The crowd was big. Huge. Incredibly massive. From his spot high in the tree the mass of bodies seemed to ripple and surge back and forth, people jostling each other for position. Every now and then an especially loud shout would punctuate the already indecipherable din that was making his ears begin to vibrate with a ring that he knew would last well after he was safely ensconced back in his home.
He adjusted his hat to shade his eyes and tried to get comfortable in his lofty perch. It was an endeavor doomed to fail. The crook of the branch he was currently resting on was hardly fit for a seat, even a makeshift one. The rest of the tree wasn't much better. Cursing under his breath, he wriggled around trying to find a suitable position.
"I say, you there!"
The man paused at the faint voice that drifted upwards. Looking, down he noticed someone climbing up toward him, a slightly pudgier man in a nice suit who appeared to be having some difficulty.
"Mind if I join you?" he shouted up.
The pudgy man's question was barely discernable over the noisy clamor, and the first man had to strain to hear it. He nodded his assent.
Huffing and puffing, the pudgy man continued to haul himself up. When he reached the level of the first man he sagged against the trunk, catching his breath. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped the sweat from his face, red with exertion. "Haven't done that in a long while!" he said with a small smile. "Genetic conditioning or not, if you don't take care of yourself you'll waste away, I suppose!"
"I'm afraid the accommodations aren't spectacular," the first man said.
"Oh, that's alright. Anything's better than that crush down there."
"Speaking of, do you know what exactly is going on?" The first man asked.
A surprised look came over the pudgy man's face. "You mean you don't?"
"I'm afraid not," the first man said. "Got caught up in it on my way home, and decided to wait it out up here." He had to talk very loudly to be heard; his voice would be hoarse later as well.
"Well," the pudgy man said, "there's a trial going on. A very important trial."
"This many people interested in a trial?" The first man was flabbergasted. "Who is it? This much public interest is huge!"
The pudgy man sighed in agreement. "It always is with celebrities."
--
Somewhere in the depths of the courthouse was a dark room. Where exactly was a matter of debate, but suffice to say that it followed the rules and regulations of most mysterious dark rooms that are used for interrogations and torture and the like.
With a dramatic flourish, two lights came on. The first was a spotlight that illuminated a small chair. Plain, utilitarian, and most importantly, uncomfortable.
The second light was hidden behind twelve large throne-like objects, making them appear as a line of big, imposing shadows arrayed at one end of the room. Each was occupied by a figure of great importance.
Or so they told themselves.
"Bring in the accused!" shouted a pompous voice.
With a harsh grating sound a door opened, letting in more light briefly before being slammed shut.
"You will sit in the chair," another voice commanded.
Light footsteps accompanied the walk of the accused. A pink haired girl stepped into the circle of light cast by the spotlight and sat down daintily, hands clasped in her lap, back straight, eyes forward. A very pretty girl, to be sure.
"Lacus Clyne," boomed a third voice, deep and ominous, "do you know why you are here today?"
The pink haired girl opened her mouth to speak. "I—"
"You are here," the voice continued, "to account for your criminal actions during the course of the Bloody Valentine War."
"But I—"
"Yes!" screeched another high-pitched voice. "You will answer for the damages you have visited upon this glorious nation of ZAFT!"
"But—"
"The betrayals!" shouted another voice.
"BETRAYALS OF THE WORST KIND!"
"Your injustices will not go unpunished!"
"My injustices—"
"Lacus Clyne," the booming voice said yet again, "Do you know what you are charged with?"
The girl was beginning to look a little flustered. "Every action I took during the war was for the greater good of—"
"Silence!" the voice boomed. "Read the list of charges!"
The pompous voice began to speak… pompously. "Lacus Clyne, you are hereby charged with three counts of conspiracy to aid the enemy, two counts of theft of ZAFT technology, four counts of vandalism—"
"What?"
"—17 counts of indecent exposure—"
"That was Meer Campb—"
"—two counts of media terrorism, 43 counts of inciting a riot, and one count of disturbing the peace."
"Disturbing the peace? That's just ridicu—"
"The charges have been read," the booming voice said, "how do you plead?"
"Innocent!"
"Verdict?"
"Guilty!"
"GUILTY!"
"Guilty!"
"Guilty!"
"Lacus Clyne, you have been found guilty by the honorable high council of PLANT," the voice boomed. "We will now hand down your punishment."
"Punish her!"
"PUNISH HER!"
"Off with her head!"
"Lacus Clyne," the pompous voice said, "because you are underage, you are hereby sentenced to 400 hours of community service, to be completed in the next two months."
"But—"
"And no more pop music either."
"Yes," said the booming voice, "your bubblegum pop will not be tolerated any longer."
"That's—"
"Silence!"
"Could you stop booming pl—"
"Silence! Justice will be served!"
That last boom may have been one boom to many. The room began to shake slightly. Barely noticeable at first, but with each passing second it grew and grew until the whole room was vibrating violently. Jagged chunks of the ceiling began to fall down, crunching noisily around the assemblage.
"What is this!" the voice boomed.
"With an earsplitting CRACK the entire ceiling split apart, revealing the blinding glow of the outside sky. Like two angels from Heaven, two massive mobile suits descended through the gaping hole, one red, one white, the light framing them with glorious awe-inspiring halos.
"I'VE GOT YOUR JUSTICE RIGHT HERE!"
"FREEEEDOOMMMM!!"
--
The two men in the tree watched the mobile suits fly away from the ruins of the courthouse as the crowd rabble-rabbled below them.
The pudgy man turned to the man in the hat. "Well, what do you make of that?"
The eyes of the man in the hat tracked the machines until they were just specks in the distance. "Hell if I know. Adolescent hormones overriding common sense, probably."