – her mind playing her husband’s benign dialogue like a bad voice-over.

“I’m home,” – Where have you been, darling?

“I was at the Academy and then had a meeting with the Challengers.” – A meeting with the Challengers? Is everything alright?

“Yes, don’t fret.”

She had originally thought her paranoia was stemming from her acute case of cabin fever – but the other night’s confession from the other team member had proven her delusions a reality. And words, spoken from her beloved many years ago, as he laid strapped down to the interrogation table at the Dominion Stronghold emerged from the crevices of her mind with a vengeance:

“You don’t trust men, do you?”


It had been nearly two weeks since Kathryn had started to sneak out of the city – each trip bolder and farther into the cold clutches of the Isles. She didn’t like the Isles – they were grungy, gloomly, ill-kempt and smelled of the sea and general human filth – but it was the one place where she didn’t have to wear a mask. She could just be.

She had been keeping a smile on her face in front of her family despite her general misery and confusion. Her love-making to her husband an empty shell of the passion he used to ignite in her if he ever touched her at all. She grew tired of making excuses for him – he’s busy, he’s stressed, he wants to spend more time with Gwen, he’s eternal and so his sense of time is skewed…

Her feet dangled off the ledge of one of the taller facades in Cap Au Diable, her mind still not where it was at six years ago, began to twist in on itself a tsunami of doubts, questions, and chaotic trains of thought waging war inside of her.

She lifted herself off the rooftop she had been resting on, warping the energy beneath her body, manipulating it to propel herself towards a tall and looming building. Rushing quickly up the face of the brick and mortar side, she stopped in front of a windowless sill on the 30th floor. The sill, if you could call it that, was barely distinguishable, but she knew it was there, and quietly felt hopeful this would work. Whispering into the air, she braced herself, “domina scelesta.” No sooner had she finished the phrase was she immediately transported inside the building.


A smile crept up Kathryn’s lips as she looked around her old apartment – it was still there – after six long years. Reaching out a hand, she ran her fingers across the walls, her heels clicking loudly on the neglected hardwood floors with each slow step as she moved out of the foyer towards her bedroom, the transporting technology Neutron One had installed in her apartment winding down and no longer shining.

“Lux.”

Her eyes adjusted to the warm yet dim lighting quickly as her eyes raked in the spacious bedroom, full kitchen, ornate bathroom equipped with rainfall showers and enough counter space to accommodate all of the Vixens of the Dominion for nights out.

Her smile faded as she caught sight of her closet – unnecessarily large and housing a wardrobe that could dress an entire legion of women.

There, hanging casually from a dropped line in the middle of the closet’s open floor plan, designed for easy access, was her old uniform.

She stood staring at it, unblinking, a strange and indefinable feeling creeping through her veins.

She had become so used to wearing civilian clothing – so used to donning the jubilant blue and yellow costume as her husband’s counterpart, she forgot how much she loved the color red. The shimmering fabric beckoned her – she knew all too well the feeling of the slick material so cool against her skin, how it hugged her lithe body and invigorated her every move.

Without thinking, she slowly started to remove her clothes – an action she had grown accustomed to with her powers weakened since the procedure to save her those years ago – she could no longer manipulate materials onto her body and around her like she used to. Reaching a hand to her belt, she deftly unhooked it, a hunger lust motivating her movements as she continued to stare, trance like, at her uniform. Her black pants slid to the floor, the flimsy material creating a pool of fabric around her feet. Both of her hands reached to the back of her top, unzipping the blouse as she glided her arms out of the sleeves.

Standing naked, her perfectly sculpted body a mere foot away from what she wanted, she felt the blood pumping through her veins, could hear her heartbeat in her ears, her face flushed. The intensity of the feeling was foreign to her without Xanatos around and she hadn’t felt that in a long time.

She couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why she was so nervous, or why she was so desperate to get the suit on her. Her full bare breasts moving with each breath was the only movement in the windowless apartment as a comfortable stillness settled in.

Breaking the calm, she reached for the outfit, her hand paused.

What are you doing? She asked herself.

Her eyes darted across the glimmering fabric, not caring to answer her own thought.

Just for old times’ sake.

She forced her hand to grab it, swinging it off the hanger it had been resting for so many years and slid her naked form into its embrace. She melted into it, unconsciously letting herself go, her powers wandering and tickling the air with balls of energy.

She ran her hands along her body, tracing the lines of the design lovingly when her movements caught her eye as they reflected in the full length mirrors. She was missing the gloves.

Looking around she spotted them resting on a footstool a few steps away and quickly eased her right hand into its corresponding one of the pair, tightening the buckles for good measure. As she started on her left, she was stopped by the cumbersome engagement and wedding band on her hand – the glove wouldn’t go on – she even tried to turn the diamond to face her palm, but the suit and its accessories were designed to fit her as she had been – not as she is now.

Looking back into the mirror, she stared at her hand in her reflection – the yellow glow of the lamps glinting off the affectations hindering her.

Not as she is now.

Speaking to the emptiness of the apartment in a whisper, she repeated the words that had plagued her for weeks, “Trophy wife.”

(written by Karnal Sin)


“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” – Carl Jung


Kathryn sat in the apartment she shared with her husband, finding it more and more difficult to refer to it as her or their apartment with all that had transpired within the passing weeks. Her hand rested off to the side, dangling over the edge of the armrest, her index and middle finger rubbing against each other slowly as she thought. She was clad in tight boy shorts and a simple tank top as she had just finished her work out, her skin glistening a little with perspiration. She had been trying to burn off some energy, but she knew what the problem was – she hadn’t ventured into the Isles in days and she was restless.

She couldn’t understand herself and it was terrifying her. These urges to simply do things on impulse were getting stronger and stronger and it had taken all of her willpower to keep herself in any semblance of ease. She started shaking her leg as she grew impatient with absolutely nothing.

“I’m home, Kathryn!” She jerked a little, all of her movements stopped, as if she was caught doing something wrong.

Xanatos walked through the halls comfortably, removing his mask as was his habit upon entering his home.

She offered him a smile, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“How was your day, darling?” she spoke as she rose from her seat, a strange sense of habit taking over her actions – they had repeated this scene so many times over the last six years.

“You know how it goes – although the new recruits at the Academy seem like a good crop this semester,” he leaned down and kissed her gently, still not really looking at her.

If only he’d look at her.

Kathryn bit her lower lip, the silence heavy in the air, as Xanatos continued walking through the house making his way to the bedroom.

“Xan…how would you feel about moving?”

“Where, to the city?”

She shook her head, leaning against the wall of the room as he stood in the closet, peeling off his uniform, “No like…out of Paragon,” she braced for his response.

He spoke without affect, “We can’t move out of Paragon.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s make this easier, why don’t you tell me where you want to move to and why.”

She paused again, almost shamefully looking down as she muttered her words, “Well, we could move to the Isles – make a base of operations there and pseudo un-retire…”

He walked passed her as she spoke, going into the bathroom and splashing water on his face, although listening to her words and responding, “Seems dangerous – and the Isles are filled with vill-“ he corrected himself, aware that Kathryn hated that word, “with people who would want to see me dead.”

She was exasperated and became snappy, “If I could do it for the last six years, you could at least give it a try.”

He smiled at her, although it didn’t disarm her, but fueled her anger, “Kathryn, the heroes here don’t want you dead.”

Her eyes widened as the frustration built in her in a steady flow, “They may not want me dead but they don’t want me here. For **** sake, Xan, even the Challengers barely tolerate my being here. Do you know what it’s like having to constantly watch your back?” As she spoke she marched towards the closet, her husband nonchalantly resting himself against the bathroom door frame, “To have to wear this STUPID mask every time I go outside?” She snatched up her Xanatess garb, “I’m surprised I haven’t developed a rash from wearing this thing so often!”

He narrowed his eye, displeased with her attitude towards her ‘new identity’, “I told you – you have to wait for the warrants for your arrest to expire and then there will be no more sneaking around.”

She scoffed, her voice lowering its pitch, “Sneaking around…”

He didn’t respond.

“Sneaking…around…” As she spoke the words she immediately thought of Luficia and her encounter in the Pocket D – and the confession.

Her jaw clenched, “Is that what you think this is? Just a case of ‘cabin fever’ gone awry?”

Xanatos remained silent, looking at his wife worriedly now – he had noticed she had been acting erratically lately, nothing extreme, but out of her norm and wondered if the procedural side effects from the removal of her implant had anything to do with it – he voiced his concerns.

“You know it may be time for a check up.”

“This has NOTHING to do with that” she quickly fired back, “and don’t you dare marginalize this.”

He walked up to her, lifting his hand and cradling her cheek, “Do you want to go do something? What if I took you out to dinner?” He was obviously deflecting and just trying to get her to shut up.

She slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me.”

She had never refused his advances – ever. “If we go out to dinner am I going to have to wear this?” She still held Xanatess’s uniform in her clutches.

He sighed, not knowing how to comfort his wife and not even entirely sure if this was something worth his attention or just a mood swing.

“I’m going to go,” she started to undress out of her shorts and top to put on the blue and yellow outfit.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“To MY apartment.”

He looked at her confused for a split second before uttering, “In the Isles?”

“Yes, Xanatos, in the Isles – the one place where I can dress and behave like a normal human being?” her voice dripped with condescending attitude, “You know what that’s like, don’t you? I’d think that after how many years on this planet that you’d understand the human need for that by now.”

A large blue hand gripped her wrist tightly, “You can’t go to the Isles.”

She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, “That’s funny since I’ve been going there for weeks now.” She regretted the words as they slipped past her lips. Sh*t.

The energy from his glowing white eyes sped up and intensified, “WHAT?”

She shook her head, trying to dismiss him, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Kathryn, you know that I have to keep a close eye on you – all Paragon needs is one little excuse and they can take you away from me.”

She threw her head back laughing, not in amusement but in vindictive shock, “Take me away from you? Yeah well, that’d be a shame wouldn’t it – there goes your trophy wife – you’re little ‘reformed’ villainess,” she hissed the last word out intentionally, letting it sink into the space between them.

Xanatos didn’t like where this conversation was heading and he tried to stop its progression, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She jerked from his grasp in his moment of weakness, bolting out the door as she slipped the headwinged mask into place over her features, the door slamming behind her from the force of the warped energy she used to break away.

He was glad Gwen wasn’t home.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, making the yellow mask stick to her face. They were not tears of sadness, rather of pure and unadulterated frustration with maybe just a hint of betrayal.

How dare he question her motives. How dare he make this seem like this is nothing. This ‘man’ who stakes the moral high ground and then runs off and kisses some dawdling little brunette child is suppose to be the pinnacle of virtue and ethics?

She shot past the doors of the building, flying higher and higher, stopping only when she finally started having difficulty breathing.

She floated there silently for a moment before completely breaking down – she buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

As if of its own volition, the card President SK had given her poked her uncomfortably. She nudged at it through her costume as she cried only to have it fall out of its place and start to flutter into the mist below her.

It took her a moment to realize it had fallen, peering through the haze to see the black piece of paper fading from her line of sight. She turned downwards and flew after it, the wind picking it up slightly and leading her on a curvy chase below.

Reaching out a hand she pushed herself forward, the card almost in her grasp when she was stopped. Her eyes widened as she witnessed the card disappear and panic struck – she wasn’t even sure why she held onto the card but she felt like it was something she should keep. So occupied with her despair over losing it, she hadn’t even spared a moment to figure out why she stopped and now she didn’t have the time. Before she could switch her train of thought, a blunt object hit her violently in the back of the head and she limply ‘laid’ in the air, something other than her own powers keeping her afloat.

Her eyes slowly closed as her consciousness faded into blackness, a voice sounding as if coming from a radio speaking, “Do you have the package?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring her to me.”

(written by Karnal Sin)

“The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.” – Carl Jung

The stink of ammonium carbonate successfully woke Kathryn to consciousness, her eyes fluttering open to see – nothing. The room she was now apparently in was small, she could feel the proximity of the walls near her, but it was completely pitch black. Blinking her long lashes a few times, her pupils began to dilate.

She groaned, the nerves in her body becoming painfully aware of the pounding in the back of her head, her arms nearly disjointed as they were strapped to the back of the chair she was sitting in.

She groaned.

“What…” she started, swallowing her spit to moisten her dry throat.

“Don’t speak.”

Her memories crept back to her – her fight with Xanatos, her hasty escape from the apartment, the chase after President SK’s business card…

“Sir, she’s awake.”

Her eyes adjusted enough to make out three men – at least she thought they were men – standing around her.

She heard a door open and the distinct sound of heels approaching her.

Something smelled familiar.

She tried to calm her nerves, but it wasn’t working very well, “Don’t bother trying to get out, Kathryn, this room has a dampening field around it specifically attuned to your technology. Your powers won’t work here.”

She knew that voice and it shocked her into clarity.

A gentle blue glow began to form in front of her – she instinctually braced herself.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Kathryn, not yet…I just thought you’d like to know who’s talking to you.” The blue glow turned into a soft haze that filled the empty room – revealing three commando-styled men and a woman who had been presumed dead by both her and her husband.

Star of America.

Kathryn spoke, “You’re…” she licked her lips, her pink tongue darting out of her mouth quickly as she wanted to finish her sentence, “suppose to be dead.”

Star of America had no expression on her face. Her bleach blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun that angled her face harshly. Kathryn was used to seeing her in her red, white, and blue, over the top patriotic, get up, only exceeded in cheesiness by her overly bubbling enthusiasm and positivity. To see her now, clad in basic operative’s clothing was beyond seeing a ghost from the past – it was unnerving and confusing.

When Kathryn’s implant began to malfunction, she had been forced to house four distinct personalities within her – one of which belonged to another corporeal being – Star of America. It was assumed that she had died after some time had passed and Kathryn remained in her coma – Star’s body would have remained unconscious and starved to death. Officially, she was Missing In Action, the truth of her whereabouts a dark secret that she and her husband shared.

“My status is none of your business.”

Kathryn searched her counterpart’s face, looking for anything that might clue her in as to what she was doing there.

Star of America nodded to one of the men, who quickly responded and walked to one of the darkened corners of the room.

A thick silence enveloped the room – whatever the man was doing, he was doing it quietly – and Kathryn’s nerves were fraying more with each passing moment, feeling the eyes of her Prime Earth’s counterpart sizing her up.

Kathryn almost felt embarrassed – the last she had ‘spoken’ with Star of America she was, as President SK had put it, at her peak. She was the Consort to one of the most powerful men in the multi-verse, Mistress of an entire planet, commanding officer of the Vixen branch, a feared figure within Paragon City and on everyone’s list. Now what was she? She couldn’t even look at Star in the eyes.

She was thankful when Star broke the silence, “I need you to do me a favor.” Her words were even toned and completely unable to read, although her mouth remained open, not quite complete with her thought.

The man returned with a video camera affixed to a tripod. He gingerly placed the conventional piece of technology firmly in front of the captive, a few feet back.

The breath Star had been holding relaxed, “I need you to cry, Kathryn.” Thus far it was the one thing Star had said that had any tone to it at all.

“What?” Kathryn looked at Star incredulously, not sure if she heard her right, still trying to decipher that statement.

Casually, Star of America extended a gloved hand in her captive’s direction, her body turned slightly away from Kathryn as she inspected the man’s set up of the device. With a gentle flick of a finger a hyper-focused beam of blinding blue energy shrieked across the room, violently hitting its mark on Kathryn’s knee. The shot sent her and the chair flying backwards as flesh crushed against shattering bone and her skin baked under the intense burst. All she could do was scream.

“That’s better…” there was a sick pleasure in Star’s voice as she glided over to Kathryn. Leaning over the overturned chair, Kathryn on her back, Star looked into the watering eyes of her former rival.

She smiled, almost sweetly, before closing her eyes as she took a long breath in through her nose.

“I have a gift for you, Kathryn,” she whispered into her ear, “Something that your hero-husband forgot about when saving YOUR life. But before I give it to you, you’re going to do this for me. You’re going to bring him to me.”

Her eyes were blurred with tears and she couldn’t see anything beyond badly lit masses of light. It was in that moment she realized who she was dealing with, what ‘gift’ was to be given, and she had never been more terrified in her life.


Xanatos stared at the television screen, his body visibly tense as he stood still, arms crossed. No one had wanted to say anything to him when the news had come. The Paragon Morning News came back on air:

If you’re just joining us, you will be pleased to know that formerly renowned villain Karnal Sin, and live-in girlfriend to famed hero Xanatos, has finally been arrested by Paragon City Police. Earlier today she was seen by several eye witnesses and PCCTV brutally murdering her double, Star of America.

The news avoided showing his wife wearing the Xanatess outfit – and instead put images of her in her former Dominion red up on the screen as they continued, often cutting to video of her being dragged away in cuffs, a defiant look on her face:

With mounting evidence, District Attorney McKinna Robertson had this to say on the indictment…

“Paragon can sleep tonight, knowing that its elected officials are taking care of this problem. No amount of bullhorning from her roommate is going to stop us this time and—“

A shard of ice lodged itself into the screen, sparks and electronic debris cascading off the wall mounted television to the floor.

“Wife – not girlfriend, not roommate.”

Everyone around him sat quietly, unsure of what he was going to do next. A pregnant pause found a comfortable seat in the room.

A student of the Academy slithered by the doorway, speaking to a friend unknowingly heard by everyone in the room with Xanatos, “I don’t know what he was thinking – people don’t change – once a criminal, always a criminal.”

(written by Karnal Sin)

“Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism.” – Carl Jung

“Next on the docket – The City of Paragon V. Kathryn Moore.”

Kathryn stood up as the court guard spoke her name, having not said a single word since she was arrested, her court appointed lawyer scrambling with his suitcase. The judge, barely looking up from his paperwork, lazily spoke into the court microphone, “What are the charges?”

McKinna Robertson quickly followed suit in standing. She was a young district attorney and people often times called her overzealous. Wearing a lavender blouse with a form fitting black jacket and slacks that off set her loose and warm brown hair, she lifted her head high, proudly reading:

“First degree murder on two accounts, grand larceny, aiding and abetting, fraud, man slaughter on three accounts, breaking and entering, assisted suicide, impersonating an officer, and weaponized without a license…” Her voice took the time to stroke each charge, a smug look on her face, peering over to the defendant at the end of the list.

Kathryn had no expression on her face.

The judge looked up over at the district attorney, “Are all those charges really necessary, Robertson? Why don’t you throw on resisting arrest while you’re at it? She’s already charged with a capital crime.”

Kathryn’s attorney spoke up nervously, “Uh, your honor—“

McKinna furrowed her brows together finishing for him, “She didn’t resist arrest, your honor.”

The judge scoffed and then turned his gaze at Kathryn, “How does the defendant plea?”

Kathryn finally spoke, her voice a soft whisper in the room in comparison to the ruckus of bodies moving in and out for their own arraignments, “Not guilty, sir.”

The judge peered over his glasses at her, “Young lady, I know who you are – and I know the resources you have – no offense to Mister Buchanan here, but wouldn’t you want a more experienced trial and defense lawyer for this? Four of these charges are capital offenses. Your life is on the line.”

Kathryn’s stared blankly ahead, speaking completely monotone, “Thank you, your honor – but I am fine with my representation.” The man next to her audibly gulped.

The judge shook his head at her before addressing McKinna, who took her cue adeptly, “The city asks that the defendant be held without bail and that she relinquish the access to assets as she is, quite literally, a flight risk.”

The judge nodded, “Defendant will be placed in county until the time that she is moved to a cell appropriated to accommodate her special needs. Bailiff, please take the defendant. Next!”

(written by Xanatos)




Founders Falls is one of the few neighbourhoods in Paragon City that retained the youthful naivety of the Smithstown years. While other places, such as Kings Row and Skyway City, have fallen into squalor, Founders Falls has always been a place of hope and prosperity. No matter how many demonic creatures stalked the streets at night, the denizens of Founders Falls have always retained their characteristic hopeful optimism. It was, after all, the birthplace of the City of Heroes.

Inside Founders Falls police station sits a hero. A powerful hero. A famous hero. A hero the people of Paragon have accepted as their own so much that he has become part of the City itself. He is no longer his own man. Instead he has become the property of the people he has sworn to protect. His own character and foibles ignored in favour of a caricature of a man. A golden age hero with amusing catchphrases and an outdated costume. A fake unreal person without thoughts, desires, or dreams.

To find that such a person can feel, can have emotion, and can have weakness is to shatter the illusion. The curtain is lifted and the hero becomes just like everyone else. Weak. Uncertain. Confused.

In Paragon City. This is the beginning of the end for a hero.

Founders Falls police station; the hero sits there slumped in his golden age outfit. The white fire from his eyes lighting up the tiny makeshift interrogation room that has been set up especially for him. He sits there, enclosed by four identical two-glass walls. Behind the walls, undoubtedly, sit scores of police officers studying his every move. Opposite from him within the room sits another man. His overweight frame a stark contrast to the hero. What was the man's name? Detective Hammond? The hero cannot remember. He is not as good with names as he once was.

"The mighty Xanatos eh?" Said the detective, as he flicked through his notepad idly, "Never figured you'd be the type to wind up with a broad like Karnal Sin." Began the detective, not hiding his apparent joy at having one of Paragon’s finest sat opposite him.

"I assure you detective, my wife is innocent. You see..." began the hero in response, his tone calm and assuring, despite the detective's aggressive manner.

"Look pal, I heard you the first time," spat the detective, cutting off the hero mid-stream, "You reckon your wife has a split personality or something? Two minds inside her head? Possession? Something like that? I understand where you're coming from big guy, I really do. But that kinda thing happens so often we can't really make exceptions for it anymore. Especially with a reformed ALPHA villain."

The hero leant forward as if to respond, only to allow his shoulders to slump. He glared at the detective. Though the hero was loath to admit it, he had a point. The detective knew this and, realising he'd just cut short the one defence the hero had in his wife’s favour, he began to circle the small room pacing around the hero as he did so. He was careful not to get too close to the hero. But he paced the room idly, waving his hands about and touching the glass at inopportune moments. He was like an artist as he moved, painting an invisible picture with his hands.

"So here's my theory," said the Detective as he lit a cigarette idly. He took a quick puff before continuing, "You see a pretty face with a nasty attitude attached. You get stupid. You think you can save her. You think everyone else is just going to sit around and let you play god. But something goes wrong, so you ask your hero buddies to cover for you…"

"That's not what happened." said the hero, interrupting the detective suddenly, his head snapping to the side as he glared at the rotund man.

"Then what did happen?" said the Detective, taking a step towards the hero, "What happened Xanatos? Why are you sticking up for a murderer?"


"Her mind is gone Xanatos, there is nothing you can do for her now..."

The two heroes stood steadfast, eyes locked on each other for the slightest hint of movement. One of them; Xanatos, founder and chairman of The Defenders of Paragon. The other; Inertial. His protégé. Leader of The Peacekeepers. They were the best of friends, but at this precise moment in time, in the memorial garden of The D, immediately adjacent to the medical wing that housed Xanatos' comatose wife, the two heroes' friendship was reaching breaking point. Xanatos had only recently returned to Earth, claiming his absence was due to a prolonged intergalactic search for a way to cure his wife’s mental condition. And now he wanted to take her with him. Inertial was having none of it. To Inertial, Karnal Sin was still a villain. To Xanatos, she was the love of his life.

"You don't know that!" bellowed Xanatos as he eyed his protégé sternly, "I will not allow anyone to stand in my way son, not even you!"

As he said this, small icicles began to form around his hands, and a cool mist slowly enveloped the room. Inertial followed suite as blue energy began to swirl around his hands, the light from his fists illuminating the statues throughout the memorial garden. Statues of fellow Defenders that had fallen in combat. Statues of brave men, women, and other creatures that had given their lives in the call of duty surrounded the two heroes. Dotted about the grassy knolls of the garden. It was a beautiful serene place. It was not a place for battle.

Sadly, conflict seemed inevitable.

"...what about us?" said a series of voices from behind Xanatos.

Xanatos turned and saw something that made his heart sink. Assembled before him were The Defenders of Paragon. His closest allies, friends, and, in many ways, his family. Libertyman, Psy-Beetle, Frost Sampson, Korpershutz, Night Club, Red Switchblade, Cyborg Robbie, Dynatron, Zacharian, Shadowstar, The Cure, Doc Justice, Frost Phantom, The Mystic, Lorock, Nuclear Warrior, American Ion, Rael, Crimzon, Sal'Vation, Pretty Kitty, Stryder Zero, Atom Slash, Thunderbeast, Yellow Wolf, Chain Lightning, Xar Vir, Crazy Ace, Cloud Runner, Coronae, Kozzma, Heather Wind, Major Marvel, Veikira II, 8 Ball, Forceman, Generic, Red Queen, Superhero Girl, Monstrus, National Star, Knightward, American Eagle, Violet Raccoon, Nightman, Steel Heart, Collision, Toxin. And at the front of the group, a man Xanatos would have called his brother; Exodus.

"Stand down Xanatos, you know how this will end." said Exodus as the assembled heroes began to surround the iceman. Each of them readying their powers as they did so.

Xanatos said nothing in response. Ice merely continued to form around him until he was completely lost from sight by an iceberg fit for an ocean. Inside the ice, the blue hero closed his eyes and uttered a silent prayer. Love can drive men to do terrible things. He only hoped that one day his friends would forgive him. He hoped and prayed they would forgive him for what he was about to do.

"What's he do-?" began Exodus mere moments before the ice block exploded outwards violently, sending shards of ice hurtling towards the group of heroes. Several of them fell in an instant, knocked down by the explosion. The more powerful members simply shrugged off the attack, their faces glaring with hatred at their icy leader.

"If you seek to stop me..." said Xanatos as he caught his breath, his movements uncharacteristically frantic as he tried to keep his eye on every hero simultaneously, "...then by all means do so."

"Defenders, take him down." Barked Exodus, as he fired an energy blast at the frozen hero. The heroes wasted no time charging at Xanatos in an explosion of fire, ice, darkness, energy, and all other manner of superpowers. To his credit, Xanatos managed to fend off the first volley of attacks reasonably well with an ice shield, but the sheer number of attacks proved too much for the golden age hero to handle; for he was quickly knocked down to his knees.

As the frozen fist of freedom fell to his knees, overwhelmed by the physical firepower of his team-mates, the melee heroes had moved in close enough to join in the fight. They swung at their leader, with swords, claws, and in some cases, their bare fists. Some connected, some didn't, some fell victim to a retaliatory ice sword or frozen fist, but as more and more heroes joined the close quarters scuffle, Xanatos began to weaken under the sheer brute force of his allies' attacks. His costume hung from him in tatters, his body was utterly battered, bruised, and bleeding. His eyes nearly swollen shut from the abuse. But still he fought, teeth grit, with all he had. Fighting with such strength and power he had never unleashed before. Fighting for the one person who mattered more to him than anything else in the world: Kathryn Moore.

It was Inertial that landed the final blow on the hero, a swift energy punch to the jaw; knocking the chilly boy scout to the floor. As Xanatos fell, every other hero suddenly stopped fighting. The unconscious form of their leader in front of them proving to be a lucid moment for Paragon's finest. The situation was not one any of them had truly anticipated. Their confusion quickly turned to astonishment, as the unconscious body stirred, began to move, and eventually hauled itself upright. Xanatos was not finished.

"Th-that...all...y-ou....g-got..." said a semi-conscious Xanatos, as he squared off against his team-mates once more. His swollen eyes hiding the pain, both emotional and physical, that hid behind them.

"Oh for the love of...Just STAY DOWN." said Inertial, clearly exasperated as he shot an energy blast the size of a small car at Xanatos. His arms shaking from the force of it. He took no pleasure in assaulting his mentor and friend, he just wanted it all to be over.

The assembled heroes watched with baited breath as the energy beam shot through the air, only to see it stop mere inches from its intended target. The blast was halted not by any icy means, but by a strange green force field that had surrounded Xanatos. Someone had decided to make their presence known..

And that someone was Bayne.

"That's enough heroes. Stand down all of you," said the second-in-command of The Defenders of Paragon as he flew through the air, his right hand emitting a green force field around Xanatos. As Bayne touched down, he nodded firmly to the heroes en masse, before turning to their disgraced leader.

He studied him a moment. A few seconds at most, for Bayne was not one for philosophising. Nevertheless he studied his leader momentarily and contemplated just how far the hero had fallen. It was tragic. It didn't really matter though. They all knew what was coming next.

"Effective immediately I am taking active command of The Defenders of Paragon. You will be removed from our records and are to cease all contact with us hereafter," said Bayne as he walked towards Xanatos, slowly lowering the force field so that his former leader could stand of his own volition, "Now take Karnal Sin and leave here Xanatos."

"Leave here and never return."


As the memories swirled around his ancient head, the hero's hands gripped the metallic table, idly freezing it in the process. The years had not been kind to the hero, he had lost many friends and allies due to his dalliance with a renowned supervillain, but nothing could compare to the rejection of his former supergroup.

"I appreciate the sob story I really do," said the detective as he wiped away an imaginary tear from his face, "But I don't understand how that has anything to do with WHY you're sticking up for this broad?"

"...I made a choice detective. And it is not a choice I can take back," came the predictable response from a man's mind lost to love.

The detective said nothing in response. he simply grinned in an odd manner before briskly walking out of the room, a sudden smug spring in his step. He left the hero alone for several minutes, before returning with just as vigorously. Held, with a slightly sweaty hand, to his chest was a small brown envelope. He gingerly placed it atop the frozen metal table.

"Open it." said the detective.

"What is it?" said the hero.

"Just a little snapshot of what you're wife been doing these days," replied the detective, "Or should I say...WHO she's been doing..."

The folder was in his hands in a flash, torn open with gloved shaking hands, as Xanatos made the mistake of tempting fate. The photos spilled out before him, video stills from surveillance captured at the Ziggurat. The hero felt as if his heart had been pulled from his chest. There before him were photos of his wife, Karnal Sin, very much living up to her name with one of his greatest foes; the evil and otherworldly; Emperor Xanatos.

"Whoah boy would you look at that!" said the detective as he pointed out some of the more explicit pictures, "Nothing seems out of the question to that girl! I like a lady without limits; it's more honest in my opinion. Between you and me... I wish my wife had her imagination…and enthusiasm…"

The hero said nothing in response; he simply held the photos with shaking hands. Apparently the sight of one of Paragon's finest in such a sorry state was enough to calm the detective down. The interrogation had been fun while the hero put up a fight, but now he was all broken and distraught. All the detective felt for the golden ager was pity. It took all the fun out of it.

"Come on big guy, you had to know this would've happened sooner or later," said the Detective, his tone calmer now. He idly ran a hand through his hair. Sympathy was not hs strong suit. As he looked over at the hero, expecting a response but receiving none, the detective decided to end on a high note:

"She's called KARNAL friggin SIN for crying out loud!"

The hero just sat on the small metal chair pathetically, his eyes seemingly burning holes into the photograph he held in a vice like grip before him. Realising further interrogation was a wasted effort, the detective slowly gathered the photos and put them back into the folder. The hero had seen enough. Message delivered. The Detective had other cases to work today, and this boy scout wasn't saying anything. The Detective smirked as he moved towards the door. It seemed like the hero really loved his wife, warts and all.

Collecting his particulars, The detective made a bee-line for the door. He didn't so much as glance back at the hero. He's heard about Xanatos several times over the years. He was supposed to be some big name tough as nails hero. TO the Detective, he just seemed like a love sick puppy.

As he reached for the door handle, the detective felt a sudden chill run up his spine. It terrified him. What's more, it paralyzed him. He suddenly couldn’t move. He was completely stiff, utterly frozen to the spot. Try as he might, the detective could not move. It seemed that the hero was not done with him.

"She did it." said Xanatos, as he rose to his feet, slowly walking towards his frozen antagonist. Placing a large gloved hand on his shoulder, Xanatos released the man from his icy prison.

"My wife killed Star of America."

(written by Karnal Sin)


“All rise, for the honorable Judge Matthews” the bailiff’s voice boomed across the empty court room. Despite the DA’s best efforts, no one in Paragon seemed to really care about the murderer she had caught – she had been inactive and ‘fighting the good fight’ for six years and her victim, Star of America, had been thought to have been dead already – the lack of a body or evidence the only thing from making it official.

The scant few people in the room sat – mostly court officers, the jury, and lowly reporters in the back of the room idly texting on their cell phones, barely paying attention.

Well, it doesn’t matter. This is still going to help my record.

McKinna Robertson looked over at the defendant, Karnal Sin, rather, Kathryn Moore. Part of her was still irked at the thought of technically prosecuting a former Senator’s daughter, but she had to remember it wasn’t Senator Moore’s real daughter but a cheap facsimile.

As she had been preparing for this case over the last few weeks, making sure to speed up the process and take advantage of the hype in the media, she was puzzled by some of the facts in the case – not that it deterred her from creating an argument for the city.

During the plea bargain proceedings, Kathryn’s lawyer didn’t even make an attempt. At first, McKinna thought it was due to his incompetence, but she quickly realized that Kathryn wasn’t interested in a plea bargain. She thought she had offered her a good deal – 25 years to life with a chance of parole and removal of her technological enhancements. This woman supposedly had a family to go home to.

McKinna turned her head to look at the galley behind the defense – where was Kathryn’s family?

“Let’s have your opening statements.”

Taking her cue, McKinna stood, smoothing out the minor crinkles in her pant suit as her blunt heels softly hit the floor as she confidently marched to the jury.

“Don’t let your eyes deceive you, ladies and gentle,” her voice was casual, as if talking to a friend, “the defendant sitting over there isn’t Kathryn Moore of this world – but Karnal Sin – a murderer.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “A murderer of OUR beloved Kathryn Moore.“

The juries eyes looked over at Kathryn, who had lifted her gaze from the front of the courtroom to stare back at them, she was almost smiling - almost. McKinna saw Kathryn’s eyes staring at the jury, catching her off guard a little before rolling into her prepared statement, “And today, the city will show you evidence of this capitol crime punishable by the death penalty – eye witness testimony, close circuit video, and admission to the crime itself. I promise to get you out of here and back to your lives as quickly as possible…”

The jury’s eyes lit up at that suggestion and turned back to the DA.

That was easy…


“Do you have any more witnesses to call, Ms. Robertson?” The judge stretched his back a little.

McKinna had called over a dozen handpicked and perfectly pruned witnesses, read the testimony given by the defendant admitting to her crime, and she had already shown the video over the course of the last three days. The video made the most impact – showing the villainess clutching Star of America’s head in her hands, exploding through a window, flying high into the sky, a torrid of energy essentially frying her victim from the inside out, the limp body falling for tragically long seconds to an anticlimactic thud on the concrete below the nail in the coffin for the defendant as most of the jury looked away in disgust.

Kathryn sat with her back straight, her hair gently tossed into a loose up-do that framed her striking features into a softer demeanor. McKinna was dying to cross examine her – just for her own morbid curiosity as to what had gotten her to snap, and Kathryn was on the witness list for the defense, but she didn’t think she’d be called. Buchanan had asked no witnesses any questions – he had taken no turn in the cross-examination of anything, and had barely addressed the jury in his opening arguments.

“The prosecution rests, your honor.”

The judge turned slightly to the defense table, “Does the defense have any witnesses?”

Buchanan leaned to his client, whispering in her ear as she casually nodded at his words.

“Mr. Buchanan?”

The defense lawyer stood, “No, your honor. The defense rests, as well.”

McKinna couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The entire process had been one sided – and she was used to her trials being a fight, a battle of logic and persuasion, a game – a dance even.

This was simply boring.


Closing arguments were robotic and the jury took no time at deliberating.

“Have you reached a verdict?”

The forewoman nodded to the judge, “We the jury, find the defendant guilty on all counts, except for the four counts for capital punishment."

Both Kathryn and McKinna looked at the jury, the former amused, the latter bewildered.

The judge responded, “Thank you Madame Foreperson, the city thanks all of you for your service. Bailiff, take the defendant into custody.”


McKinna walked out of the court house, still bewildered as a few of the reporters came up to her, “Ms. Robertson, are you shocked by the outcome of today’s trial?”

She thought quickly on her feet, “The good people of Paragon took into account of Kathryn’s last six years of service to this fine city, as well as her family. I’m not shocked at all – and I am confident that with the accumulation of her other counts, she will serve a life sentence and be off the streets permanently.”

Even as she spoke the words, her mind was screaming at her over the idiocy of it all, but her experience in the courtroom told her the words were true. The people were fickle as a group, and a sucker for a pretty face. The law was black and white in a text book, but it’s anyone’s game in a courtroom.

The reporters suddenly rushed away from her as Kathryn was being lead to a police vehicle down the steps.

“Karnal! Karnal Sin! Are you and your lawyer already working on your appeal?”

Buchanan spoke up, “The lady will not be seeking appeal, and we have no further comment.”


Karnal Sin sat in her cell, clad in her prison-issued tank top and traffic-cone colored pants, idly examing the squalor of her room. Her leg moved involuntarily against the cot.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, pet,” Karnal Sin grinned, seemingly talking to herself, “I don’t even know why you are so upset. It’s been ages since you had a release like that one.”

Silence crept across the room as she furrowed her brows, as if trying to hear something intently, before she threw her head back laughing, “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him about our first encounter with Emperor Xanatos! I mean honestly, child, YOU’RE the one who married him all ‘for love’ and sh*t.” She chuckled out the last few words.

Karnal ran her hand through her hair, pulling on the ends a bit before looking at the tips of her nails nonchalantly, making a face at their sad state, “These conversations are really getting tiresome…don’t blame me, it’s his fault, leaving us so abruptly like that – when’s the last time you guys actually f—“

Her eyes darted to the door as four individuals came into her cell, “Hold that thought, sugar…” she rose from the cot, standing tall, “Who are you?”

(written by Judges)

In a poorly lit room, a gathering of black and white clad individuals are amassed. They all sit around a tiered table, their faces covered by obscuring and differing masks. Whatever hushed discussion is being had is interrupted by a voice coming from the intercom.

“Officer Conlee is back from the courthouse, Judges.”

“We require his presence, send him in.”

All heads turn towards the door as a man walks through its frame. It is the bailiff who had watched over the jury during deliberation of Kathryn Moore’s trial.

“What was the verdict?” One of the seated individuals inquires.

“Guilty. But they took the death penalty off the table.”

The obligatory question follows with just a hint of sarcasm, “Why?”

“The debate revolved around the idea that Star of America was already considered dead by most, Kathryn’s relationship to Xanatos and her step-child Gwen. They felt that despite the facts clearly showing her crimes, some leniency was in order.”

“Oh did they?” Caesum sarcastically responds. He stretches his legs in front of him knowing the words about to come out of one his fellow comrade's mouth.

“It’s time then. We said that if this happened that we’d take action.”

Phoenicum stands, signaling for the others to stand with him.

Everyone in the room nods in unison, a wave of movement takes the table as chairs are scraped across the marble flooring of the room and they break off into teams of three or more.

Caesum looks at Ravum, “Prepare a room for our guest.”

Ravum’s smile is easily seen against her dark skin, “Are we that confident she’ll be coming?”

And without missing a beat, several of them answer, “Yes. Yes we are.”

(written by Slaphappy)


“You know what’s really crazy? I can remember yesterday.” Slaphappy leans back in his seat in recollection, looking upon the one or two paintings in the room, and the miniature water fall on the coffee table.

“You do? You remember our session and some of training?” Aurora Lyght smiles upon her patient. They have been meeting in this room everyday for the past couple of months. To an untrained eye, she would seem to be an odd choice as a therapist to the terrorist mastermind Slaphappy. However, as a pure empath, she is completely tuned into his feelings and emotions.

“I remember all of training,” Judas says with a smirk. “All of yesterday.”

“You are two months sober. You’re going to be able to recollect much better than you used to,” Aurora, still smiling, pulls some of hair behind her ear.

He sits up a bit more in his chair. “I do. I remember much more than I used to already.”

She leans forward. “Are you remembering anything now?”

Judas leans forward toward her, with raised eyebrows and enthusiasm. “I’m remembering my father’s funeral.”

Aurora is a bit surprised and taken back. “I’m sorry.”

Judas waves his hand, and acts dismissive. “Don’t be! Happiest day of my life. That’s how this all started!”

“Your criminal activities?” Aurora puts her hands together, and continues to listen intently.

Judas throws his hands up with glee. “My life in Paragon! When I got out!” He brings his arms back down to his chair arms, and looks directly at Aurora. “After my father was dead, I was free, you see. I was very thankful towards Charon and the Bone Squad for killing him, which is a shame that they always tried to have me put away. But when I wandered out of my cage, deep from underneath the city, the first thing I found was his body. And boy, it was great to see it. I dragged it out of the alley before anyone else could get it, and invited his men to the funeral I set up. Only six showed up, and the rest is history. They’re still with me to this day.”

Aurora bites her lip. She hates this next part of their session, but she has to recite a question the G.O. Division wanted an answer for. “What happened to your father after that?”

“What?” Judas blinks, and thinks for a moment. “Oh. I guess we left him there. I moved on, and started my work. I blew up every fire truck, ambulance, mail truck, and police car in the city. Ahh, and Paragon never forgot me after that.”

Aurora clears her throat and tries to talk more sternly. “But you don’t know what happened to your father?”

Judas shrugs. “Well, he was dead, so I never gave it much thought. I figured the city picked him up.”

Aurora frowns and pulls some documents up from around under her chair. "Judas, when your file was given to me, I did my research on you before deciding to take you on as a patient....They...the city...we never recovered his body."

Slaphappy stops moving and stares at her. “That… That’s weird. I left him in the coffin. Out in the open. How could they not find it? Are they stupid? I left it… I found it. And I left it. I… He’s dead!” He laughs, loudly. “Of course he’s dead. Otherwise, why… I mean…” He scratches the back of his head, ferociously. “So what, he faked his death? For what purpose? So I could break out and become…” Judas pauses and looks off in the distance, as if he saw a train coming over a hill toward his face. “No. That’s ridiculous. So I’m some kind of pawn in some kind of master scheme? Did he plan this? His plan is still in effect? This is all part of it. All part of it. He had the means. He had a psychic, a wizard, an engineering genius. No, ‘My Absolute Nation’ is dead. M.A.N. is dead. This is impossible.” He jumps up from his seat and points at Aurora accusingly. “Crazy. You’re crazy!”

“Judas…” Aurora remains seated, looking away from his glare.

He sits back down, his eyes darting back and forth. “No, if he’s alive, then… We’re all… He’s still running things. The MAN. He’s still running it. Still pulling the strings. And I’m nothing but a tool for him. Just like he wanted. I don’t know what I’ve done to help him, but that’s how he works.”

She reaches over to grab his knee. “You didn’t plan for this-“

Judas swats it away. “But he did. M.A.N. That was his plan. The day daddy was dead… It was the happiest day. I was so happy. Slaphappy, I guess you could say. And I wanted it for everyone. I wanted everyone to feel just as liberated and free, as I did. Free from their jobs, their society, their Gods. So, that’s what I set out to do. That’s what I’ve been doing. But that’s what he wanted.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” she says, pleadingly.

He shakes his head. “Maybe because that’s what he wanted. Maybe I’ve been brainwashed, like everyone else in his silly, little cult. I believe in the survival of the fittest, and you can’t be fit and burdened. You can’t be strong and sad. Happiness is a part of survival. That’s what I do. I am a liberator. I set free slaves. Everyone else? Cogs in the machines. I have no qualms killing them. They’re not human. Not like us. Is that mine? Is that my belief? Or was it his?”

Aurora is on the verge of tears, seeing him tortured. “It doesn’t matter who thought of it first-“

Judas yells and interrupts her. “It does. Because of it was his idea, then I’m doing his work. Then everything I’ve done will amount to nothing. It’ll be his. It won’t be mine. That’s all I’m doing, is helping him. I have to do something. Does Joe know?”

Aurora looks away once more, and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

Judas puts his head in his hands and tries to keep it together. “He has to. He knows everything. But he would have done something about it. So he doesn’t know. I have to get the word out. Only the GO Division knows. And now, me. What has the G.O.D. done so far?”

Aurora gets close to begging him. “I’m not privy to that information, Judas, I was only hired-“

“Aurora. We have to do something.” Judas falls onto his knees, landing on the floor in front of Aurora, looking up into her face.

She looks down at him, not believing what she is seeing. “We? Judas-“

Slaphappy grabs her hands. “You’re my friend, Aurora. Therapist? Please. You have never had to bring in a notebook to remember anything. We’ve just been two people talking for two months. You’ve helped me so much, because you care. But, now other people are in danger. We’re the only ones that can do something about it.”

She tries to get his hands off, but he’s holding on too tightly. “What can I do?”

Judas tightens his grip. “Get me out of here. I’ll come back, I promise, but get me out of here. As long as he’s alive, we’re all in terrible danger.”

Aurora raises her voice, getting emotional. “I can’t allow you out of the complex so you can kill your father-“

Judas lets go of her hands, gets up, yelling at the wall behind him. “Fine! I’ll ‘arrest’ him! Whatever! You can trust me!”

She stands up to follow him. “They’ll never allow-“

Judas turns back toward her and pulls her close. “I said you can trust me. I got this. I took on the Dawn Patrol and the Defenders of Paragon. I got shot by a Rikti airship, and I lived! I’ve evaded the police while OD’ing! I killed a bear with my bare hands, which were holding guns! I had sex with an under aged half mouse, half girl! I’ve killed more people than Buddhists! I’m Judas Alice Black, the friendly neighborhood terrorist, and this time, Slaphappy will save the day! But I can’t do it without your help, Aurora. What do you say?”

“I don't really look at myself as the kind of person who craves attention, but I've never been to therapy so there's probably a lot of stuff about myself that I don't know.” – Al Yankovic

“Look, I know this looks bad!” Judas Black yells over the screaming mob of people running around the city. “But I’m actually here to help! You can all stop panicking!” All the surrounding buildings are burning to the ground, and the PPD are swarming the area. “All right, so, maybe there’s a little bit too much fire. That’s my bad. But, I have it on very good authority that there are some very bad people in this vicinity, and I’m just smoking them out! So they’ll come, and I’ll take care of them, and boom, we’re all saved! So, how about we stop screaming, and we all exit in an orderly fashion-“ A tear gas canister slams into the side of his head. “You mother *******!”

Slaphappy pulls out a pistol and starts firing back at the officers. “You’re lucky I’m immune to this ****!” he screams as the gas fills the area. He pulls out a flask from his vest, and takes a big swig. Aurora comes running around the corner, healing people as she hits the cloud of tear gas.

“Judas, are you in there?!” She tries to stifle a cough.

“Yes, baby cakes!” He holsters his gun. “I have this all under control! My father’s men will come out of that building right there soon enough, and everyone will settle the **** down!”

Aurora tries to wave some the gas away from her face. “Are you drunk? Judas, what are you doing?!”

Judas exhales heavily. “I’m having an extinction burst!”

Aurora, still trying to wave the smoke away, tries to listen over the explosions and screaming surrounding them. “What?!”

Slaphappy sighs. “Oh god, it is awful. It’s when a previous learned behavior becomes irrelevant, so I keep doing the irrelevant learned behavior anyway until I realize it’s irrelevant and I calm the **** down!”

Aurora, feeling like she is not comprehending this, asks one more time. “What?!”

“I stopped killing people so I’m drunk and I set this school on fire!” Judas picks up a bazooka at his feet.

“Look, everyone has relapses. Well, not relapses quite like this, but no one has died yet, and we can still fix this. I’m going to go in here, and pull some more people out. Keep the police at bay until our back up shows.” Aurora runs into the school.

Judas nods and looks around at the gas to try to see where she ran off too. “Well, you do that, kid! Good luck!” He turns toward where he thinks the officers are at, but is in reality facing the school. “Look, you bastards! I’m on your side! I’m new at this heroics stuff! I made a few mistakes! But trust me, I’m taking out the bad guy! Look, let me just, I’m pretty sure he’s in this building!” He fires his bazooka at the school, long after Aurora had entered it.

While she is gathering some students and teachers, the missile collides into the side of the building. Smoke and flames burst into the sky, and people on the street cover their faces. She pulls everyone in close, trying use her empathic powers to heal from the flames, yet it will never be enough. The entire complex collapses on itself in fire and dust. The surrounding area gets enveloped in debris and ash.

The tear gas clears and Judas removes his sunglasses to take a better look. “There! I killed them! You’re welcome!”

A few police offers jump on top of him, knocking him to the ground. “Let go of me, you weirdos! I’m just killing the MAN!”

An officer takes out a baton, and hits him along his spine. “He’s lost his god damn mind! Shut up, you damn hippie!”

“No!” Judas laughs, realizing how he must sound. “It’s okay! GOD gave me the go ahead!”

They throw him in handcuffs and lift him up from the ground, dragging him to a nearby squad car. “This is a misunderstanding, guys! You don’t get it! Guys!” He kicks one officer to the ground, and wiggles away. “They have to know! They have to know!” With his hands still behind his back, he runs down the street, and falls down in front of an open mailbox, screaming into it. “Joe! Joe! The Evangelist is alive! The MAN is still in effect! Joe, please, you have to tell them! Tell everyone-“The police caught up, and grab Judas by the shoulders to bring him back to the squad car. “Guys! Please! Aurora?! Joe! The MAN!” One more baton swing onto the back of his head, and he is knocked out cold.

He did not find out until well into his sentencing that Aurora Lyght was dead. Judas Black didn’t say anything. He didn’t have any comments or jokes. For the first time, he stayed in solitary confinement with no attempts to escape, quietly, while a trial would decide his fate. The entire world watched while the justice system would decide if he would live or die. In a bizarre turn of events, he received a life imprisonment for his crimes instead. Judas Black took it, unwillingly, and stayed in prison much longer than any of the other times he was arrested. He stayed in his cell, and didn’t say a word.

(written by Judges)

Caesum stood, waiting for his team to arrive, the other judges exiting the council room. His eyes wandered along the nearly blank walls that housed the council room. His eyes stopped as they came across the single most ornate adornment, Lady Justice. He walked closer to the granite statue. Almost completely monotone in color, Lady Justice stood classically robed, her right hand extended and holding the scales of justice. The Scales were a representation and throw back to Roman Goddess Justia and her stoic face, which was covered in the traditional blindfold, was a nod to the Greek Goddess of Luck, Tyche. He smiled to himself as he pondered her, but the smile quickly turned to an expression of frustration as he looked at her other hand grasping the Sword of Vengeance.

The Judicial Council had worked tirelessly in the shadows, forming allegiances and support from key members and participants in the broken system, allowing them to move freely and gather information when they chose to. A series of clerks, court officers, attorneys, registered judges, politicians, and more, all formed the network that was necessary for them to fulfill their mission. The scales of justice were now properly formed.

But the sword.

Justice was incomplete without the homage to Nemesis, and so were their efforts.

The Judicial Council had been monitoring the local trials with great interest and three of them caught their eyes: Kathryn Moore (Karnal Sin), Sebastian Kain (President SK), and Judas Black (Slaphappy). The three villains were exactly what they had been looking for. Kathryn’s ability to infiltrate and gather information was legendary, with or without deception; she had a forked and silvery tongue that had even wooed one of the most powerful heroes in Paragon. Sebastian’s immense influence, brute strength, and layered intellect were commanding and positioned him as a natural leader. Judas’s mastered perception and understanding of chaos brought balance to the Trifecta; with a spotless success record in his efforts, Judex needed his obsessive compulsive personality as Kathryn and Sebastian were easily distracted. Had any of them been properly executed under the law, their attention would have moved on to other potentials. However, the complete failure of the jury to convict on their most heinous of crimes beckoned their response. And respond they would.

Niveum walked into the Council room suddenly with two others, one of which Caesum recognized as Cheirium…the other…he had no idea who was wearing the robes of Judex.

“We just received this in delivery from Crey’s Industries,” Niveum pushed the unknown Judge forward. The Unknown said nothing.

“The other Judges will be in place soon. Shall we go make our offer?” Cheirium couldn’t help but smile as she spoke the words. Despite the Judges’ best efforts, an excitement filled them as a whole, as they felt they were soon to become complete as an organization.

Cheirium looked at the Unknown Judge up and down, “How is she walking?” Niveum lifted her hand to her temple, “Fear not, Judge. We have this handled.”

Caesum nodded to his comrades, “Let’s move out. And let’s hope that our search is over.”

(written by the Judges)

Arriving at the Ziggurat shortly after nightfall, the four Judges nodded casually as they walked the bridge across the moat that isolated the Zig from the rest of Brickstown. Wearing their black and white uniforms, often times referred to by other Judges as their Judex Robes, they passed through each security check point with ease as their working members cleared their phony credentials.

Niveum struggled navigating both herself and the Unknown Judge through the narrow corridors of the Zig, nearly running the both of them in the frame of the stairway leading up to the higher security cells.

Cheirium quickly grabbed the both of them, a curt command, “Handled?” she playfully mocked her fellow Judge as they walked up the steel steps single file.

Top floor. Room 12.

The officer standing guard nodded to the four of them, and lowered the security force field keeping their target locked up.

Karnal Sin was relaxing, her hands behind her head with her left leg dangling nonchalantly off the side of the cot, seemingly having a one-sided conversation with herself, laughing. The Judges stood and watched for a moment as she continued on. She quickly turns her head to them, standing, “Who are you?”

“Karnal Sin,” Caesum spoke up finally, “We are Judex.”

“Am I supposed to know you?”

“No.”

Kathryn flipped her legs around and stood up, “Pleasant response, because you’ll have to forgive me as I’m not familiar with…you or your…organization.”

Cheirium grew impatient, stepping forward, “We are here for your judgment and to make you an offer.”

Karnal Sin smirked, “What offer could you possibly have for me, heroes?”

Niveum smirked right back at her, “We are not heroes.”

Karnal Sin tilted her head at that, intrigued, “How are you in the Zig…unarrested, then?”

Caesum interjected, ignoring her question, “We’re offering you a way out, Kathryn.” He was sure to use her civilian name when addressing her this time, “Where you can get away out of this cell…and out of that body.”

Karnal Sin’s eyes narrowed at the suggestion, “I worked for six years to get back INTO this body…”

“Not you, Karnal Sin. Interested?”

“In case you didn’t notice, there four of you, one of me, in a buffered room no less, and hundreds of overpowered guards out there. How do you expect to get me out of here?”

“The same way we came in. Come.”

On cue, the force field at the doorway lowered again, and the four judges parted their ranks, allowing Karnal Sin to walk past them hesitantly. She was sincerely shocked when nothing happened and they walked down the steps towards her freedom.

“What’s in it for Judex?”

“You are,” all three answered simultaneously.

(written by Slaphappy)

“America is the land of the second chance - and when the gates of the prison open, the path
ahead should lead to a better life.” – George W. Bush

Judas Black lies on his back, with his arms behind his head, wearing an orange jump suit. He stares at his prison cell’s ceiling. A sound cannot be heard. His solitary confinement is truly solitary. On the outside, there are thousands of criminals, yelling and screaming at each other. Beyond that is the city, where everyone goes about their daily lives; and on the news, pundits make their opinions known on the flawed court decision to keep Slaphappy alive.

In this cell, however, there is nothing. Besides a meal every once in awhile, nothing happens, and nothing is said.

Judas clears his throat, still looking at the ceiling. “We… all live in our yellow submarine. Yellow submarine. … Yellow submarine.” The song echoes back at him from the iron walls. He tries to think about how the rest of it goes; someone had told him at some point or another. Judas cannot quite remember who or where it was. He sighs and rolls onto his side, contemplating singing some more, when he hears some footsteps coming toward him from the hallway.

Judas sits up on the side of his cot, wondering if the last meal came a few hours ago, or a few days ago.

Instead of the usual sliding in of a food tray though, the prison cell door opened completely. Three people came in wearing black and white tights and full face masks.

“Where’s the grub?” Judas stands up.

“We are here to escort you out," one of them says, stepping forward.

“I could have handled that myself if I wanted. I’d rather just have breakfast. Or lunch. Or Dinner. Whichever it is time for. I’m not entirely sure,” Judas yawns and sits back down on the bed.

The three strangers hesitate and look at each other, "We are here to set you free.”

“I heard you,” Judas sighs and scratches his chin, "No need to repeat yourself.”

A second masked person speaks, "Do you not want to get out of here?”

“I want to eat and sleep. Is that cool?” He runs a hand through his hair.

They look at each other, and decide to go ahead with their pitch, "Judas Black, you have been invited to join us-“

“Oh boy, another club?” Judas Black rolls his eyes, "MAN. Arachnos. Fracture. Malice in Wonderland. Smile Squad. Rogues Gallery. ERA. GO Division. You know what? I don’t care anymore. I really... suggest you get out of here.”

The last masked person who has not spoken steps forward to talk, "This is an opportunity to get what you want-“

“Yes, because everyone knows what I want, eh? Everyone wants what I want. That’s why I’m the only one trying to make a difference.” Judas Black starts laughing hysterically, "No one knows what the damn hell I want. That’s why they think I’m crazy. That’s why they put me in here. So, you know, screw it.”

The masked people continue, "We can give you salvation, redemption-“

Judas gets in the face of the nearest of the three, starting to get hostile, "What the hell do any of those words even mean?”

“We can get you your father.” They nod in agreement.

“Oh? And what if that’s a lie? Eh? What if this is just another way to get me to maim and kill for a cause I don’t even believe in?” Judas’s eyes widen, looking at the blank mask in front of him.

“We will bring you back here, if that is what you want, we simply would like you to hear what we have to say.” They stand still, afraid of any movements causing Judas to react negatively.

Judas takes in a breath, and exhales slowly, "Fine. I’ll bite. Who are you guys?”

They extend their hands and say in unison, "We are Judex. We can help put in the system you would rather have.”

((thanks for posting the rest of this!))