(e/f) SG: Reflecting Upon Reflections (or Caustic Illusions) Part E

[Eric Burns]

[Beginning of Part E]



                      *          ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤*


*                            Wednesday Afternoon*
*                                 (Eastern)*
*                           A.L.U.C.H.Q.M.O.U.S.E.*
*                       B Tower Medium Detention Level*
*                                 Boston, MA*



     Maria was sitting on the floor of her cell. She didn't bother sitting
on the bed -- a bed or a floor all felt the same to her. She was still
wearing the robe she'd been given -- it was easier than getting into clothes
without Phobos's ingenious machinery stitching the clothing into place
around her. Besides, it didn't matter. She'd be wearing prison orange soon
enough.

     "Miss Mendez?"

     Maria looked up.

     Nouveau Skunk -- that superhero-slash-lawyer -- was standing there,
along with Trashman and Healer.

     So it was time.

     "Miss Mendez?" Nouveau Skunk asked again.

     "Yes," she said, softly.

     "How are you feeling?"

     Maria snorted. "Numb." She looked down. "I always feel numb."

     The memory of pure tactile overload flashed through her brain --
Sensation flooding her with the most incredible pleasure anyone had ever
felt, the most hideous pain anyone had ever endured, the most--

     She shook her head. "How I feel doesn't matter," she said. "How's...
how's Samantha? And Tim and Charlie and--"

     "They're alive," Trashman said, coolly. "And they're going to stay that
way, at least for now."

     Maria paused, then nodded. "Good," she muttered. "So... I know I
haven't spoken to a public defender or anything but... I'm just going to
plead guilty to whatever. I mean, it's true, right--"

     "We've been discussing the case with different authorities," Healer
said. "Along with members of the Mob, particularly Burt. We've needed to be
in contact with certain supervising authorities anyhow, since Momentum's
relocating here for the foreseeable future. That gave us a chance to go
through options."

     "What options?" Maria said, sniffing. "I did it. I'm guilty. I..."

     *Samantha desperately trying to find breath. Tim in a catatonic state,*
*bleeding from a wound she'd given him, a monster clinging to his head.*
*Charlie locked down in a press and being branded. Burt in an
ever-shrinking*
*invisible box. Fragments of Phobos's armor on the floor--*

     Maria hunched in on herself.

     "Yes," Trashman. "You did it."

     "But... and this is important, Maria... you were under the influence of
mental coercion." Healer sounded more compassionate than Trashman did. But
then, everyone did.

     "I wasn't mind controlled."

     "That's true," Healer said. "But you were being subjected to stimuli
much greater than people can normally process. That, plus your normal state
of sensory deprivation..."

     Maria swallowed. "Ma'am... I... I have to ask..."

     Healer paused. "Yes?"

     "Why... why don't you heal me? Of my powers. I mean... they say you can
do that."

     A shadow crossed Healer's face. "I can, yes," she said. "More properly,
I can normalize and remove the psiological triggers within the mind that
allow for powers to be harnessed and controlled. I can't revert physical
conditions. Ironically... if you had control over your mirror force, I could
heal you of it. Since you don't, all I could do is make it even harder for
you to control it."

     Maria stared, then looked down. "Of course," she said.

     "To be frank, Miss Mendez, your case is neither cut nor dry," Nouveau
Skunk said. "It's obvious you weren't operating in a normal state of mind,
and as obvious you were under a program of conditioning as potent as any
brainwashing I've ever heard of. Resisting would be nigh impossible.
Dangerousgirl herself reported on Sensation's powers--"

     Maria snorted. "I didn't *resist*," she said. "After... after we spent
the night together, he made it clear that he'd make me feel good if I helped
and hurt me if I didn't. And... I didn't care. I preferred the pleasure to
the pain but even the pain was better than..." She took a breath. "I
*cooperated.* And the more he rewarded me, the more I cooperated. And so
help me God if he were here right now and he told me to kill all three of
you I would do it in a heartbeat."

     "We know," Trashman said.

     Healer looked somber. "Maria... conditioning techniques work best when
you don't feel like you're being conditioned. You remember cooperating, but
that was after a night of being overstimulated in ways quite frankly none of
us can imagine. I've been your teacher for some time. I hope I've been your
friend, too. And the woman I've gotten to know wouldn't do the things you
did."

     "Then maybe you don't know me."

     "Maybe we don't," Trashman said. "And you're right about one thing.
Whether or not you were conditioned, you made *choices*, Maria. Even at the
end, you only turned on Random Encounters because Sensation was killed--"

     Maria winced, looking away. *Dead... and with him any hope of--*

     Trashman paused, then continued. "You made choices. And they do have
consequences. Serious ones. And you are clearly a danger. To others, and to
yourself. We're not going to pretend otherwise."

     "The question," Nouveau Skunk said, picking up the thread, "is whether
or not your choices meet the criteria of criminal acts. You were undoubtedly
under mental coercion. Was it enough to explain your choices?"

     "Ask Healer," Maria muttered. "She could answer that much, at least."

     "Not in a legal sense," Healer said. "Even if the answer were clear to
me -- which it probably wouldn't be. It's nowhere near easy to work out
motivation even when you can examine a psyche directly. In the end... it's
about our judgement."

     "If I were your defense counsel," Nouveau Skunk said, "I would
absolutely be driving for acquittal. I think there is unquestionable
'reasonable doubt' surrounding your actions. And if you do go to trial, I'm
likely to *be* your defense counsel."

     "I can't afford you," Maria said. "All my money came from Burt."

     "I'd work pro bono. It's important that you know that. And even if you
elected to plead guilty, I'd move to strike your plea on mental health
grounds. Would it work? I've no idea."

     "He's right," Trashman said. He was still cool. Clearly he wasn't here
to be 'good cop.' "If you go to trial, there's an excellent chance you would
be acquitted, or at the very least remanded to mental health services. But
it would still be on your record, and no matter how 'unquestionable' Skunk's
'reasonable doubt' is, whether or not a jury agreed is far from certain."

     "We've been talking with officials," Healer said. "With authorities and
experts, with Academy personnel, and with... your former teammates."

     Maria closed her eyes. There it was. She knew it, of course, but there
was that confirmation. Maria Mendez. Mirror Maid. Reflective Lass. Reflects.
Member of the Teen Team, of Mason's Mazin' Mob... and now of nothing at all.

     Healer let Maria absorb the impact of her words. "Frankly... we all
agree on one thing, Maria. We all agree that it doesn't serve the needs of
justice or of your former teammates and the crimes committed against them
for you to be thrown in the Really-Really-Hard-To-Get-Out-Of-Place. You did
some terrible things. But you also had terrible things done *to* you. You're
a victim too."

     Maria snorted. "Not hardly. I'd think you two--" Nouveau Skunk didn't
count for these purposes "--would understand better than most. When I fought
Dangerousgirl I was *trying* to kill her. And I *loved it*. I wanted her to
*die*."

     Trashman continued to look at Maria -- that piercing gaze... those
scary eyes. "Interesting," he said, softly. "I could say the exact same
thing, only about Dangerous*man*. It's... oddly satisfying to smack that
smug overconfident look off their nuclear powered faces, isn't it?"

     Maria blinked, looking shocked. Healer and Nouveau Skunk looked equally
surprised.

     "Isn't it?" Trashman asked, quietly.

     "...yes," she said. "God, I did so much to the people I love most in
the world..." her voice broke. "But driving into Dani with all my strength
and power... I *loved* it."

     "Yes, you did," Trashman said. "And I loved punching Dangerousman. But
I wouldn't have done it had I not been under mental duress, my usual
restraint suppressed. And when I was confronted by Dangerousgirl's wife, and
I told her that... she reminded me that Dangerousman himself had spent his
life being conditioned into seeing the world in terms of goals and
acceptable losses." Trashman cocked his head slightly, still looking at her.
"He's gotten better, and so have I. If you want so badly to go to prison,
I'm sure you could talk your way into it. Getting better instead... would be
harder. More painful. And it would mean being confronted with former
friends, teammates, and loved ones. And don't kid yourself... even if
Nobody, Melody, Momentum, Mighty Dog, Hellfire, Mental, Phobos, Dreamweaver,
Mime Man, and Summer all agreed that you deserved a chance to better
yourself... even if they all agree that you were under mental coercion...
most of them *hate* you. And what we're offering will mean *seeing* that,
day in and day out. And the other Academy students aren't feeling very
charitable about you either."

     Maria stared for a moment, then looked at Healer. "The Academy?"

     "We would be bringing you in under similar conditions as Momentum,"
Healer said. "Albeit with greater restrictions, at least at first. Assuming
the courts agree, but they're likely to do so, given the Mob's assent. And
Trashman's right. There'd be no hiding from what happened. But that also
means having the chance to make it right. For yourself and for them."

     "Miss Mendez," Nouveau Skunk said, "I believe quite firmly that you can
be a great, great hero. I believe that with Healer's teaching and counseling
and therapy -- and oh yes, you would be going into therapy as part of this
-- you can get past this and end up stronger than you were before. But the
process? Will *suck*."

     "It's not fair to the others," Maria said. "They shouldn't... they
shouldn't have to see me..."

  *   ⸘"Don't flatter yourself, Mendez."‽*

     Maria jumped, her leg hitting the floor directly which caused her to
skid to the side frictionlessly, until she bounced off the bed she hadn't
used. Healer and Nouveau Skunk looked surprised, too. Trashman was the only
one to not look away from Maria.

     Maria stared at the woman in the black robes and hooded cloak. The
woman who had been one of her best friends in the world for years and years
-- who'd always been on her side, who'd always been close, and
compassionate, and warm.

     Maria didn't see any of that, now. "Samantha," she choked out.

    * ⸘"Dreamweaver,"‽ *Dreamweaver said, firmly. *⸘"Don't fool yourself,
Ms.*
*Mendez. You're not on a first name basis with any of us. Not any more. And*
*before you feel too much relief that I'm here, bear in mind I'm 'here'*
*because Mental is helping me perceive things and I'm casting an illusion
of*
*myself down there. I'm in a hospital bed. They had to drive a tube through*
*my throat to save my life. My life, and the lives of my children. We're
not*
*forgiving you for that, Ms. Mendez. Not by a long shot."‽*

     "That's... that's why I shouldn't--"

     *⸘"Shouldn't what? Force us to see you? See the reminder of what*
*happened to us? You'd like that. It'd be easy. You'd be able to avoid us.*
*Well... except maybe in your dreams."‽* Dreamweaver's chin went up. *⸘"You*
*don't get off that easily. We all agreed you should have this chance. If
any*
*of us had said no, then they wouldn't be offering you this path. That*
*doesn't mean any of us forgive you. That doesn't mean all of us... or any
of*
*us... ever will. No, you get to see us. You get to be reminded of your*
*choices, and what they did to us. You get to have the reminder, day in and*
*day out, of everything you had and lost."‽ *She paused again. *⸘"And
maybe,*
*just maybe, you get to make up for some of it. It's your choice. But don't*
*you dare use us as a convenient excuse for why you won't try. You don't
get*
*that easy out."‽ *She rose into the air. *⸘"Do it or don't. It's your
choice,*
*not ours. Sleep tight."‽*

     And then Dreamweaver was gone.

     Healer took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she said. "That was
inappropriate--"

     "No it wasn't," Trashman said. "I knew they were doing it. Mental was
seeing through my eyes."

     Healer blinked. "What?"

     "There probably won't be a Mob any more. We know that--"

     Maria blinked. Oh no. **Oh no*.*

     "--but for now there is, and they haven't formally removed her from it.
For this one last moment, she was still a Mobster, and they had both a right
and a responsibility to see how she was being treated and what she was being
offered." He paused. "And I have been informed that they have now made a
decision, and Miss Mendez has officially been expelled from Mason's Mazin'
Mob, with prejudice. And Mental has dropped his connection to me following
that."

     Healer was still staring at Trashman. She then looked back. "Well," she
said. "That being said--"

     Maria looked down. "I don't... they fired me. I deserved it. But I
don't have to do what they say."

     "No, you don't," Nouveau Skunk said. "And even if you were acquitted or
remanded to other mental health services, you wouldn't need to serve any of
that here."

     Maria nodded. "I'll do it," she whispered. "I agree."

     Trashman nodded. "I figured you would."

     "You should think it over," Healer said. "You're going to be held
until
we can have that court date, but I'll be down to work with you."

     "And I'll go over your options with you," Nouveau Skunk said. "All of
them. And if you want a public defender as well, we'll have one brought in."

     Maria nodded. "Okay."

     "I'll be back later," Healer said.

     "Sure."

     Maria watched them go. She closed her eyes. They mentioned Melody in
the list of Mobsters. Was she-- were they... no, they said they were
breaking up...

     Maria's eyes opened. Wait. There was a name they *didn't* mention.

     "JOEL?" she half-whispered.

     «Yeah, Miss Mendez?» the Xolchaintellect responded. He'd been more
formal with her since she was first confined than she'd ever heard him be
with anyone.

     "How's..." she swallowed. "How's Jenny?"

     There was no reason JOEL should ever need to pause -- he thought so
much faster than human brains could, after all... but pause he did.

     «I'm afraid that information is confidential,» he answered. «Do you
need anything, Miss Mendez?»

     "...no. No I don't."


                               * ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤ ¤¤¤*

*                              Thursday Morning*
*                                 (Eastern)*
*                               Palm Beach, FL*



     Inside a studio, inside a building, a man spoke into a microphone. He
was recovering from accidental injuries, and he was speaking on political
topics. More than one caller into the show said he sounded clearer and more
focused than he had in some time, which confused him slightly though he
thanked them.

     On the roof of a studio, a man in armor, a cape, and a mask was looking
down, seeing through the roof to where the man was talking.

     There was a rush of air. The Masked Bruce looked up, accelerating his
speed and perceptions.

     "Hey there," the Dash said. She was his friend, his teammate, and his
girlfriend, not necessarily in that order. He was one of the very few who
could understand her, whether she was at full speed or not. He was one of
only two people who could talk with her normally without her needing to take
special care. "Watching him?"

     "Watching him," the Masked Bruce confirmed, looking back down. He
created an image so the Dash could as well, though of course at their speed
he looked immobile.

     "It doesn't seem fair -- him just... going back to his life."

     "He didn't," the Masked Bruce said. "I've confirmed it. He has
literally had every trace of 'Random Encounters' wiped away. All his occult
knowledge. All the Mob's secrets. All his obsessions. The man who nearly
killed them is gone. He's now effectively the man who would have existed
without that terrible past. For all intents and purposes, Random Encounters
was executed."

     The Dash shivered. "I'm not sure that's better. So he's not..."

     "Evil?" the Masked Bruce shrugged. "He's a blowhard, and he's got
opinions. I don't like some of them. Is he evil? Ask a priest. But the
objectively evil force that tormented the Mob is just *gone.* And there's no
reason anyone will ask any questions -- since his public life is going on as
per normal."

     "That's... a pretty dense ethical minefield for us to be walking in,"
the Dash said.

     "Is it?" The Masked Bruce looked at his hand, which was glowing golden
with the Oanthet's power. "Would it be better if he'd been executed? Or if
he'd told the world the Mob's secrets?"

     "Does that justify what was done to him?"

     "I'm less worried about him. But he's not suffering. If anything, he's
happier now than he was before. 'Random Encounters' was pretty miserable all
the time. Healer was right about how the dark power he studied had corrupted
him."

     The Dash watched the Masked Bruce for a long moment. "So you're a
telepath, now?"

     "Mm? Oh, yeah. Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition, right?"

     "Sure." She touched his arm. "What are you thinking about?"

     "Just... one little change was made, Jane. Healer reached out and made
one little change, and now the Mob is safe, and the evil is destroyed
forever, and even he's happier and more content." He looked at the glow
coming off his hand. "You say it's an ethical minefield, but who loses out
because of this?"

     "Arguably, Random Encounters."

     "A monstrous creature influenced by fel arcane knowledge who spent
years trying and in a couple cases succeeding at killing teenagers. I'm not
seeing the downside."

     "I don't... I'm not saying there is one. But it's still... we're not
Gods. Not you, or me, or Healer. And this... makes me nervous."

     The Masked Bruce nodded, then frowned.

     "What?"

     "Something you said." He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm just... what
would it mean to the world if we could wipe out evil -- not just beat it
back, but eliminate it at the root, without having to take lives?"

     "I don't know if anyone should ever have that kind of power, Mike."

     "Yeah. Yeah, you're right."

     "Anyway -- I've got to get to Europe. There's six hundred and nine
different tasks on my task list--"

     "Yeah. Go. I'll cook dinner." He grinned.

     Jane smiled, and with a rush of speed she was gone.

     The Masked Bruce let speed move back to normal, and looked at the man
once more. "But if you already *have* that kind of power..."

     He looked at his glowing hand once more. He would have to think about
this.


[End of Part E. Part F follows.]
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