With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

Nobody Move, part 21

19th February 2009
21:12 GMT -5

Intellectually, I knew something like this was the most likely result. Still, even... I can't help but stare at the television screen in horrified fascination as the news breaks that Mr Stillwell has decided to break his silence on events behind the total implosion of Vought-American's superhuman development program.

"…seems crystal-clear: his identifying Vought-American Senior Executive Jessica Bradley as being responsible for the breakdown in control…"

And he's decided to drop Ms Bradley in it.

"Why do you keep watching this?"

Charlotte -bless her heart- tightens the arm she's put around my waist, pulling me a little closer. I'm watching events unfold on television in my bedroom as she doesn't want me watching this where the children might see it. But she also doesn't want me watching it on my own, so: here she is.

In my dreams, I still-.

The children are better than they were, but there are things they do not need to be reminded about. We've pretty much had to shut them inside since November, public.. hatred for Vought-American in general and superheroes in particular meant that they risked being shouted at or outright assaulted on the streets. The only reason that reporters stopped camping outside our house is that I -as just about the only superhero who actually manages to fulfil the description of the role- asked them not to. Empty enough children's wards and you.. rather end up in your own category.

I still remember begging John to stop, the blood of the White House staffers he'd killed completely coating his uniform. And I was right. He actually.. wasn't as bad as he thought he was.

Fat lot of good that fact.. did… Anyone.

"We need to know what's happening. Vought-American will send someone to talk to us eventually."

"…Bradley, he said, sadly chose to ignore his advice and pursue…"

"Should we even talk to them?"

"I-. I don't know."

The fact is, Vought-American pay for everything around here. I've got enough money that buying a house large enough for everyone wouldn't be a great strain, and… Well, my own earnings haven't dipped all that much. But actually.. being superheroes, that's not something I'm sure I know how to make work. The children are more confident in their own abilities now, but a good deal of their self-esteem comes from the positive reactions they used to get from people who live in the area. Even excluding the worst of the hostility, that's… Gone.

"No, we.. should. We shouldn't make decisions without hearing all of the options." I tilt my head to the side, briefly resting it against hers. Then I rise to my feet, calling my staff over to me and catching it in my left hand. "But, now I'm.. afraid that I have work to do."

"The hospital said-."

I shake my head. "Not the hospital."

Because 'compassion' doesn't just mean 'being nice to nice people', it doesn't just mean 'for the deserving'. It has to, has to, mean everyone.

I open a portal and step through, into Ms Bradley's hotel room. The television… The remote control is embedded in the screen, and clumps of hair litter the floor in front of it. There's blood, and for a moment I worry that I'm too late. But… No, there isn't enough. She.. literally tore her hair out of her scalp.

"Ms Bradley?"

I hear a quiet despair-filled chuckle as she staggers in from the bathroom. I-. Ah yes, a certain amount of damage has been done to the minibar. She looks… Well, a fright. There's vomit on her chest and on her right sleeve, her usually immaculate hair has been savaged and there are small cuts on her face where she appears to have clawed herself.

"What do you want?" She blinks. "Or did they send you to put me out of their misery? I didn't think they did that-"

I solemnly shake my head. "Nothing like that."

"-to executives, but leave it to James to cover all the bases."

"Would you like me to clean you up? You appear to be in a somewhat distressed state."

"OhFUCKYOU!"

She opens a medicine bottle and swallows-. Ah, yes, I was worried she might do something like that. Swallows more high-strength painkillers than is entirely healthy, especially when combined with the alcohol which she has already consumed.

"I… Sympathise-."

"Oh, of course you do. You can't not!"

"And if you're really set on killing yourself, I won't stop you."

There's a slight.. flinch, but yes, she's decided. Extreme risk-taking at least. There's no gun… What's the best way to-? The Derren Brown approach? Hm, might work. But what angle-?

Ah.

"And then, once you've passed on, I will fuck your corpse."

She jerks, the pill bottle falling from her hand, its contents spilling out across the floor.

"WHAT?"

"Oh, don't worry, I'll clean it up before anyone sees it. In fact, I can fix up everything. You'll leave a beautiful corpse." I pause for effect. "For me to have sex with."

"You came here to rape me?!"

"No, of course not. You can't rape a corpse." I pause again. "In this state. It's a completely different criminal offence."

She stares at me in horror.

"I'm.. really not clear what the problem is. You'll be dead, so you won't actually experience anything. Your legacy won't be tainted further because I'll perform a full cleanup-. Actually, is there anywhere you particularly want your corpse found? I was planning on fucking it in a number of locations anyway, so it's really no extra effort for me to take it somewhere else once I'm spent. Your apartment?"

She's still staring at me in horror.

"Or if you have a preferred mortician or.. undertaker?"

She manages to blink. "Whhhhhhhhrrr-?"

"Or a hospital for organ donation? The alcohol and painkillers might cause some damage, but your heart and lungs are in excellent-."

"Stop! Stop, just fucking-" She holds up her broken-nailed hands in a warding gesture. "-stop." Her shoulders shudder, and she's… Crying. "I-I can't I can't I can't-."

I sigh, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around her. She.. half-heartedly resists for a moment before latching on and pressing her dried-vomit coated face into my chest. "Ms Bradley, I… Don't need to tell you that you are in a great deal of difficulty." Ring, neutralise those painkillers. "But this is survivable. It is quite likely that you will be going to prison. Certainly, you will never work in your preferred field again. But there are still things you can do with your life, things that will be interesting to you and valuable to the community at large. I would suggest making a completely clean breast of things to the Senate committee at the earliest opportunity, and instructing a lawyer who can act in your defence. If Mr Stillwell has fucked you anyway, there's really no reason not to fuck him right back."

Being compassionate doesn't mean that I believe that reasonable and proportionate chastisement is unjust.

"Ultimately, the only one who can decide what you're going to do is you. If you really want to kill yourself, I will not prevent you. But please believe me when I say that where there's life, there's hope."

She appears to be going somewhat limp. I run a wave of indigo light over her, removing the vomit and mending her wounds, before picking her up and laying her on the room's bed. I linger for a moment, leaning over her and smiling kindly.

"And where there's death, there's me fucking your corpse. So… Think about it."