Elliott Kay - Natural Consequences

"This is the case of the United States of America versus Raven Sebastian Winterhome, AKA Sir Julian Storm, AKA Lord Marcus Etienne Ravenscar… birth name Marvin Kowalski," the judge added with a cynical frown. His eyes glanced up from the papers in front of him. "Are you Marvin Kowalski? Or any of these other aliases?"

The chamber bore greater resemblance to a bunker than a courtroom. The furnishings and layout were all present-tables for prosecution and defense, a judge’s bench and witness stand, even an American flag in one corner-but the concrete walls had been left unpainted. Heavy steel doors fit for a naval ship lay closed and locked at either end of the room. The digital clock embedded in the wall noted an hour far too late for any ordinary court proceeding.

The judge sat in black robes at his bench. The prosecutor and defense attorney both wore suits, as did the man and woman in the gallery. Three uniformed bailiffs stood at the ready. All attention fell on the deathly pale, young-looking man with black hair, frosty blue eyes and the bright orange jumpsuit of a prison inmate behind the defense table. Thick chains connected his manacles to a similarly thick bullnose ring imbedded in the floor. He could stand and sit, but not much else.

“Fuck you, chum,” the pale man said. His Cockney accent and defiant tone contrasted sharply with the calm, business-as-usual demeanor of the judge. “This ain’t no real cour’room. Why’nt you tell me wot the fuck you lot ‘re doin’ an’ knock off the fucking charades, eh?”

“Mr. Kowalski,” murmured the suited attorney to his right, “speaking to the judge like that won’t do you any favors.”

“Piss off.”

The judge was unmoved. "I am Judge Eduardo Castillo. Mr. Kowalski, you've been charged in an indictment with the murders of Caroline Morris, Raymond Wong, and Douglas Kramer. You are also charged with three counts of kidnapping, twenty-three counts of aggravated assault, assault on federal agents, resisting arrest, misprision of felonies and tax evasion." He lifted his eyes toward the defendant. "Do you have a copy of the indictment?"

“Fuck yourself wi’ your indictment. Stick it up your crusty arse!” The defendant tugged at his chains, struggling as if he had every reason to believe they might break. “Let me the fuck ou’ of ‘ere! You sacks dunno wot you’re dealin’ with!”

“It’s here, your honor,” said the attorney beside the prisoner.

"Very well. Mr. Kowalski, let me inform you of your constitutional rights. You have the right to remain silent. You don't have to say anything to anyone. Anything you say can and likely will be used against you. Do you understand your right to remain silent?"

“Fuck you. That’s what I understand.”

The defense attorney leaned in and hissed, “Mr. Kowalski, do you understand that this is quite probably a capital case?”

“Oh, piss off, mate! These fuck’ead Feds jus’ jumped me in the parking lot of a fucking ‘otel three hours ago! Even if this is a real court, all o’ this is bollocks an’ they know it! So either quit the fucking farce an’ tell me wot’s goin’ on, or give me my phone call so I can get a real fucking lawyer!”

“Mr. Kowalski, they know what you are .”

Taken aback by the warning, the defendant asked, “Wot?”

“Your fangs are showing,” advised the attorney.

Kowalski’s eyes widened in fear. “There’s no law against that!”

“You’re not on trial for that. Read the indictment.”

Judge Castillo continued. "You also have the right to representation by a lawyer with appropriate security clearances. Counselor Lopez, who holds proper clearance, currently assists you. Do you have a different lawyer with top secret clearance you would like to use?"

"Wait, clearance?" the defendant blinked. "Wot the fuck you talkin’ abou’?”

"Mr. Kowalski, this court operates under top secret Federal orders pursuant to national security. You will make no phone calls. You do not get to pick any old attorney off the Internet. So again, do you currently have on retainer an attorney with top secret clearance? If not, I will appoint Counselor Lopez to continue to represent you. The court will cover all expenses in such a case."

"What the-wait, this is ridiculous!" the defendant spat. "I want a real fucking court with a real fucking lawyer and a real fucking judge! Don't give me this 'top secret' bullshit!"

"Very well," Castillo conceded. "I will remand you to the Federal District Court of Los Angeles. Your arraignment will proceed at 10 am on Tuesday, October the 22nd."

Marvin's bluster ground to a halt. So did his phony accent. "Wait, what?"

“10 am, Tuesday, Los Angeles,” Castillo repeated.

Marvin blinked nervously. "Ten in the morning?" He swallowed, looking to Lopez on his left. "They can do that to me?"

Lopez gave a bit of a nod. "The regular courts run on regular schedules. This is the only court in the nation that accommodates supernatural conditions."

"None of the other courts fucking know about supernatural conditions!"

Again, Lopez nodded. "It's a problem," he sniffed.

Marvin looked from the judge to the lawyer and back again. "Uh, Judge… I think… I think I'll take this court. And, uh, this lawyer."

"Understood. I hereby appoint Michael Lopez to represent you. Is defense counsel prepared to proceed with the arraignment?"

"Yes, your honor," Lopez answered.

"Are you correctly named in the indictment? Would you like me to formally read the indictment into the record?" He took his cues from Lopez's short, quick replies. "How do you plead?"

Lopez glanced at Marvin, who looked back at a complete loss for words. “Your honor, my client pleads not guilty,” Lopez announced.

Castillo's attention turned to the prosecution’s table. "What is the government's position on detention?"

"Your honor, the defendant struggled violently against arrest, assaulting several Federal agents," the prosecutor explained. "His health conditions require the ingestion of warm blood, and he has shown every willingness to commit assault to attain it. He has also demonstrated extraordinary strength, speed and stealth, and is largely unharmed by most weapons carried by police or the general public. It is the government's position that he is a severe flight risk.”

"Very well, Counselor Oswalt," Castillo nodded, "Mr. Kowalski will remain in Federal custody until trial."

“What?!” Marvin burst. “That’s it? That’s my bail hearing?”

“Yeah, they always screw my clients on that one.” Lopez glanced at his watch. “Look, you’ll get two liters of fresh chicken blood every night.”

“Chicken blood?!”

Behind him, the suited man rose and turned for the door. He was a trim man in his early thirties, tall and clean-shaven. He held the door for the younger woman who followed him out while Kowalski unleashed a torrent of worried questions on his attorney.

“That one’s gonna be a slam dunk,” said Agent Paul Keeley.

Agent Amber Maddox was not so comfortable with all this. It showed on her young, pretty face. Her pantsuit did little to show off her athletic figure, but that was how she preferred it in these environments. It was hard enough to be taken seriously when she looked even younger than she really was. Waiters and bartenders routinely double-checked her driver’s license. Dressing in anything but the most conservative styles at work typically drew the same reactions. Tonight, at least, she could accessorize with the small gauze pad taped over her temple. Kowalski’s arrest had not gone as smoothly as anyone had hoped, but in the end the Bureau got its man.