Death is but a Momentary Relief [Worm Crossover]

The Christmasbringer, a Momentary Relief Christmas Special

‘Twas the day before Christmas and all through the Bay
The people were scurrying around in dismay.
The painful sound of Endbringer alarms did blare
Signifying soon at least one would be there.

“Not in Brockton Bay, of course,” the heroes assured
“But in the Middle East, Jerusalem, eastward.”
“It is the Simurgh,” said Dragon, “the mean old Ziz.”
“We’ll have to fight her,” said Armsmaster. “Wherever she is.”

The Simurgh descended and prepared to attack
When something ran into her with a smack and crack.
Confused at this, into the future she did peer
And saw a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer.

And a jolly old driver all dressed up in red
With a fluffy white beard and a cap on his head.
“Now Ziz you’ve been naughty,” said old Santa Claus.
“Attacking these towns with nary a pause.”

And the Simurgh did ponder what response she should bring
She pondered and pondered and then began to sing.
Her song assaulted Santa’s ears, his mind and his brain
As something within him burbled, ne’er to be the same

In Brockton Bay, the heroes began to gather
The villains did too, for the truce of the matter.
There were Nazis, Merchants, and the ABB too
New Wave, and the Wards, and the friends of the Coon

Everyone had gathered, from the best to the least
They had gathered with courage to fight the beast.
The teleporters took them from the Bay with care
To Jerusalem swiftly, to join the fight there.

“Are you ready?” asked the Coon, his claws sharply ground.
“Against Ziz?” Toolshed asked. “Fuck no, we’ll never be found.”
“We have to fight,” said the Human Kite. “We have the power.”
“It’s an Endbringer, dude,” said Toolshed. “We’ll die in an hour.”

“You’ll all survive,” said their friend, the girl in the hood.
“None of you will die today, is that understood?”
She smiled at her friends, helpful in their hour of need
Along came the teleporter, to do the deed.

All five of them, together, swept into the night
Mysterion, the Coon, Toolshed, and Human Kite
Their fifth friend had joined as well, the Douchebag King
Got ready to fight, an Endbringer’s end to bring.

In Jerusalem they landed, on the edge of the city
And the Coon became livid at the sight. “Those Goddamn hippies!”
“What hippies?” asked the Human Kite, aghast at the news.
“This is Jerusalem, you fatass, the home of the Jews!”

“And those are capes, Cart—Coon, you knew that or you should.”
Said the girl in the question mark covered dark hood.
“Now shut up and listen,” she said as a mecha suit got close
And handed out armbands to them, the mood somber and morose.

“You five are young, guy,” said Dragon, the Canadian tinker.
“Not too young,” said Mysterion to the suit’s speaker.
“Young enough,” said Dragon. “But put on the band.
“It will tell you when to leave and when you can stand.”

Mysterion nodded and looked into the night.
Down onto the city and Ziz, God, what a sight.
The Endbringer had been building something wrought quick
And she seemed to use the expertise of Saint Nick.

“That’s Santa down there,” said the girl in the hood.
“Ziz had to have taken him. Oh, that is not good.”
Legend cleared his throat as he prepared his speech.
“I want you to look around at all of you, each.”

“Half will die, it’s unavoidable,” said the rainbow cape.
“You chose this Endbringer fight, there is no escape.
“Worse still, this is Ziz; you should think about her scream.
“When you get close, you’ll see what I mean.”

“The bands will tell you all when too much time has passed.
Legend looked at each of them. “It goes far too fast.”
“Do retreat back to safety when the warning comes.
“The Ziz bombs are dangerous, don’t become those ones”

As quick as it had begun, Legend’s speech did end
And per the truce, heroes and villains were like friends.
The capes assembled, gathered for the fight
Ready to maybe die on this Christmas Eve night.

The Movers and Blasters and Strangers and Thinkers
Did gather with the Strikers, Brutes and Tinkers.
The Masters and Changers, Trumps and Breakers
Prepared alongside the best of the Shakers.

The whole while they prepared, the Simurgh did too
She had finished her working, complete in full view
A massive circle, with chevrons and a plate
“No way,” said the Kite. “Not a Stargate?”

“That’s just crazy,” said Mysterion. “What’s her plan?”
“You don’t think—” Toolshed paused. “Imaginationland?”
“Whatever it is, we need to stop it right quick.”
Said the Coon as he tapped his nails with a click.

On Eidolon’s cue, the capes began their attack
In the hopes that they might drive ol’ Ziz back
They fired masers and lasers and giant ray guns
They used javelins and crossbows and rocks that weighed tons.

But all were stopped mid-air by some sort of field
Had the thing Ziz built been just a simple shield?
“No, too simple”, the capes collectively thought
“It has to be more than protection from being shot.”

And then at the base of the Simurgh’s creation
Stood St. Nicholas, singing like on vacation
The tinkertech rumbled and the ground joined in
Before opening a portal as the ring began to spin

“What could be coming?” asked a cape of the girl in the hood.
“If that goes where I think it does,” she said. “Definitely not good.”
“It’s not like that place is all bad,” said the Human Kite.
“But the last time we went there, there was a huge fight.”

Then out of the portal came the Simurgh’s surprise
Seven woodland animals with clothes and bright eyes.


They were Beary the bear, and Deery the deer
Chipmunky the chipmunk’s face was lit up with cheer.
Beavery the beaver and Foxy the fox as well
Were joined by Mousy the mouse and Squirrely the squirrel.

“Fuck,” said Toolshed with worry. “I was afraid of that.”
He pushed a button his armband. “Kill the animals in hats.”
He turned to the Coon and said, “They’re all your fault.”
“You guys,” said the Coon. “Stop with the salt.”

“Worry about that later,” Mysterion said.
“We have some critters to put to bed.”
Then off they dashed, ready to join the teams
Unfortunately it wasn’t long before hearing the screams.

The Simurgh’s scream was loudest of all
Unable to be silenced like an errant phone call
But the screams of the capes became louder too
As the critters attacked like some satanic zoo

“Hail Satan!” cried the hoarse voice of Beary the bear
As he used his powers to swat capes from the air.
“Now come on, y’all, time to play nice.”
Said Foxy the fox as he rolled heads like dice.

Over the armbands the announcements came
Of deaths, of downings, of each dead cape’s name
Maximus and Fargus, Lister and Heave deceased
Boxer and Sere’do’well, as well as the Rose Beast

So many dead in a flash, with not much to do
Coon Friends needed someone to save them all, but who?
WIth the wind at his back and his lasers in flight
An idea formed in the mind of Human Kite.

“Stay here my friends, I know just what to do.”
And the Kite went off in the search of some poo.
Not just any poo, of course, the right kind too
Combined with belief, he would come right to you.

Now you dear reader need to believe as well
For belief in this is not just something you smell
With Ziz and the Critters endangering us all
No belief is too strong, no poo is too small.

The Kite found the poo and you have found your belief
Which will soon bring the capes and all of us relief
With a bit of crunch and the faint hint of dough
Mister Hanky, the Christmas Poo awoke with a “Howdy-Ho!”

“Now gosh,” said the poo as he gazed upon the fight.
“It’s Christmas today and they’re ruining this night.”
And swiftly the Christmas Poo jumped into the fray
Arming each cape and marking each critter to be blown away

And Ziz snagged the Poo from the air with her mind
And tried to convert him to her side only to find
That a mind made of Poo was nothing to smear
And it was then that the Endbringer began to feel fear.

For this was Christmas, she reasoned, a time for love
And she simply expressed it as death from above
But perhaps, she pondered, there was much more to know
As she stared at the Poo and he greeted her with “Howdy-Ho!”

And then, it is said, she experienced dismay
As her heart, like the Grinch’s, grew three sizes that day
She threw down the Poo instantly with a cry
And her scream did waver and the Critters started to die

Then into the air, Ziz shot like a light
No more to darken this Christmas Eve Night
But the Endbringer left one last Christmas surprise
As Ziz’s working collapsed before the capes’ eyes.

It started out small, but then started to grow
As the battlefield became covered in pure white snow
And up in the sky, there was a light not too far
Where Ziz had flown off to shone a bright Christmas Star.

And Santa climbed into his sleigh, grabbing his sack
With the Poo at his side, assuring everyone he was back
“On Steven, on Fluffy, on Horris and Chantel,
“On Skippy, on Rainbow, on Patches, and Montel!”

“Santa thanks you all for helping to save him this night,
You saved Christmas by fighting this fight
Now go back home and off to the mall
Dash away, dash away, dash away all!”

Away he flew until he was out of sight
And the fight was concluded this Christmas Eve night

And… Kyle died of AIDS three weeks later.

“God damnit Cartman,” Kyle yelled. “I stayed quiet this time, and again you killed me off?”

“What? You’re a Jew! You don’t even celebrate Christmas! What the hell are you even doing here?” asked Eric. “Besides, you’re the hero this time! Come on, the Human Kite is the one who got Mister Hanky!”

“Howdy-Ho, Eric!” said the Poo from his perch on the teacher’s desk. “Gosh, that was a swell story, but didn’t it end too quickly?”

A muffled sound that vaguely sounded like “and the deaths weren’t reported well,” came from Taylor’s direction. Her orange hood was up tight this morning.

“Yeah, Taylor’s right, fat boy,” Emma said. “You needed more oomph. More impact.”

“Fuck you, ginger bitch,” Eric said. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to write one of these things? I’d like to see you do better!”

“Fine! I will!” Emma stood up, and then the bell rang, signifying the end of class.

“Oh, I’m sorry Children, but that’s all the time we have for today. Have a good Christmas break, everyone,” said their fifth grade teacher, Mrs. Knowstoolittle.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, you don’t get to tell your story,” Eric sing-songed as he walked past Emma. “You’re an ugly ginger b—”

Emma kicked him in the crotch, and immediately, he started to cry.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the class, the New Kid watched silently as they all began to leave.

“It’s like I told you,” said a deep voice. “They never cared about you. You had been their King, and now you’re nothing. But we can change that. Oh, yes we can…”

 

As a Christmas gift, here is a recording of me reading the poem, unedited audio.

https://soundcloud.com/ellf-829734281/the-christmasbringer

 

Chapter Eight: Favors Owed Part Two


"God damnit, that shit was a pain in the ass," Eric said as he took off his mask. His frustration was palpable as he threw the mask onto the table in our newly acquired headquarters in what had once been the Merchant hangout. We'd spent the past week and a half cleaning it up, making it livable, along with setting up some tech and such to help us monitor situations in the city. The one thing we didn't do, however, was let Eric name the headquarters.

No matter how much he wanted to call it the Coon Lair, it wasn't going to stick. We were not going to register with the PRT as "Coon and Friends."

"We stopped the robbery," Kyle said as he took his own mask off. "I'm pretty sure they didn't expect us to be the ones to show up. That girl in purple pretty much confirmed it."

"Yeah, but they got away," Eric said. "We're heroes, we don't let that shit fly. Giant fucking dogs or no. And what the shit was that with the clown person? Taylor, were you actually flirting with… whatever the fuck that was?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "One. Circus flirted with me, not the other way around. They were trying to catch me off-balance. It didn't work."

Not for lack of trying though. Circus had a very tight costume and was presenting en femme that evening. It wouldn't have been hard for them to distract one of my boys, but they seemed to take me as a challenge. Mysterion was supposed to be unflappable and asexual in how she handled things, but the me under the costume was only the former. Circus looked good, and they knew it. Somehow they knew that they were getting to me too. I was pretty sure that if they had gone masculine, they'd probably hit one of my attraction buttons too.

"I saw the way you were looking at… fuck, I don't even know what to call the clown. Circus? Circus fucking works," Eric said. "Because the fucker looks like he… she… whatever belongs in a circus. Kept fucking dodging everything. Then there was the Ren Faire fucker. He tripped me up so much."

"We still stopped the robbery, Cartman," Stan said as he pulled off his goggles. "Yeah, the Undersiders got away, but who gives a crap? It's not like they're really all that bad, as far as villains go."

"But Stan, Circus was…"

"Stop, Eric," I said. "It doesn't matter what Circus was trying to do. Yes, it sucks that we couldn't catch them, but there's always next time."

"I don't even know what the fuck to call Circus," Eric said. "Man? Woman? Circus is different every time we fight it."

"Them. Eric. Seriously," I said. They might have been a villain, but there was some sort of respect that was needed. We were heroes after all. "If you don't know what pronouns to use, use them."

"What do you expect from the guy who literally pretended to be trans so he could use the girl's bathroom in Elementary School?" Kyle asked. "Yes, Cartman's grown up, but seriously dude, you'd think that you'd understand a bit more about that sort of thing."

"Shut up, Kyle," Eric said sharply. "I do know, but Circus is a villain, damnit. Do I really have to be fucking respectful to a fucking villain? I mean, come on, Stan literally just called one of them Bitch."

"That's her cape name, dumbass," Stan said. "The Undersiders. Tattletale, Bitch, Regent, Grue, and Circus. Though I think Circus is more of a freelancer than a full-time team member."

"They are," I said. "We've crossed paths a couple times. They're really just a cat burglar. Not usually worth going after. Look at it this way. The Casino owes us because we stopped the robbery. While it wasn't exactly run by any of the gangs, I'm pretty sure that a couple do get their cut of the profits. Maybe we can work on getting them to flip on them."

"Maybe," Stan said. "You sure the flirting didn't work, dude? Circus was coming at you pretty hard with that."

I smirked as I removed my own mask. "Well… I won't say that they did nothing, but it didn't work at keeping me distracted more than you guys were by Grue's darkness."

"I'll get a counter to that ready for the next time," Stan said. "We don't know enough about them, just that Tattletale took a look at you and wanted to be gone."

I snorted. I wouldn't be surprised if she'd been the one to give Circus the idea to come after me.

A buzzing noise drew my attention to Stan's side, followed by another at Kyle's. They each pulled out their phones and got simultaneous exasperated looks on their faces.

"What is it?" Eric asked. "It's not more shit from Circus, is it? That… let's go with asshole better not be trying more shit."

"It's their civilian phones, dude," I said.

"Oh. Wait. Don't tell me that we've got shit from Kyle's mom," Eric said. "Because that bitch really grinds my nerves."

"Don't call my mom a bitch, fatso," Kyle said.

"I am not fat," Eric said. "This is almost all muscle. And I'm big boned."

"It's not his mom anyway," Stan said. "Our dads are asking if we want to go on a trip. Apparently there's something going on with Bad Canary's trial, and they're asking if we want to watch."

I narrowed my eyes. I really didn't like what I knew about that situation anyway. Something stank to high heaven about how things were being handled. Paige McAbee was being blamed for something her ex-boyfriend had done to himself, but I wasn't entirely sure that master powers worked like that. Or at least hers worked like that. I'd been to a Bad Canary show or two when I was younger, back during her first tour, and I never felt like she was really telling me to do anything. I mean, yes, I'd been trampled in the audience once, and a stage light fell on me another time, and… wait, I thought that the first time I'd died had been in the car with my mother.

Had I died more than that? Fuck.

Still, if Canary was getting railroaded, perhaps there was something we could do. "We should go."

"What?" Eric asked.

"To the trial," I said. "We might have to ditch school, but who gives a shit about that? We can ride with Mister Marsh and Mister Broflovski. Mrs. Broflovski probably won't be going, and we can make sure the trial is fair."

"How would we be doing that?" Kyle asked.

"By standing for justice," I said. "Maybe she deserves something for what happened to the guy that got hurt, but I don't think she deserves to have the book thrown at her."

"What about the Undersiders?" Eric asked.

"They probably won't do anything until after we get back," I said. "And if they do, let them. If they want to steal from villains, no skin off my back. The Casino seemed more a crime of opportunity."

Eric shrugged. "Fine. Stan, Kyle, let your parents know we're in."

"Already done, fatass," Kyle said. "We get to meet them in fifteen minutes. Taylor, did you clear it with Danny?"

I shook my head. "Dad's out of town for work anyway. No need."

"And I'll call my mom on the way," Eric said. "I really don't want to know what she's doing. She deserves some time off though. As long as we can get some KFC on the way to the trial."

I rolled my eyes. "You're paying for your own shit."

"Duh, it's my food. I can cover you too, Taylor." He smiled at me, and I shook my head. "I'm just looking out for my friends. It's what I do."

"So, you'll pay for us too?" Kyle asked.

"Shut up, Jew, I wasn't talking to you," Eric said sharply. "God. You'd love for me to spend my money on you, when you can cover your own stuff."

I rolled my eyes and left them arguing while I went to get my normal clothes on. I knew my boys liked each other well enough, even if Eric had his issues. He wasn't always antisemitic. Some of that was specifically to mess with Kyle rather than actual vitriol. The issue was that sometimes I wondered if it wasn't for us, would Eric be joining the Empire? They clearly had capes and he sometimes fit their mold. But there were times where he would actively defend Kyle. I really didn't know.

Maybe it was related to how we got our powers in the first place. Cluster triggers weren't exactly common, and the literature out there was scarce. I'd have to see if Victoria knew more than the last time she and I spoke when we got back to town. Assuming that I didn't manage to tick her mother off, anyway. I swear, flirt with a girl one time in front of her mother…

I don't actually think Carol Dallon is homophobic. I just think that I somehow reminded her of her trigger, and she reacted violently.

It wasn't long before the four of us were waiting at the rendezvous point for Stan and Kyle's dads. It was a little chilly out, so we each wore our normal outfits, except my hood was down. Each of us had our duffel bags, and when Gerald Broflovski pulled up in their extra long SUV, we each piled in the back. Stan's Dad, Randy, was sitting in the passenger seat of the car looking a little upset, but for once he appeared to be completely sober. A stark difference from how I'd seen him a couple weeks ago.

Once we were all piled inside and buckled up, Gerald started on the road. He was dressed in a nice suit, and he still wore his ever-present yarmulke. Mister Marsh, however, was dressed in his normal clothes, a blue plaid collared shirt and jeans. He seemed to be clutching a bag in his lap though.

"Now boys, and Taylor, the reason we're bringing you on this trip is because we thought it would probably be a good idea for you to see this trial." Gerald looked back at us in the mirror. "See how something can be completely mishandled by a public defender and why you should always hire a proper lawyer to defend you if you have the opportunity to. Not that I ever expect any of you to need it."

"You'd better not," Randy said. "Especially you, Stan. I don't ever want you to have to deal with any of this."

"No way, dude," Stan said. "I'm not going to get arrested by anyone."

"What do you mean mishandled?" I asked.

"Oh, this case. It's like someone is really pushing hard for Canary to get convicted," Gerald said. "They're really playing things up for the cameras. Public opinion is not on Canary's side because of how they're presenting her, and the current defense hasn't really done much to contest everything the prosecution's been pushing. It's really a disgrace, like the defense is actually on the side of the prosecution here."

"That's not right. How are you even going to get her to accept you as a lawyer?" Kyle asked.

"A representative from her side has already reached out to me," Gerald said. "I have a recording of her requesting me as her lawyer, and that's good enough to start. Randy and I are going to be meeting with her prior to the court proceedings today."

"Oh yeah. We're meeting with Canary," Stan's dad said. "Just have to finish convincing her that this is the right move."

"How do you intend on winning?" I asked.

"I've got two secret weapons," Gerald said. "One… well, Randy, that's up to you."

"What?" Randy asked. "No. Nononono. I mean, do they really need to see that?'

"Dad," Stan said. "See what? Wait. No. You didn't."

"No, I didn't, Stan," Randy said. "That's the point! Canary didn't! It's bullshit. Canary doesn't even like men!"

"Dad…" Stan said, and then he planted his hand right on his face. "What the fuck?"

Randy shook his head… wait. Since when did he have blonde hair? With feathers in it… with… huh. The person in the passenger seat turned around so that… she could face us. "Stan, I'm sorry, but you know that I could never have told someone to do what that guy did. It wasn't me. And even if it was someone who looks like me, I can't just let her be blamed for something that shouldn't have worked that way. She's not going to the birdcage."

"Holy fuck dude," Eric said with a laugh. "Your dad's a—"

"Finish that sentence, and we will no longer be friends," I said, giving Eric a sharp glare. "His dad is Bad Canary. The real one."

Eric held up his hands, indicating that he wouldn't continue that train of thought. Good. After the rants he was going on about Circus, I really didn't want him to say anything bad about Stan's dad. Who happened to be one of my favorite artists. Great. And she still looked good, but she was Stan's dad.

"I was," she said. "I stopped touring about two years ago. Give or take. But somehow, about six months after I stopped, a new Bad Canary started up. At first I thought it was holograms, like, well, what they did with Tupac and some other singers, but now? I'm not really sure. She's too solid to be a hologram."

"Cape stuff?" I asked.

"Maybe," she said with a nod. "Her powers are similar to mine."

"Wait, wait wait wait," Kyle said, holding up his hands. "How long have you had these powers, Mister Marsh?"

"I'm not Mister Marsh when like this, Kyle," she said. "You can call me Paige. Legally, I'm Paige McAbee. And… I've had these powers for… going on five years now."

"And you knew, Dad?" Kyle asked.

"Well… sort of," Gerald said. "Paige did ask for some help from me a while back, but the one on trial didn't. Chef introduced us back when you were in elementary school. He probably knew about Randy and Paige, but he kept it mum."

"He did," Canary said. "Chef knew pretty much everything, and he even wrote a couple of my original songs."

"I miss Chef," Eric said. "So, can you sing something for us, Bad Canary? Maybe something he wrote?"

"I better not," she said. "Actually, Randy should come back, while we're here."

And then, in a second, he was, and not long after, we were at the courthouse. The two dads ushered us inside, indicating where the gallery we could wait for the trial to start would be. It was a media circus, with people from all sorts of national outlets there. Trial of the century, the master who got someone to chop off their own genitals and literally fuck themselves with it.

Mr. Garrison would be proud.

I watched Randy and Gerald slip off, presumably to go meet with their client. I nudged Eric. "I'm going to check out what's going on behind the scenes. Keep an eye on the others?"

"You sure you'll be okay?" Eric asked.

"I'm stealthier than you," I said. "Tell me you brought your costume."

"Why?" Eric asked.

"Call it a hunch," I said, and I slipped off after the dads.

A key thing to being stealthy is to be where people aren't looking, and one of the powers I'd managed to get in our collection of abilities was an instinctive knowledge of people's perceptions. I wasn't sure exactly which of us that one came from, but it definitely helped with the whole stealth idea. I made my way to the room that Gerald and Randy had slipped into, and, clinging to the ceiling, I followed them in.

Sitting alone in a cell with brute restraints on was a woman who looked a lot like Paige McAbee. Sure, she didn't have any makeup on, and it looked like she'd been crying a lot, but that clearly was someone almost identical. Even right down to the feathers in her hair. She didn't have any sort of translucence or light emittance, indicating a hologram. She was solid.

Recognition settled in her eyes as she looked over Gerald and Randy.

"Can we get the collar off of her?" Gerald asked a guard. "We need to be able to talk."

"She's a master," said the guard below me, posted at the door to the room. "It's a safety precaution."

"I'm a lawyer, and she's going to be my client. I doubt she's going to try and master me," Gerald said. "Besides, she needs to sing to do it. Take it off."

The guard scoffed, and he went forward. He removed the collar, freeing Canary's mouth and neck.

"Now get out of here, my partner and I need some privacy with her," Gerald said.

"I shouldn't," said the guard. "Like I said, she's a master. She could master you."

Randy hummed a few bars of one of Canary's songs. Then, in a more feminine voice, Randy said. "You can leave us. We'll be fine."

"You'll be fine," said the guard, and he stepped out the door. I was half-tempted to follow him, but he had been talking specifically to the guard. She. Canary? Or rather Randy.

Great. Now I was confused.

"You," said the formerly gagged Canary. "What are you doing here? Come to gloat?"

"Where the hell did you come from?" Randy asked, walking over to her. He looked her over. "You look just like… well…"

"Bad Canary? I am! I have been!" Canary said. "You weren't going to be anymore, and since you weren't, I stepped up! They like me more than they like you anyway! Mother told me so."

"Someone created her, Randy," Gerald said. "Whoever this mother person is."

"Yes, Gerald, Mother did," Canary said. "Why are you here?"

"You need legal representation," Gerald said. "And Randy asked."

Canary looked Gerald over, and she sighed. "I didn't think he'd actually do it."

"Who was he, anyway?" Randy asked. "Canary's into women, not men."

"You're into women, Marsh," Canary said. "But he was a mistake. An asshole. He tried to claim that he was responsible for the new tour's success, and… well, he tried to blackmail me. I think he knew I wasn't you."

"So, you told him to go fuck himself," Randy said, nodding. "It's America. You should be able to do things like that. We have free speech."

"I know, right! Fuck, I hate it when you're right," Canary said. "But the trial's almost over. How can a new lawyer coming in now help me?"

"With our secret weapons," Gerald said. "The prosecution knows about me and my co-counsel."

"Marsh?" Canary asked. "Gerald, you can't be serious."

"No. Well, you'll see when the trial starts today. I'm sorry that I have to get these restraints back on you now. Your… twin will probably be making an appearance later as well."

Canary sighed. "What will you want to call me?"

"We'll figure it out," Randy said. "I'm sure Shelley and Sharon will want to see you."

Canary narrowed her eyes. "You're not afraid I'll do something to them?"

"We'll figure it out, little sister," Randy said.

I slipped out of the room with that. So, Bad Canary, the one on trial, was a clone of the real Bad Canary, Randy, and she was the one who got the guy to do what he did. I made my way back to my boys, and together we took our seats.

"What'd you find out?" Kyle asked.

"Your dad's got some secret weapon, and Stan's dad really is who we saw," I said.

"Yeah, I know," Stan said. "Mom knows too, but Shelley doesn't. I still don't know where the new one came from, but she's slightly different from Dad."

"She likes guys, apparently," I said. Not that I was one to judge.

"Yeah," Stan said.

The gallery was told to quiet down as the trial was set to begin. The prosecution took their spots at their table, while Gerald took a spot at his. At his side, he had his briefcase, and he had a wide smile on his face. Guards brought in the clone Canary, once again restrained with the brute-level restraints and the huge neck guard to keep her from talking. Completely over the top restraints if you asked me. Then the judge came in.

"Silence. All rise, please. This court is now in session. The honorable Peter Regan is presiding," said the bailiff.

The judge was an older looking man with spectacles, and he wore the standard judge's robes. When he got to the podium, he sat down, and as everyone else sat down, he held up a hand. "It is a bit unusual for the defense to change counsel so far into the trial, but it was cleared first. Mister Gerald Broflovski, correct?"

"Yes, your honor," Gerald said, standing. "Here to represent Paige McAbee."

"It says here that you have a co-counsel as well," said the judge.

"Well, yes, but he's a little on the unusual side, and I would like permission of the court to allow him in," Gerald said.

"Oh god, your dad didn't bring Mister Hanky, did he?" Eric asked Kyle.

"I don't think so," Kyle said. "Wrong time of year, anyway."

I shook my head.

"I suppose," Judge Regan said, and he gestured with his hand.

Gerald pushed a button on his briefcase, and when it popped open, next to him at the table, a hologram began to form. A short while afterward, a dark-skinned man in a nice suit with an outline of light stood next to Gerald at the defense table. The man looked over Canary and then he turned to the judge.

"If it pleases the court, I would like to introduce my co-counsel, Johnnie Cochran," Gerald said.

"Objection!" called the prosecution. "A hologram can't be legally allowed to practice law."

"I think that you'll find my credentials are in place, mister so-called district attorney," said the hologram of Johnnie Cochran. "I can provide them if necessary, Your Honor."

"No, no," Judge Regan said. "That won't be necessary. Overruled on the objection. It's fine. We're close to closing arguments anyway."

"Thank you, your honor," said Johnnie Cochran's hologram. "My co-counsel and I are ready when the prosecution is."

After giving their assent, the trial began in earnest. Once again, I was reminded that Kyle's dad really was a good lawyer. He re-called some of the witnesses that the defense had called previously, and he asked for further cross-examination of some of the prosecution's witnesses. He went over some evidence, with the help of the hologram. But the real key part of the trial happened during the closing arguments. The prosecution finished making theirs, and now it was time for the defense's. Neither called up the real Bad Canary. For some reason.

Johnnie Cochran stood up, and he approached the Jury box. "Ladies and gentlemen of the so-called jury, my client, Paige McAbee, also known as Bad Canary has allegedly been accused of allegedly causing harm to her ex-boyfriend by telling him to go fuck himself. Which he allegedly did with his own genitalia after cutting it off. Hearing the prosecution's side of the story, it sounds like they're trying to paint my client as what, like the Simurgh? As someone who can tell someone to do anything and everything, and they'll do it? Hell, I almost believed it myself. But look. Ladies and gentlemen of this supposed jury, I have one final thing that I want you to consider."

"No. Fucking. Way." Eric shook his head as Cochran brought up a slide on the overhead projector. Said slide was of an alien humanoid creature that was covered in brown fur. I recognized it from Star Wars.

"Chewbacca defense?" I asked.

"Chewbacca defense," Kyle said with a nod.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Chewbacca. Chewbacca is a Wookie from the planet Kashyyk. But Chewbacca lives on the planet Endor. Now think about that. That does not make sense."

"They're not going to fall for that, are they?" Stan asked as he looked over the jury box. I followed his gaze, and it seemed like Cochran had them enraptured.

"Why would a Wookie, an eight-foot-tall Wookie, want to live on Endor with a bunch of two-foot tall Ewoks? That does not make sense. But more importantly, what you have to ask yourself is what does this have to do with the accusations against my client? Nothing."

The jury looked very confused at this. To be fair, I think that was the point of the whole thing.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it has nothing to do with this case at all. It does not make sense. Look at me, I'm a hologram of a lawyer defending a parahuman musician, and I'm here in my best shiny suit talking about Chewbacca. Does that make any sense? Ladies and gentlemen, I am not making any sense. None of this makes sense, from the restraints, to the swiftness of the trial, to the judge's biases and your own. None of it makes sense. None of it! And so, you have to remember, when you're in that jury room deliberating and conjugating the Emancipation Proclamation or the Vikare Act or whatever, does it make sense? Hell no. Ladies and gentlemen of this so-called jury, it does not make sense! If Chewbacca lives on Endor, you must acquit! The defense rests."

Judge Regan blinked. I think really, the whole courtroom did. I hadn't heard that defense since… Chef. The judge shook his head. "Okay… then. Uh… Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, it will be up to your deliberations n—"

"Not so fast!" The doors to the gallery blew open, revealing a quintet of capes. The one in the center was a tall, muscular blond man, dressed in a teal robe with a silver visor that had a red gem at the center of his forehead. A green cape billowed behind him, and he wore purple gloves. On his left was a red-haired man, slightly shorter than the man in the center. He wore a silver visor that covered his eyes and silver armor with a logo that said GD on it.

To the right of the center was a young woman with flowing brown hair tied in a ponytail. She had a reflective silver full-face mask and a form-hugging silver bodysuit along with her own cape.

The other two were… Uber and Leet, dressed in yellow and purple plumber's outfits. Uber wore a purple one with a hat that had an upside down L on it while Leet wore the yellow one with a W on the hat.

"Before you dare to deliberate, I believe that we have some proper arguments to put forth! Arguments of Chaos!" Professor Chaos cackled. "General Disarray, Lady Mayhem, shall we demonstrate?"

Both on his flank tossed silvered discs into the room, which exploded over the nearby assembled, coating them in what looked like tin foil.

I gestured to my boys. We needed to slip off and change. Then Chaos would get what was coming to him. Uber and Leet too.

"God damnit Butters," Eric said as we started to slip away.