The Trial Of Susie Derkins

Chapter IX: Judgement

The final chapter, praise be to Raptor Jesus.

For those who came in late,

Read the other chapters. Hell, read the first story, "Catch 22 syndrome." This chapter will make tons more sense if you do.

I don't own Calvin and Hobbes, Foxtrot, Curtis, etc, and the speech at the end is a dark parody of one from Hellsing.

I like reviews.

"Highweller is nothing new to me."

"Oh, the get-up might be a little different, the rhetoric is changed a little, but all in all it's just my dad all over again to me."

"Am I surprised he, having displayed such a frightening contempt for children and teens, went after Susie for having done an act of charity? Unfortunately, no, I am not. Such a reaction indicates the lack of maturity needed to accept the idea that one could be potentially wrong. Make no mistake- I will never, ever trivialize the horrific and unforgivable damage Highweller and his allies have caused. But under the façade of a righteous judge and a holy warrior, he is nothing more than a senile, short-sighted old man using his influence and wealth to throw a devastating temper tantrum for no good reason whatsoever."

"The majority of the world has heard about how his rampage was sabotaged at every turn- elevator malfunctions killing more than three thirds of his remaining crew, bombs failing to detonate, and, in what is concurred by leaders of multiple faiths to be direct retribution of an angry god, a lightning bolt rendered him unconscious as he held Calvin Halgins and Susie Derkins at gunpoint."

"I say it is too flattering to say that Highweller's actions required the direct intervention of God to be stopped. While the victims should be mourned, Highweller's assault on a hospital should not be glorified."

"Someone like him, willing to kill innocents to get attention, deserves to die alone and forgotten."

-Faith X on Simon Highweller.

"Struck by lightning." Louis Belary repeated. "You're serious."

"He was waving a shotgun around in a storm on a roof. That's a recipe for human lightning rod if ever I heard one." Calvin sighed.

They were at Calvin's home, then, discussing the events of the hospital attack. The following few days had passed in a daze. He registered some news- that the doctor that had left them to die had fallen to his death, that Susie's mother had been shot but was stable, that Susie would live… and most frustrating of all, that the lightning bolt that had smote Highweller had not killed him.

"You don't sound too thrilled." Louis commented.

"Would it be too much to ask that he be charcoal?"

Louis shrugged. "I think he's wishing it had killed him. Or, at least, he will be."

It dawned on Calvin that he had a point. There would be no greater shame for Highweller to be convicted in a court of law, declared legally wrong, sentenced as he had sentenced so many others. No doubt the old fart was begging God for death right now.

"They'll need you to testify, though it's going to be a formality at this point, with all the security footage the hospital cameras got." Louis noted.

In the following days, Calvin, for the first time in his life, welcomed the schoolwork as the only break his mind got from dwelling on all the deaths, the senseless miseries that Highweller and his cronies had inflicted. Never in his life had he appreciated the mental stress that pre-algebra would give him, until it provided succor from thinking about the patients who had died in the rampage and the memorial shrines at school.

He couldn't stand to go to school. Not now. He had tried for one day, and he had been able to endure the stares and questions, but the stories… the insipid stories where he beat Highweller to a pulp with his bare hands, or challenged him to an old fashioned quick draw, or left him a sobbing wreck with just his words, it was these idiotic fantasies that he was some sort of video game hero, that dwelled on Highweller's defeat and not the lives he'd ruined, that made him beg Spittle to do his classwork at home, and for once in the man's life, something resembling compassion had flickered in his eyes, and he had relented.

His inbox was into the thousands. He had been peppered with so many requests for interviews he had snapped at the last caller, threatening to rip their spine out their urethra and flog them to death with it, a threat simultaneously so horrifically vile and stupidly hilarious that Hobbes, who had taken to guarding his door obsessively, had been torn between a concerned stare and laughter.

The trial day arrived. Calvin made sure he was presentable with a day's worth of fitful sleep and good clothes, but he had a fairly good idea of how the trial would proceed.

And he was right.

"It was all Andrew Derkins and Calvin's idea, I swear!" Goffels whimpered as the prosecutor, a redheaded man in his thirties, sighed. It was the 16th attempt at blaming someone else for his involvement.

Calvin glanced at Andrew Derkins, clad in formal military attire, who just pinched the bridge of his nose, too exasperated to be angry with the ludicrous accusation. Goffels had been a hurricane of melodrama, needing to be carried to the witness stand, screaming and crying. He had managed to force a short recess by wetting himself, but Judge Verner had made it clear further theatrics would be considered contempt. It was clear Goffel's reputation had a negative impact on his reputation in jail- he sported a bruised face and a black eye, but he had clearly suffered far less than one would have expected. His right arm was still in a sling, the result of Candace turning his own gun on him.

Candace and her father, Duke Maple, were present as well. At first, Duke had to be restrained for fear he would pummel Goffels to death, but now, he seemed torn between revulsion and amusement as his daughter's kidnapper felt apart, piece by piece. Candace herself watched with what was best described as muted disbelief as the person who could have been her murderer grasped at so many straws.

"Calvin wanted me to take Candace so he could write about it, and Mr. Derkins told me if I didn't do it, Susie wouldn't be valedictorian, and he'd kill me! I was forced, you have to believe me-"

"So the hundreds of witnesses who swear they watched you stuff an unconscious Candace Maple into a duffle and haul her off the stage at Verdant Junior High were all mistaken?" the prosecutor asked sarcastically.

"It's a conspiracy!" Goffels whined, shrinking as far down into his seat as he could. "They wanted me gone and Spittle back so they could go back to the way things were before I came- cutting class, selling drugs in the halls- all I did was call a lecture to calm them down and suddenly Calvin started shooting people left and right, ranting about 'needing the fame'…"

Calvin stared at Goffels incredulously. Surely the man understood, on some level, no one here was buying the ridiculous story he told? Even before evidence had come to light that Highweller had used his connections to have a girl Goffels molested and her family assassinated, his story, having changed fifteen times, beginning with Susie and Candace being engaged in a lesbian suicide pact, had only provoked looks of disbelief from the jurors and judge alike.

"I'll ask one last time, Mr. Goffles." The prosecutor said in a low, angry tone. "How do you explain your actions during your tenure at Verdant Junior High?"

"It… it… it was all Spittle's idea, he-!"

But Judge Verner had clearly had enough. There was no trace of the mercy he had shown Susie, all that he displayed now was a harsh glare and irritation. It was as if Highweller's good twin had stepped in to judge. "Bailiff, take the witness back into custody."

"NO!" Goffels shrieked, making Calvin wince. It reminded him of the stereotypical scream cartoon women gave when they spied a mouse, shrill and piercing. "Please, please! They'll kill me in there! THEY SAID THEY WOULD KILL ME! I DON'T-"

"-deserve this!" Moe screamed.

Judge Verner glared down at him. "Given your history of repeat offenses and your intimate knowledge of the law's loopholes, I have little choice. You will be tried as an adult for your role in these crimes."

Calvin tried to show no overt satisfaction in the look of horror on Moe's face. The idea of lasting consequences for his sadistic actions was clearly an alien concept Moe's brain couldn't process.

"It's not my fault!" Moe yelled, looking about the room for a sympathetic face. "I was just doing what I was told, until Mr. Kill-em-all there-" he pointed to Calvin, who obligingly smiled, "came up behind me and shot me in the leg!"

"…and during this incident, were you not assisting the community of Highground in illegally detaining Susie Derkins?"

Moe blinked. "Huh?" he replied, confusion readily apparent.

Calvin felt a twinge of pity for the prosecutor, who ran a hand through his red hair with an overt sigh. Clearly the man had overestimated Moe's vocabulary. "When you were shot, weren't you helping Highweller's town keep Susie hostage?"

"Yeah, so he could put her on trial and then execute her-"

Moe realized he shouldn't have said that as a wave of gasps rippled through the courtroom, silenced by repeated smacks of the gavel. Calvin glanced at Susie, and she shot back a look that spoke, "What did you expect from Moe?"

"It's what he ordered me to do!" protested Moe, screaming now. "I was-"

"-just following orders!" Joe punctuated each word by banging on the witnesses' stand.

The attorney gave Joe Caldern an unconvinced look. "Mr. Caldern, surely someone with your experience in law enforcement would know that Susie was well out of Highweller's jurisdiction, not to mention the gross illegality of the methods you used in your attempts to silence Calvin Halgins…"

"You see, that's the problem!" Joe pleaded. "I'm supposed to fight dangerous murdering thugs like him by the book?"

"Calvin's killings all took place while he was being shot at. Yours took place in a school." A concise rebuttal and an effective one. He'd have to use that, Calvin decided.

"What about my son? Have you seen what he did to him?!" Joe protested. "He's a cripple now!"

"Your son had, just the other day, willingly and knowingly assisted in the abduction of Susie Derkins and the attempted bombing of Verdant Junior High." Countered the prosecutor.

"We had to take her! She's a threat to society, trying to blind and deceive people with her…" Joe stopped, suddenly, having gone rather pale, and Calvin traced his horrified stare back to Andrew Derkins, who wore what to Calvin appeared to be a professional level poker face. There was no apparent malice in Andrew's stare… in fact, there didn't seem to be anything in his stare, and for a moment Calvin wanted to check and make sure the man was still alive.

"Nevermind." muttered Joe quietly. "Nevermind."

Calvin recalled vividly the screams Joe had made when he was at the military base. While there was no question in his mind that Joe would be the one to deserve 'enhanced interrogation methods', there was equally no question that he was better off not knowing what memory of agony could possibly cow Joe Caldern, the stereotypical "big man" corrupt cop, into quiet submission. He glanced back at Andrew several times, but his expression never changed.

"I did it because Calvin is demonic." Deetra Kalen stated succinctly.

The prosecutor, taken aback from the lack of theatrics thus far, pressed on. "Demonic?"

"You should have seen his homework papers. Poked full of holes. He was planning to murder me, it was very obvious. He started by getting me fired. If I hadn't done what I did, I'd be dead." For someone who months ago had been reduced to screaming hysteria, Kalen held an eerie calm as she gave her explanation.

"Ms. Kalen, you do realize it was nothing Calvin said, but your being caught in a deliberate attempt to deceive Mr. Spittle as to Calvin's behavior that got you dismissed, do you not?"

"The lies were necessary." Kalen retorted, teeth clenched. "My classroom, my kingdom. If I can't decide what is true and what isn't, I can't teach."

"Ms. Kalen, you can say two and two make seventeen all you want, but that doesn't make it so-"

"IT SHOULD!" Kalen screeched, her façade of calm shattering so rapidly it made Calvin jump. "I should be the one who decides who is right and who is wrong, who passes and who fails! You're just like him!" she pointed frantically at Calvin, "trying to undermine authority! Poison! You're all poison, trying to bring me down, drag me down and make me obey those ungrateful little shits, waaaaaaah," and here Kalen did a very blatant mocking voice, "the work is too hard, Miss Kalen. You're being mean, Miss Kalen. Why do we have to write so many numbers, Miss Kalen?! Every goddamned day, more kids poisoned by that little brat's propaganda, if you had any decency you'd have let me finish the job- LET GO OF ME!" She screeched as the bailiff grabbed her as she tried to climb over the witness stand. "I AM A TEACHER! I AM A GODDESS! I AM-"

"-above the law!" Highweller asserted triumphantly. He still shook from whatever nerve damage the lightning had done, but no amount of injury, it seemed, could reign in Highweller's pride.

The prosecutor looked to the judge. "Mr. Highweller, answer the question or I will find you in contempt." Verner ordered, and Highweller gave a wounded, betrayed sort of look, as if he had been expecting professional courtesy.

"Why," repeated the prosecutor, "did you campaign against Susie Derkins?"

Highweller stared at him blankly. "You… you…" he looked around, very clearly alarmed. "…you all really don't get it do you?" When no one gave an affirmation or denial, he continued, quite flustered. "It's an obvious ruse." He explained, dismayed no one else had come to this conclusion beforehand. "She puts up this façade of a smiling Samaritan, gets all the kids in her school involved, and suddenly everyone in town thinks an entire school's worth of amoral adolescents are incapable of doing wrong! Then, when the town is worshipping her and her followers, they have control. They can steal. They can cheat. They can even murder, and no one will dare speak out against them!"

No matter how many times he heard Highweller's reasoning, that Susie was the Whore of Babylon with a grand scheme of deception, it sounded crazier to Calvin each time. He looked back at Andrew Derkins, and immediately looked away with a shudder. The man was wearing what should have been a smile but wasn't, and for a brief moment, Calvin felt a pang of pity for Highweller should Andrew ever have a moment alone with him.

"Mr. Highweller, do you have any proof any illegal activity was planned?" the prosecutor asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"She was deceiving the entire town for the sake of future ransacking!" Highweller roared. "If that's not illegal, I don't know what is!"

"Did you ever consider," asked the prosecutor, disbelief in his voice, "that Susie may have simply been doing a good deed?"

"Even if she was so delusional and vain as to think her actions would have any positive effect on those bums, the damage she did still stands. If she doesn't exploit this smokescreen, someone else will! So it doesn't matter if she's evil or stupid, the Whore of Babylon must still die!"

"Even with that mentality," asked the prosecutor, turning to face both Highweller and the jury, "how do you justify your killing students, teachers, and patients-"

"THAT IS ALL ON YOUR HEADS!" shouted Highweller, standing up suddenly. "The whore's head, Calvin's head, all of your heads, those deaths are your punishment for siding with the concubine of Satan! And if you don't have the strength of spirit needed to slay her, then by God I will-" he grabbed the chair behind him, clearly trying for one last attack on her, but he staggered as he hefted the chair, and the bailiff obligingly tackled and handcuffed as murmuring and whispers filled the court.

"Let go of me." He demanded, feebly struggling. "Let go of me! I have a mission! I alone am the last righteous man on this sullied earth! LET ME GO! YOU CAN'T -"

"DO-" Moe was brought down hard as he tried to pry his way out of the guard's grasp after making a desperate sprint for the courtroom door.

"THIS -" Kalen thrashed wildly, forcing the guards and bailiff to pin down her legs as she tried to kick free.

"TO-" Goffels wailed as he was dragged off by the bailiff, desperately trying to shake free as tears streamed down his face.

"…me." Joe feebly whimpered as he buried his head in his hands.

There was no vindication to be gained from having correctly predicted how the courtroom drama of the defendant's testimonies would play out. The rants differed a little here and there, but the gist of each defendant's story had been that they, and they alone, were so special, so perfect, that the law did not apply to them the same way it did to all the lesser beings they shared the planet with. He was, disturbingly, reminded of himself at six years old, a singularity of entitlement bolstered by a staggeringly large vocabulary, but he consoled himself with the fact none of his tantrums resulted in death.

The trial would take several months, he and Susie, still recovering, were due to testify, but mostly due to deliberation as to how many charges would be filed and against whom, but Louis spelt out the likely results to Calvin.

"Life in prison or lethal injection. Probably two years in juvenile hall and then life for Moe."

Calvin read Louis' face and knew what he was thinking- Moe's life expectancy would dramatically decrease the moment he set foot back in juvie. If he survived two years, it would exponentially plummet when he went to prison proper.

He recalled how, once, after he had been pummeled by Moe again in his youth, he had hoped that when he was successful and he was in prison, he wouldn't be too mature to gloat.

Moe had arrived in prison decades before Calvin expected, and yet he couldn't muster the energy to gloat in the slightest.

DECEMBER 1st

"State your name for the jury."

It was a pointless formality. The moment he had been called up to the witness stand, murmurs had broken out, dying only with the angered cracking of Verner's gavel.

Nonetheless, he complied. There was nothing to be gained from being found in contempt of court. "Calvin Halgins."

"How long have you known Susie?" asked the prosecutor, turning to Calvin.

"Eight years." Eight years, more or less. For three of those he had been an unholy terror to her.

"Mr. Halgins," and Calvin found the formal addressing helped him not one bit, "you were at the charity drive Susie organized of your own volition, correct? To do a school report?"

"Yes." Calvin was succinct, Louis had advised him to be so, even when questioned by the prosecutor.

"During any point at that time, did you hear or sense any indication that Susie knew of Highweller's stance and was doing the drive solely to spite him?"

"No. As far as I could tell, she just wanted to do something nice." Short, to the point. The man acting as Highweller's defense attorney, a balding man with black sideburns, was watching him like a hawk, looking for weaknesses.

"You have been a staunch advocate of hers since the lecture, correct?" asked the prosecutor gently. "Did you encounter opposition for this?"

"Yes." Calvin responded, still keeping one eye on the defense, and one on Susie, who was watching him with a worried expression as her father held her hand.

"Would you explain to the court the things that happened to you prior to the attack on the hospital?"

So he told them, as best as what he felt was a damningly finite vocabulary would allow, the attempts made to silence him. How Marrin, who he knew now to be dead at Highweller's hand, refused to hear his testimony. How his omnijournal account had been shut down. How Moe and Joe Caldern had tried to murder him in a bathroom and a camera had been rigged up to catch them in the act. How Spittle had been dismissed days later. How Goffels had tried to force him, under threat of expulsion, to surrender his passwords and declare everything he'd written about Susie and Grindstone were lies.

When he described how Kalen had, at Goffels' command, tortured him for information, he noticed Susie had buried her hands in her face, crying openly, faces of shock and fury on her parents' faces. His mother was weeping and dabbing at her eyes, and his father's face held a rage he had never seen before. Several jurors were staring dumbfounded as he told them how he had been beaten mercilessly in an attempt to extract his passwords. Even the prosecutor seemed taken aback at the recounting of the tale.

"…after that happened, you were called back to school by Goffels?" asked the prosecutor, still aghast at the description of how Kalen had tried to cut off his fingers.

"Yes. First day back, he called me into his office, told me he was disappointed in me, and demanded I turn over my passwords and apologize or he'd make sure I never graduated."

"That was… three days before the attempted bombing of Verdant?"

"Yes." He should have seen it coming, the attack. He'd put a fatal shred of trust in Goffels, in the assumption that there was some shred of humanity that would stop short of assisting mass murder to get what he wanted. That he was a pedophile came as little surprise.

"Nothing further." The prosecutor added as he stepped back to his seat. He had stopped short of the one thing, a very significant thing, that could damage Calvin's testimony, but as the defense attorney stepped forward, Calvin knew there would be no such nicety.

"Calvin," and for some reason the informal addressed irked him, was he going crazy? "would you say you have gone to extremes to defend Miss Derkins?"

Calvin dug for a defensive response. "I would say we all have."

"But it was you, as your own testimony states, who was willing to endure torture, assassination attempts, and threats to make sure she was defended." The prosecutor countered, and there was a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"You were even willing to maim and kill to ensure she got off, weren't you? It didn't matter if it was a boy just three years older than you or a handful of adults, anyone who threatened Susie in the slightest had to die, didn't they?"

"They kidnapped her and tried to blow up our school to cover it up." Calvin replied. "And then there was Highweller gloating, on video, which I believe we have as evidence- we do?- Yeah, him gloating about how he was going to coerce her into confessing to whatever he wanted in exchange for not blowing us up, then kill us all anyway. So I made the crazy assumption they wouldn't listen to polite requests."

"I'm not saying their actions weren't threatening," the attorney responded, "but you've displayed incredible eagerness to throw yourself into danger if it means benefitting her. Would you clarify for the court your relationship with Susie Derkins?"

The prosecutor rose. "Objection, your honor, relevance-"

"Your honor, the motives of why Calvin would go to such extremes is pertinent to this case-"

"Overruled. You may continue." Verner ruled.

The defense smiled. "Your answer, Mr. Halgins?"

Calvin looked at Susie for a brief second. "She's a good friend."

"A good friend? A friend that rewards or offers to reward you for your assistance in, say, the beaming report you did about her in your school newspaper? Or for running smear campaigns against her enemies?" The attorney's voice took on a caustic edge now. "What was she giving you? A handjob for the article and oral for every time you helped…"

"OBJECTION, YOUR HONOR, THIS IS OBSCENELY-"

"Answer the question, Calvin! Was she bribing you sexually for your assistance?!" Andrew looked ready to tear the attorney limb from limb as he rose, Susie beet red and looking down at the floor…

"YOUR HONOR-" the prosecutor was on his feet as Verner cracked his gavel. "Sustained!..."

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!" demanded the attorney over the chaos.

For a moment, Calvin wanted to murder this monster, this sleazeball of a lawyer in the most horrific way possible… then, as if someone, something had whispered the idea to him, his rage vanished…

"I have to ask, sir- just how much time have you spent fantasizing about two minors engaged in hypothetical sex bargains?!" Calvin retorted, putting a great deal of revulsion and shock into his voice.

"I…" the attorney withered as everyone- Susie, her parents, Calvin's parents, the jury, all assembled looked at him expectantly, as to hear a reason.

"Why is it, that when examining my motive for helping to defend an innocent girl who has been nothing but charitable to her community, you immediately come to the conclusion she's bribing me with sex? My answer is, of course, no, no bribes or rewards besides a 'thank you' were offered or expected. My sole gratification was aiding someone I had been a bully to when we were kids, but I have to profess my concern that the first thought you seem to have drawn from my assisting her is that we were involved in elaborate sex exchanges! Are you that lonely?"

Susie buried her face in her hands again, this time desperately trying to stifle laughter, Andrew had sat back down, amused by the direction this had taken. Betty Halgins' mouth hung open, dumbstruck by what she must of considered was a new level of audacity by Calvin.

Several times the attorney tried to speak, failed, and eventually walked back to his desk with a weak "Nothing further." Some jurors were snickering, others looked fairly put off. Highweller, sitting at the table, handcuffed and battered, shot Calvin a look of pure loathing and went back to burying his head in his hands.

Verner looked at Calvin with narrowed eyes, drumming his fingers on his desk, clearly unamused. "The jury will interpret Mr. Calvin's response as a simple negative to the question. I want further speculation from the defense and the witnesses kept to a bare minimum."

"Susie Derkins, why did you begin the charity drive?" asked the prosecutor.

"Because I recently got a hundred dollars for my birthday, and when I told my friends, one said she'd never gotten any money for her birthdays because her family couldn't afford it."

"So you donated your money and time out of… altruism? Guilt-" and Highweller's eyes flared hopefully, "-that your friends weren't as lucky?" and his eyes returned to their normal sullenness.

"Because I didn't know how bad she had it, and it hit me- I'd always thought poverty happened to someone else." Susie meant it genuinely, it was the most concise method she had of explaining her myriad of motives for the charity.

"So you had no idea Highweller even existed?"

Susie shook her head. "No," she replied, noting the look of fury and hatred in Highweller's face as his hands clenched and unclenched. Even after being electrocuted nearly to death in what many were calling a "the backhand of God", he had shown no remorse for his actions. "I knew nothing about him until he showed up to… rant at us."

"What did he say, during the lecture, was his motive for coming to your school?"

"He said," and Susie felt ridiculous now, back then, the feeling of humiliation and shame of being called such horrible things was overwhelming, but now she had a different perspective... "that 'they weren't fooled'. That we were incapable of altruistic acts and that I had done it as a cover up for crimes."

"You were arrested during the lecture, correct?"

"Yes," and she felt the still-healing wounds ache as she recalled, painfully, slowly, how she had been beaten twice, once during the lecture, when Calvin and Heighs had tried to intervene. How her 'interrogation' had been nothing but Moe and Joe kicking her in the stomach, beating her with a nightstick, throwing her against a wall. When she paused to look up, Calvin was shaking with rage, glaring at Highweller with eyes full of hatred. Her father, however, was calm save for the twitching of his eyes, as he looked at Highweller, as if he was sizing him up.

The description of her ordeal had gotten to the jury- some were wiping their eyes. "Susie, on another topic, what's your relationship with Calvin?"

She blushed beet red before she realized what he meant. "…we know each other. Lived in the same neighborhood for years."

"Friends?"

Susie paused. Dishonesty was a fatal mistake here. Hoping he wouldn't be too offended, she spoke. "We are now. Back then, he was a jerk."

Calvin smiled, a forced smile, but then his gaze was back on Highweller, and Susie knew he couldn't be offended, he was too focused on what he wanted to do to the judge…

"Did you expect him to do all this?" asked the prosecutor.

"No…" responded Susie truthfully, "but I'm not surprised he's the one that did it." She looked at Calvin, who had stopped glaring at Highweller. Eyes wide, looking back at her, he flushed pink, blinked several times.

"No further questions." The prosecutor went back to his seat, smiling broadly.

The defense attorney stood only briefly, clearly aware of the state of his case. "Your honor, the defense rests-"

Highweller stood, face livid. "NO, WE DO NOT! This trial has been a cavalcade of lies and slander against honest, God-fearing men such as myself, and I will not sit here and be silent while this WHORE-"

"Highweller, control yourself or I will find you in contempt-" warned Verner.

"You'll find me in contempt of court?! Do you not see-" he waved handcuffed hands at Calvin and Susie "-what they have reduced me to? That they made my actions necessary? If that whore, that Jezebel had submitted to her punishments without struggling, if she had dismissed her personal foot-soldier Calvin and stood trial, none of this would have happened!"

"None of it?!"

Susie suddenly realized she had spoken, and rage replaced pain and shame, and she vented every word she had withheld, every angry thought she'd reigned in-

"You ordered your men to kill students just to show what would happen if anyone fought back. Then you set bombs to level the school and kill everyone inside. Then you lied to me, telling me I would have to accept my punishment or you'd detonate the bombs when you were willing all along to kill thousands of innocent people! And for what?! Because you didn't think I was being completely altruistic?"

Highweller for once, was stunned, unable to speak, and Susie felt the words rush from her like so much bile…

"It's about the power, isn't it?" she snarled, and Highweller jerked like she had when he had begun lecturing. "You became a judge to have power over people, and the people who had the least power, the least resources to fight back when you went after them- kids, teens- they're your favorite targets, because they usually don't have the resources to fight back! And it's not enough to just be above them, you have to grind them down into the dirt every chance you get, make the world hate them as much as you do! That's why you hired Moe and hated me, isn't it!? Because the charity drive made the kids who participated look good, and you couldn't stand people thinking of us as any better than thugs and whores!"

Highweller stood there, shaking, not so much furious as stunned.

Verner shouted and demanded order, but only silence followed in the wake of Susie's lamblasting.

For the people of Newden, Ohio, retribution was a high priority. The trials of those involved in what was quickly becoming known as the "Highweller Attacks" were done swiftly and by the book, but there was no doubt as to whether or not those accused would be found guilty.

Not even Deetra Kalen, whose attorney tried to get her off on insanity, was given any sympathy. She was found fit to stand trial and sentenced to life in prison, raving and ranting daily until stunned or beaten into submission.

Jeremy Goffels was sentenced to life for both his role in the Verdant Junior High raid and the kidnapping of Candace Maple. After spending his first day in prison, he was nearly beaten to death in the showers. Those involved in the assault alleged that in their youth, they had been sexually abused. Goffels' became a quadriplegic due to the injuries sustained, confined to a prison hospital bed for the remainder of his days.

Highweller was sentenced to death by lethal injection by unanimous decision of a jury. The appeal he filed fell on deaf ears. There was simply too much evidence of his cold, calculated methods of destruction and sadistic disregard for the lives of others for anyone to consider granting him such a mercy. Those few who survived the raid of Highground were given life sentences or death, and the town itself became a target for looters. In one week, everything not nailed down that could possibly be of value was taken. In four more, houses and equipment had been stripped down for copper and materials. What remained was a gutted corpse of a ghost town.

Brian Marrin's estate was liquidated to pay for the damages he was held accountable for. His funeral was attended by only a priest, and his body buried in an unmarked grave to avoid vandalism.

Joe Caldern, for his actions, was sentenced to life as well, despite begging during sentencing for the death penalty. While his attorney filed charges accusing the soldiers who responded to the Highground raid of torturing Joe, nothing ever came of it- there was simply too much outrage at what Joe had been party to for him to be viewed as anything resembling a victim.

Moe Caldern was sentenced to juvenile hall until eighteen, whereupon he would be transferred to the local prison for fifteen years. Even with the blatant disregard he showed for the damage he'd caused, the jury and Judge Verner felt he could be rehabilitated. Whether or not this was true, however, quickly became a moot point.

He was stabbed to death by multiple assailants during lunch.

On receiving news of Moe's death, one anonymous letter to the Newden Times summarized the feelings of many in six words.

"Good riddance and burn in hell."

With their need for vengeance as satiated as possible, those affected by the rampage began to rebuild. The hospital was restored. Memorials were held.

But the definition of normalcy for many was changed irrevocably.

DECEMBER 8th

There were a number of things that screamed "long day" to Calvin. Math Projects. Math tests. Anything to do with math. Surprise parent-teacher conferences. Police cars. People of authority coming to your school.

So when the Mayor of Newden came to his house with two police officers in tow, both of whom Calvin recognized as having abandoned their posts guarding Susie's room, Calvin knew his Saturday wouldn't be restful at all.

Leonardo Palenski was a pretty boy with a $500 dollar haircut, a suit that had to have cost half most people's yearly wages, and a smile that, at least for Calvin, inspired horrible fantasies about smashing him in the face with a shovel.

"I suppose you're wondering why I've come here." He began once they were all seated, Calvin's parents on either side of him on the sofa. The police remained standing on either side of Palenski.

"It does give one a bit of wonder when the mayor invites himself inside your home." Calvin replied. "To what do we owe this honor?"

"I'll get to the point, because I've kept tabs on you, Calvin, and like me you're a busy man, even on the weekends. This city needs a positive image boost. We had a great one with Susie rallying an entire school to help the homeless, but… as you can probably guess," and he smiled with a joking air that made Calvin's shovel fantasy all the more appealing, "the whole Highweller business has given the impression that Newden is a gathering place for lunatics."

"I imagine," Calvin spoke gratingly, civility bleeding out of him every second he was forced to look at that grin, "that the news regarding the police's inability to protect persons assigned to their care isn't helping much." Memories of being kidnapped by fake police officers were still fresh in his mind, along with the much more recent antics of Joe Caldern, allowed back onto the police force on the sole word of a judge.

"Ah. Yes. Well," his grin faded a little and one of the policemen, a blonde with short hair, shifted uneasily. "you clearly see where I'm coming from. Right now, we have a reputation. A bad one. That we are a city that lives by the adage "No good deed goes unpunished", when we clearly aren't."

"And yet," now Betty spoke, "A girl does a charitable act, is beaten, arrested, and tried all in the same day after being raved at by a madman from out of state, and it takes a month before anyone starts to realize that something's wrong."

Palenski frowned and was silent for several moments, and Calvin felt a deep gratitude that his mother had finally stopped that grin.

"I won't deny there have been lapses in how things should have been done. That was then. This is now. Which brings me to my request. We need another charity drive done, and we need it spearheaded by Susie Derkins."

Calvin stared blankly, wondering why he would talk to him about needing a favor of Susie Derkins, when he finally put two and two together.

"You want me" Calvin began slowly, "to ask a girl who has been put through the year from hell to do another charity drive."

"You have to understand my position." said Palenski quickly. "It doesn't matter if I'm asleep. It doesn't matter if I'm on vacation in Europe. Whenever anything goes wrong in Newden, it comes back to me."

"I do get that." Calvin responded. "Believe me, I understand people expect you to be Jesus and solve everything instantly. But do you see where I'm coming from? You want me to go over and ask a girl who has been beaten, arrested, humiliated, kidnapped, beaten some more, and shot multiple times, and is still receiving hate mail to suck it up and do another charity event. Yeah, in a logical sense, it would raise morale, but she's been bled dry. And on a side note- I already got interrogated by her father once. The man is terrifying, and that was when he knew I saved her life."

Palenski, for once, seemed to absorb what was being said rather than react defensively.

"On that note, do you understand where Susie's coming from? Where she is? She did something good for the community, and it got her nothing but pain. Then, when she was injured and needed people to stand guard over her, to protect her from Highweller's goons, the people assigned to protect her ran for their lives!"

He looked at the two officers, and they would not meet his eyes.

"Then there's the kids that rallied behind her. Thirteen students, dead. All present at the drive. They're still trying to cope with the fact they'll never see them again. If I tried to get them to rally again for the sake of the city's reputation, they'd either laugh me out of the school or riot."

Palenski did not react as Calvin thought he would. There was no rage, no more condescending smile or words, no threat, just a sad nod of understanding that what he was requesting was impossible. The policemen were less understanding, deep frowns turning to scowls, yet they still couldn't- or wouldn't- meet Calvin's gaze.

"If you want good PR," Calvin called as they walked to the front door, "if you want to show the world that you are not running a town where good deeds are criminally prosecuted, then maybe you should rally those in authority to pick up where Susie left off."

Palenski looked back at him.

Calvin shrugged. "It's just a thought."

Palenski made a noise that sounded like a 'hmm.' Whether it was dismissive or contemplative, Calvin was unsure and didn't find out. Policemen trailing him (and giving Calvin a nasty look as they did), he left out the door without even an angry gesture.

"Why did he need to bring two armed officers with him?" asked Derrick, locking the door as soon as they had left.

"I think he was worried I might try to kill him the moment he asked the favor." Calvin shrugged.

And, to be fair, given his initial mood at the start of the meeting, that hadn't been too far fetched a concern.

"There was a memorial service held at Verdant Junior High for the students and teachers killed. I felt I should attend, it's the least I can do for innocent people who were gunned down simply because a sadist wanted to make a point."

"I expected for some level of anger to be directed at me, or Susie, or even Candace. Instead, the parents and family of those who were killed came up and thanked me, because they can at least take comfort that the death toll was limited to their loved ones and not the entire school."

"What meetings absolutely must be done are done in the cafeteria. The wounds are still too fresh for most of us to enter the auditorium. Spittle is trying to keep things as sane as humanly possible, but no one can focus on tests right now."

"Moe's old locker keeps getting defaced. Most of its vulgarities or wishes for him to burn in hell. There's one word that the janitors won't scrub off, though. "Traitor." And to be honest, it's a pretty damn accurate accusation."

"This will be my last year here. I pity whoever comes here in the fall of next year. A lot of parents are considering pulling their kids out."

"No one wants to go to the 'murder school'."

Calvin Halgin's latest blog entry

DECEMBER 15th

"You given any thought to what you want for Christmas?" Calvin heard Hobbes ask.

Snow blew against his window as he stared out onto the ice-slicked streets.

"I want an explanation from God for all this bullshit." Calvin responded. It couldn't be that huge a request. Was it so wrong to want to know why so many people had to die before Highweller was finally brought down?

"Asshole plus a scapegoat plus a lot of gullible idiots equals catastrophe? Highweller had power in the form of judicial authority. He had an audience made up of adults who wanted a scapegoat for their problems. He used teens and kids. Susie inadvertently proved him wrong, so he rallied the biggest assholes he could find- Moe, Joe, Marrin, Goffels, Kalen, and every last one of his fanclub village- and declared war on her." Hobbes explained, rolling over on the bed to look at Calvin. "I'm sorry, but that's it. That's the best explanation you're going to get. Give someone power, an audience, and an entitlement complex and you've got trouble."

"But why Susie?" Calvin asked, exasperated. "I get the… idea that he saw her charitable actions as a challenge. It's insane, but I get it. But why punish her instead of, I don't know, demanding she prove she's genuine? Or asking why she did it? What was the point?"

"The point was to shut her up." Hobbes retorted. "You're not getting this. Highweller raged because he liked to be angry. He didn't want law-abiding children. He didn't want discipline. He didn't want to change anything. He wanted children angry and resentful of those in authority so that they'd rebel and he could continue punishing them. That's why he punished Susie, Calvin- because she upset the status quo."

Calvin stood there, staring at Hobbes. Was that the reason behind these months of terror and destruction? That Susie had shook Highweller's world ever so slightly, and he feared losing his reason to be angry?

"If every kid and teen obeyed the law to the letter, people like Highweller would just make up reasons to have them arrested and punished. Some people don't have reasons for being angry. They haven't been wronged themselves, nor do they care about anyone that has been wronged. Some people hate because they want to hate."

The silence that followed as Calvin considered this information might have been minutes or hours, he wasn't sure.

"I remember Moe Caldern quite clearly."

"Always polite to me. Always had an apple. Always said "Yes ma'am." Didn't have the highest IQ, but I believed he was good at heart."

"Years after he'd left my classroom, I hear about him torturing kids and trying to kill Calvin, and I was certain that it was all baseless mud-slinging. It couldn't be my Moe."

"Then I saw the tape of him kicking open a bathroom stall door and trying to kill Calvin Halgins, a boy I believed to be incorrigible. I heard about him tasering kids in the hallways for no reason. I heard how he stood by, laughing, as his fellow students were gunned down."

"I wish… I wish I had looked a little closer. I didn't want to believe the most polite student I had was the most devious. That he would be the one out of all the children I taught to betray his own school. Maybe if he'd been held accountable, he would have become a genuinely decent person. Or maybe he'd drop the act, and we'd all be forewarned."

"And maybe either way, I wouldn't have heard about him being stabbed to death in a juvenile detention center while guards just watched."

"Plenty of people are saying he deserved worse. Maybe he did. He did do terrible things and was willing to help kill hundreds of children his age. Maybe he was, from the very start, unredeemable."

"But once a teacher, always a teacher, and when you see a student having gone so wrong, you can't help but wonder what part you had in that."

From an interview with Julia Wormwood at Barker's Bar.

DECEMBER 21th

Death Row had not treated Simon kindly.

Once it became evident the guards weren't going to step in to save him for anything short of a life-threatening beating, assaults were no longer a matter of "if", it was only "when" and "where".

Sometimes it was in, of course, the showers, being slammed against tiled walls and kicked until he coughed blood. Other times it was in the cafeteria, heaved out of his seat and stomped on until guards grew tired of watching the inmates play kickball with his ribcage and threatened to taser the participants.

Today was different, however. Today he had a visitor, and whoever it was made no difference. A visitor meant a period where he was not in immediate danger of getting slammed into a wall face first, having his groin trodden on, or any other indignities.

He was led, hands and feet cuffed, to a window with a phone, and he had only sat down, gotten himself situated so that his every fiber wasn't burning with pain, when he saw who was on the other end.

Susie Derkins. Still bruised. Still very tired. But not dead, not broken.

His immediate impulse was to demand to be taken back to his cell, but curiosity, horrible curiosity, forced him to stay, to pick up the phone.

"Why," Highweller choked out, unable to form coherent thoughts for a few seconds, "in the name of God are you here?"

Susie's response was to close her eyes. "Because no matter how much I hate you, no matter how much my parents hate you, no matter how much my city hates you, my faith requires me to offer you one last chance."

Highweller sat there, stunned, looking at her with what must have been the most incredulous look anyone had ever given her in her life.

"There's a lot of guesses why you hate me. Most of them vary a little, but end with 'you're an asshole.' I honestly thought," and here Susie smiled self-deprecatingly, "that maybe, you were Satan himself. That was the only reason I could think of that you would hate me, hate anyone for doing a small act of kindness."

Highweller exhaled in what might have been a laugh in spite of himself. It was, in the sickest sense of irony, completely sensible that a girl like her could see him as the devil. Wasn't that the most effective way to psychologically brace for a war? Dehumanize the foe. Believe them to be sub-human.

"But I got this theory from Calvin, and aside from you being Satan or one of his generals, it's the only thing that makes sense."

Susie looked him in the eyes. "You can't feel anything but hate. Your life has been based on nothing but hating teens and children and spreading that hate. You hate because that's all you know how to do. So it doesn't matter to you if you see a child breaking the law or planting trees, does it? The only reaction you have, the only reaction you've conditioned yourself to have, is rampant hatred and suspicion."

"That's why you let Moe join, didn't you?"

Highweller jerked back, causing spasms of pain to course through his spine. "Moe was obedient." He retorted. "Moe knew that the only thing that could get through to thugs was-"

"Punishment." Susie finished. "Moe was so ready to punish everyone around him, he must've seemed like a 'mini-me' to you. Was that the other reason? To have a protégé, because you have no sons? Someone to carry on your message of hate?"

Highweller stared back. "Moe is the only redeemable person I saw in that school of yours-"

"Was." Susie corrected sadly.

Was? He looked quizzically at Susie, whose sorrow was quickly boiling away into a cold glare, a judging gaze that Highweller recoiled from even as he envied it's piercing power.

"Moe was stabbed to death in juvenile hall, because he sided with you." There was no blunting of the accusation now, there was a quiet, but fierce fury in Susie's eyes, and he recoiled involuntarily. "You have done nothing to teach children about obeying the law or caring for their fellow men, all you have done is teach them that no good deed goes unpunished, and how to hate. Whenever a new charity comes up, whenever they have the opportunity to sacrifice to help someone, they'll think about this. How many people you killed. How many lives you ruined."

Susie's wrathful gaze faded to be replaced with the same sad, disappointed look she had earlier. "…I really, really, really hope the reason you did all this is because you didn't know how to respond to these things with anything but hate. And as much as I hate you for what you did to my friends, to my family, to me… as much as everyone around me is thrilled at the idea of you burning in hell forever, I know, somewhere inside of me, that you suffering for all eternity won't make things right."

Susie stood. "For your sake, Highweller, let go of your hatred before it's too late. You live in the old testament, where everything was plagues, stoning, commandments and punishment. Isn't it time you started living in the new?"

Highweller shook with rage, incensed as Susie turned her back and began to leave. "You… arrogant little bitch. Who do you think you are, coming here after you sent me here to die, telling me I need to stop hating? That it's my fault I'm here? That you know the bible better than I do? Where do you get off acting like you, a little stuck-up deceptive bitch, know the law of man and God better than I do?! GET BACK HERE!" He demanded futilely, even as the guards grabbed him to pull him back from the glass. "I'M NOT FINISHED WITH YOU!"

But Susie was walking away, to someplace without guards, without inmates who beat up on ex-judges, without bars.

The realization struck Highweller full-force as he was led away- he had not broken her. He had not ruined her, or her city. It was just as Calvin had warned him- the world would not see him as a martyr or holy warrior. He had been branded a terrorist, grossly unfit for the position he had held for decades, and now they had thrown him into prison to await death, whether it was by a needle or by the repeated beatings finally catching up with him.

Then they would move on without him.

It wasn't supposed to end like this. If he wasn't to die of natural causes, his death should have been a supernova of destruction, a raging holocaust that smoldered for decades, leaving irremovable fear in the hearts of all who survived his death throes.

He remembered, stumbling as he was led back to his cell, that the world was scheduled to end today, and for Highweller, it might as well have.

It was then that he noticed he wasn't going back to where his cell was located.

"You have fifteen minutes. After that, I can't make any promises." One of the guards spoke.

"That's more than enough. Thanks, I really appreciate this." Spoke the other in a familiar voice.

As the first guard veered off and walked away, he was shoved into a small, dimly lit room with a chair bolted to the floor, and he noticed, for the first time, that there wasn't anyone else- prisoner or guard- around.

"My daughter's sweet. Forgiving, even when she really does want to rip someone's heart out. She believes Jesus wants her to spread a message of redemption and mercy, not biblethumping." Came a cold, calm voice as he chained him to the chair, securing his arms and legs with leather straps so he couldn't move.

Highweller screamed wordlessly as Andrew Derkins moved to the door, locking it, turning back as his screams turned to choked gasps. The man was smiling and yet not smiling, it was clear that there was no joy in his face despite the pearly grin.

Andrew rolled his neck. "I watched my daughter come home, night after night, dirty, thirsty, bruised and sobbing, because of you. I waited for agonizing hours on end when your men took her from school to be kicked and beaten for your amusement. I watched helplessly as you attacked her again, when she was in the hospital, and threatened to nuke the city if anyone tried to help."

He took a large bottle of something that looked like water, but the hazard warnings on it clearly identified it as something else entirely. Andrew carefully undid the top, pouring out a few drops onto the stone floor, where they began to sizzle and burn, making Highweller resume his screams for help until Andrew wrapped duct tape around his head several times, making his screams barely audible even to him.

"I've been shot. I've been stabbed. I have been set on fire, tasered, hit with tear gas, and made to listen to presidential speeches. But nothing compares to the pain of having to watch my daughter suffer, day in and day out, because someone like you had a bruised ego over being proven wrong."

Andrew went behind him now, pulling into view what appeared to be an IV rack.

"The bad, or good news, depending on how you look at it, is that someone like you can't possibly imagine that sort of pain." Andrew spoke jovially as he fixed the bottle of acid into place.

"However, the good, or again, maybe bad news is…" he continued as he pulled out a long plastic tube. "…today, you're going to get a very good idea."

DECEMBER 25th

In the past, Christmas for Calvin began at 7:00 am, sharp.

Now, all he wanted was to sleep in and enjoy the downtime between school and the world going insane. But he had things he wanted accomplished.

News of Palenski's actions had spread fast. The layoffs of several police officers- those who had ran for their lives instead of helping defend the hospital- had been significant for only a few days. What had the city's attention now was the massive effort Palenski had organized to help the city's homeless, in honor of what Susie Derkins had started.

He had made one more request of Calvin, that he write something on his blog to affirm that this was what the adults should have done, to make some bridge of solidarity between the youth and the law. He had obliged, but only if he gave something in return.

That something lay in a gift bag he now picked up as he headed downstairs, greeted by his mother and father, still in their bed robes.

"Merry Christmas, honey!" his mother smiled, then looked at him oddly as he headed to the door. "…going somewhere?"

"I need to give Susie her gift." Calvin said, stopping only to put on his coat. "Is it okay…"

His father and mother smiled at each other. "Go ahead. We'll wait up."

The air felt cleaner, somehow, after a fresh snow. Cold, fresh, free and crisp.

The world had changed, and changed terribly. Gone were the days where all his problems ended when he got home from school, the idea that horrible atrocities happened overseas or somewhere else. Even as he walked to Susie's house he kept a wary eye out for following cars or strange people following him.

There were terrible, horrible people in the world, there was no denying that.

But he'd be damned if he was going to let them turn him into a house-bound coward afraid of his own shadow.

He looked around, savoring the icy world- kids were making snowmen. Not of the same quality he'd make, mind. But it was nice to know, that even now, those little temporary monuments to childhood innocence could exist.

Suddenly he was at Susie's doorstep, his heart beating inexplicably face, sweat beading on him despite the chill of the day.

He had stared down armed gunmen. He had kept his cool when tied to a chair and beaten, when handcuffed and left to be blown up. He had refrained from freaking out when he was fired upon, and he had managed to avoid pissing or shitting himself when interrogated by Andrew Derkins, the same man who had reduced Joe Caldern to a shuddering wreck. Now his knees shook at the prospect of giving a Christmas gift to the girl he liked-

There it was. Undeniable. Irrevocable. He realized now, that he hadn't gone after Susie blindly because of some hero impulse.

A world without Susie was one he wouldn't want to be in.

This startling mental epiphany demanded time, time to think, time to understand his emotions, scrambled as they were, but he realized, to his horror, that he'd already rung the doorbell.

Already Calvin could feel the mini-calvins inside him reacting, formulating a retreat strategy.

"Run! Just run!" Suggested #12, frantically banging on the intercom to physical controls.

"Negative! The situation can still be salvaged! Leave emotion stimulation package at doorstep. THEN RUN!" amended #23.

"No, wait, divert power to mental vocal processing! We can still salvage the mission as long as-"

Andrew Derkins opened the door, clad in army shirt and sweatpants, looking down at Calvin.

The blasphemous wails of the mini-calvins, all 2,103 of them, rattled around in his skull, but one had the decency to bash the controls in its panicked flailing.

"Merry Christmas!" Calvin offered weakly.

Wait, wait. Okay, that's good. Let's work with that slowly.

"Oh, uh, Merry Christmas." Andrew Derkins responded slowly. He turned. "Susie, it's Calvin!" he called into the living room.

Calvin was no stranger to erotica- the internet, as they said, was for porn. If you could think it up, it was likely already being mass produced. At 13, he thought himself fairly numb to anything out there.

Yet the sight of Susie in a white sleep shirt and pajama bottoms raised his blood pressure at least ten points.

There was so much he wanted to say, now that they had a break from the inanity of school and from the insanity of madmen, but all he could manage, like he had before, was a simple "Hey."

She blushed and smiled. "Hey."

They stood there for a few minutes. "Wanna come in?"

"Uh… sure. Thanks." Calvin stammered.

Tina was there, sipping coffee. Maybe she smiled. Maybe she didn't. Calvin was too focused on Susie to think correctly.

"Merry Christmas." He said after what had to be several eternities. He held out the gift bag.

"Thanks!" Susie said, opening it, revealing tons of envelopes. She looked up quizzically. "What…"

"I… asked a favor from the mayor in return for writing that article I did a few days ago. It took some doing, but we found a lot of the people who you helped with the charity drive…"

Susie opened one, her mouth falling open. "These are…"

"Thank you notes."

As Susie stood there, open mouthed, Tina assertively took Andrew into the kitchen to let the two have some privacy. Susie stood there, trembling, as she opened letter after letter, reading them voraciously.

"I… I didn't know what else to give you." Calvin said after a moment, certain he'd brought up old wounds. "I just thought you should know that what you did really did help people, and they're really grate-"

And suddenly he couldn't finish, Susie was up in his face, eyes closed, warm and smelling like shampoo…

She was kissing him.

Okay, wait, what? I thought she'd be disappointed, not ready and raring- oh, hell with it.

Calvin wrapped his arms around her lightly, enough that she could pull away if she wanted, but she just pulled in tighter.

She broke away, smiling as tears streaked her face. "Thank you." She breathed.

They stood there, hugging for several minutes.

So maybe the world was a cruel, harsh place. So maybe there were people out there who operated solely on sadism and self-centered desires. There were still things and people worth fighting for, and Calvin held one of them in his arms.

"Merry Christmas, noodle-head." Susie teased.

"Merry Christmas, Godzilla." Calvin sighed as he hugged her.

More often than not, it's the adults that try to set the good example, and the kids who are expected to follow it. Too many people think that anyone under the age of 21 is incapable of having a good idea, that children should be, as the saying goes, 'seen and not heard'.

Palenski has bucked that trend.

The charity drive is funded by the city for it's homeless, and with donations pouring in, it is obvious that the impact it will have will be far greater than what Susie Derkins was able to do with $100 and a school full of kids with one weekend. But the person who started this trend hasn't been forgotten.

"Susie forfeited her birthday money- all of it- her time and her energy to do what she thought… no, what she knew was a great thing to do. Too often, we forget that children's personal income is incredibly reliant on their parents, so what seems like a small sacrifice to adults is a major sacrifice to teens. If an eighth-grader is willing to step up to help those less fortunate, then we as a city need to show that yes, we can- and we will- contribute towards such a cause."

There are still those who condemn Susie Derkins. They call her actions deceitful. They claim that Highweller was only trying to teach a lesson, and paint the man who embarked on a campaign of mudslinging, torture and terror as some sort of martyr. Even now Palenski is coming under fire for his open support of Susie's cause as an "enabler of an anarchist manipulator dead set on decimating Christian values". Responding to this accusations, Palenski had this to say:

"To quote Susie Derkins' response to Simon Highweller when he raved at her, "You keep on hating. I'll keep on helping people.""

-December 24th post on Calvin's Blog, "Tiger Chronicles".

The hallway was long, exceedingly so. Not that he was complaining. It gave him time to think, form words that would hopefully leave his audience not wanting to kill him immediately.

"You've only got one shot at this." Warned his sole companion. "Don't screw it up."

"Yes ma'am." He said, nodding back at Mary Gathwells, her scarred face stern.

Cold. Cruel. To the point. Honest. There would be no second chances. Screwing this up would mean death, quick at best. His would be a wary, suspicious audience, and he couldn't blame them.

R.A.W. was dedicated to breaking pre-adults, and no matter how many times senior Breakers vouched for him, no matter how many times they played back the footage of his training session, there was the immutable, undeniable fact that zeal and obedience aside, he, Barry Wilkins, was still a pre-adult.

The facility they were in was in the middle of nowhere. He didn't have the security clearance to know where they were, geographically, and frankly he didn't care. His only concern was winning the approval of his fellow brothers and sisters in arms.

They approached the end of the hallway, where a podium stood before a mass of uniformed and armed R.A.W. soldiers. Some were mechanics, some were cooks, some were new recruits in army fatigues, others were decorated veterans. As per his request, his parents weren't there.

There were things he'd rather his parents be kept in the dark about, and today was one of them.

He stopped at attention, clad in a simple, grey, button-down uniform and shoes, as Gathwells, clad in military dress befitting a senior breaker of R.A.W.- black and red coat and slacks- approached the podium.

"Per the majority request of multiple senior officers of Rod and Whip's recruitment division," spoke Gathwells with a military formality, "Neoidentification Recruit Barry Wilkins is presented to make his motive statement. He will be allotted time to speak without interruption, after which he will be subject to the judgement of the standing officers of the recruitment division."

There was no applause, no jeering, no sign anyone had even heard Gathwells as she stepped aside and Barry took the podium. He crushed whatever nervousness he still had, weakness meant death in R.A.W., more so when you had scarred judges looking down their nose at you, wondering why you weren't being scalded with acid or flayed with whips instead of making a speech.

"It has been asked of me why I would join R.A.W., willingly and knowingly, when R.A.W. seeks the punishment of those in my age category. It has been asked why I am prepared to give my life for the cause of R.A.W. when it has taken the lives of those my age. It has been asked why I would attempt to turn my own brother over to R.A.W., knowing full well it would mean his eventual demise. It has been asked repeatedly why I am willing to punish those I am expected to sympathize with."

He smiled. "Today, I will answer all these questions to what I hope will be universal satisfaction."

"Ladies, gentlemen," Barry took a breath. "I. Love. Punishing. I do not love disciplining, I do not love correcting, I do not love rehabilitation," he emphasized the contempt on that word, noting raised eyebrows and a few upturned lips, "I love punishing."

"I love spreading misinformation to parents about schoolmates who have wronged me. The sobs and trembles of my classmates after their parents had raged at them for fights that were never fought, thefts that never happened, insults that were never made gave me the same strength of fortitude so many find in a cup of strong coffee."

"The anguish brought on a child with a planted weapon or contraband is fine wine to me. When I managed to get a honor roll student expelled for having a pocketknife in her locker that I planted, I was in ecstasy. When my brother sobbed on the couch after another day of unappreciated labor and slappings, only then could I fall asleep, serenaded by his choked misery."

The looks had become less derisive, less predatory.

"But these trivial delights did not prepare me for what I feel here." He spoke softly, his breath catching as he recalled the wonders he had seen.

"I saw heaven when I saw the ungrateful children given rags for clothing and scraps for food, shivering in cold metal cells, their wounds festering, their hopes dying. I found purpose when I was presented with a bound, blasphemous girl whose lies offended me to even hear the gist of them, and I was given a stunclub to teach her the consequences of her wickedness. I understood was satisfaction was, at long last, when I saw news reports about hysterically grieving mothers and fathers reduced to sobbing wrecks when they heard their sons and daughters had died just seconds before they had arrived via last-minute, desperate flights to try and have one final goodbye before whip-venom disease dragged their souls to hell."

The sneers were back, but they were accompanied by knowing smiles and nodded heads, fellow connoisseurs of the art of breaking bodies and spirits.

"I knew agony," and he gripped his heart to emphasize the point "utter and unspeakable agony only when I realized the same girl I was assigned to break had escaped thanks to terrorists. The humiliation that she still lives and breathes is a lingering shame I can only hope to mitigate with her screaming death before her mother's eyes. I only knew what it meant to truly hate," and he clenched his fist and slammed it against the podium, "when the Sinbreeders had, through trickery and deception, forced us to abandon our post, and then had the unmitigated audacity to deny our beloved home an honorable death, violating her noble body with their inquisitions and investigations."

"You ask why I join R.A.W., knowing you are punishers, and have authority to punish me with pain and death? It is because I prefer death at your hands more than I do at the hands of the Defiler Jason Fox, my traitorous Irredeemable brother, or, High Father forbid, the Liemaker and Sinbreeder Calvin Halgins. To be flayed alive at your hands, ladies and gentlemen, after you would suffer me to speak, would be an honorable end. To be shot in the back by the cowards who put one of our homes to ruin would be an agony I could never bear."

"You ask why I would give my life to R.A.W.? It is because R.A.W. has given me life, true life with meaning, not the slow-motion suicide that awaits me in the outside world. To be asked to die for R.A.W., that my life could help, if but for a moment, turn the mighty gears that move our great machine of justice forward would be an honor of unimaginable greatness. To have to abide by societies' beliefs of rehabilitation?" He paused, giving a derisive smirk. "I would rather you use the acid baths on me, first."

"You would ask me why I would turn my own brother over to R.A.W.? My question is accordingly, "why not"? He is headstrong. He is confident. He believes he has worth. He is the rank-and-file vermin that I have despised for all my life, yes, even before the day I was brought to R.A.W."

"Finally, to your question of why I would, against society and your expectation of me, punish those who logic would dictate I would emphasize and unite with, I have no great explanation. I have only three words, which I gave to Hope Miles, and I now give to you."

They were leaning in now, ready to hear his crucial answer…

"Because. I. Can."

He stepped away from the podium, as he saw a cruel smile form on Gathwells face as she took his place, addressing the crowd. "You have heard the candidates' defense. You have heard his answers to the questions presented him. You have heard his motives and his impression of Rod and Whip and its goals. Judges, what say you?"

Men and women clad in red and black robes conferred with nodding heads until one stood. "We find the neoidentification candidate, Barry Wilkins, fit for immediate duty and induction into Rod and Whip."

Barry was led off the stage before the judges, and he knelt as one, a rough shaven, bald, angry giant of a man drew a double-edged sword from a gold scabbard.

"Barry Wilkins, by the power invested in me by the High Father, I pronounce you no longer a less-than-adult. I command you therefore to, on pain of death, wage war against your sinful former brethren, to seek to aid and honor R.A.W. in all its endeavors, and to silence all who would even dare whisper against our holy and perfect judgement. On pain of death, Barry Wilkins, can you vow to do this?"

"I can, and I do." Barry replied as he felt the razor edge against his throat.

"Then rise, and begin your work as not a sinful child, but a righteous agent of Rod and Whip!" the man thundered, tapping him on the shoulder.

And the crowd cheered as Barry, the first Neoidentified child, stood.

There would be hard work ahead. Grunt jobs. Drudgery. The damage done during last summer had set R.A.W. back severely. But the time for hiding and recovery was nearly done.

It would soon be time to strike back, and Barry, for one, would be ready.