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Static Justice

By @maykrebey

Justice Sleeps

      “Hello, and welcome to the 10 o’clock news on Channel 7. Our leading story is Mr. Cyclone’s robbery trial. He robbed the First Imperial Bank’s main vault, attempting to take 2.5 million dollars, back in October. Today, he was on trial for second degree robbery, as well as the demolition of public property, and manslaughter. He received a five-year sentence for the robbery charges. But this lenient sentence isn’t even the most controversial part of the trial! He was found innocent of the other charges brought against him, and his opponent in the courtroom and in the superpower conflict, Mr. Electric, has been scheduled to be tried for these crimes instead. He was also charged with causing a disturbance during the trial, trying to use his electrical powers on defense lawyer, Attorney Casilda Oikeus. She has a history of demanding trials for many of our city’s beloved heroes, claiming they are working outside of the law. Let’s go to footage from earlier today, of Ms. Oikeus’s comments after the trial.”

         The image on the screen transitions to Casilda standing outside the courthouse, several microphones pushed towards her face. In a calm, professional voice, she speaks plainly into the camera. “Mr. Cyclone did commit a crime, and yes, he should receive the punishment his offense has earned him. But he snuck into the basement of the bank and didn’t harm any person during the robbery. The damages and death of civilians only occurred when Mr. Electric interfered. His reckless way of stopping someone he labels as a ‘super villain’ has endangered the people he claims to protect. Also, the excessive force he used to subdue Mr. Cyclone, who was trying to surrender to the police, was intended to kill him on the spot. The electrical shock was shot straight through his heart until he collapsed, presumed de—”

          Casilda clicks the tv off, letting the darkness swallow the room. She sinks deeper into the couch with an exhausted sigh.

          “Hey, I was watching that! Cas, turn it back on!”

          Cas turns her head, so she can barely see Maddie, who is sitting next to her. Moonlight silhouettes her in the darkness, but she can easily imagine the mildly amused look in her eyes, even as she tries to pout.

          “I can’t stand to listen to my recorded voice. Plus, I don’t want to have to think about work right now. My job is done for the day.”

          “But I don’t always get to see the good work you do.” Maddie leans towards Cas, trying to grab the remote from her. Cas makes a halfhearted effort to keep the remote away from her, but Maddie is able to wrestle it away. “You don’t have to watch, but I want to.”

          Cas raises her hand in surrender and gets up from the couch with a deep sigh. “Fine. I’m going to go to bed then.”

          “You are such an old lady!” Maddie pushes the button on the remote, and the TV makes a popping sound as it illuminates the room again.

          Cas gives her a crackling glare, which is met with a sickeningly sweet smile. Rolling her eyes, she walks past the couch and towards the hallway. Without looking over her shoulder, she calls back, “Don’t have too much fun without me. And go to bed soon; you have an early morning tomorrow.”

          “Sir, yes, sir!”

Cas doesn’t bother to turn around to see Maddie give her usual, snarky salute to her over the back of the couch.

          “Good night, Maddie,” she softly yells as she passes through the bedroom door and then closes it.

          “Good night, Casilda!” Maddie cheerfully calls back, as she turns up the volume on the TV.

          Cas is hit with a gust of cold air when she steps into the bedroom. Her eyes flick to the window, which has been thrown open. With a huff, she crosses to the window to shut them.

          She yells through the closed door. “Maddie, I’m not as hot blooded as you are. Please close the window at night.” She pauses to try to hear a response, but there is none. She just hears the muffled voices of the news. She probably can’t hear me over the TV. I’ll talk to her about it when she comes to bed.

          She walks into the bathroom and reaches for the light switch. She stops when her eyes pick up a figure shrouded in the darkness. As her heart pounds in her chest, she flips on the light. In the split-second it takes for the lights to flicker on, a tall, bulky figure clothed in green turns into a blur of emerald as it charges towards her. Before she can let out a scream, she feels a blunt blow to her head, and her vision snaps to black before she even slumps to the floor.

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