Author's Note: Wooooow. I haven't been here since at least 2006. So, I'm going to be posting a new story. Here it is.
Please note that this story contains original characters. Their profiles can be found on my deviantart; the page is on my profile for those who want to learn!
When Ulric O'Donnell stood trial in that same courtroom twenty years ago, he ranted about the writing he saw on the walls, and the ghosts standing behind the jury.
He was always a fantastic actor. It helped that the judge back then was in his friend the Don's pocket.
Wolf wasn't so lucky. While it was true he had a longtime, casually intimate friendship with the current Don (the Donna, actually—the previous one's daughter), and she did have a few judges under her influence, this wasn't one of them. Not that having a crooked judge would help—if he got off scot-free, it would definitely look suspicious.
He wondered if the rest of his team got back to base safely. He wondered who it was who pulled his unconscious body from his crashed Wolfen after McCloud shot him down. Not that it mattered who at this point; two bailiffs on either side of Wolf escorted him into the courthouse, brushing away reporters dying to get a glimpse of the criminal. In a sharp contrast to his father's staged rantings, Wolf looked straight ahead, a small smirk tugging at his lips.
The courtroom was no different, with all eyes bearing down on him, some with pity, some with fear, but most with a misplaced satisfaction. He wondered where McCloud was; knowing him, the pup was probably watching front and center, if not simply watching the televised trial.
The typical courtroom proceedings were hurried through; the judge, an aging ram, was beginning to read off the charges:
"25 counts of manslaughter,"
Only 25? He could have sworn he did more. Though, all the people he offed when under contract with Donna Camilla probably didn't count…after all, no one found the bodies yet.
"4 counts of war crimes against Lylatian government,"
Okay, that sounded about right.
"45 counts of grand theft,"
Oh, you have no idea, he thought.
"17 counts of first-degree murder,"
Hey, he wasn't responsible for at least six of those; they attacked him first. Verbally or physically didn't matter.
Also, yet again, there were some bodies not found. And some people they couldn't prove he killed.
"2 counts of arson, 10 counts of disorderly conduct, 5 counts of drug distribution, 6 counts of extortion, and 15 counts of aggravated assault."
Really? That was all? Well, better not to make it worse.
"Mr. O'Donnell, how do you plead?"
His attorney stood from his seat—a young reptile; new blood, not used to the harshness of court. He probably thought that representing Wolf would boost his career. Idiot.
"My client would like to plead no contest."
Actually, Wolf didn't put in a plea at all. He didn't feel like talking to anyone.
The rest of the trial continued smoothly, with the jury only taking a matter of minutes to decide the verdict. Now for the sentence. Probably would be death, but there were a few people in the Donna's pocket who could get him out alive.
"The court hereby finds Mr. Wolf O'Donnell guilty of all charges."
No shit.
"The initial sentence was to be death; however, a statement has been given by Mr. Fox McCloud detailing Mr. O'Donnell's actions during the Aparoid Invasion. As a result, his sentence has been reduced to life without chance of parole."
McCloud? Figured. He didn't want the blood on his own hands to have a name attached to it.
"Mr. O'Donnell will be sent to the Banquo Maximum Security Satellite circling Macbeth, effective immediately."
Banquo? He heard of that place. Borderline inescapable, armed to the teeth, and even the Donna didn't have any inside men that weren't behind bars. But maybe…just maybe…he could turn this into something highly beneficial. As Wolf was led out, his mind was already hard at work, formulating a plan.
This was going to be good.