Chapter 36
The trial started at ten. Judge Webb presiding. All rise.
Kurt and the other mutants had seats in a bench about five rows back on the defense side. A few rows in front of them, and on the other side of the isle, sat Senator Creed. His secretary was next to him, and at either side of them were beefy bodyguards. Directly behind Scott and his lawyer was Warren Worthington. Kurt wanted to say hi, but decided not to. Warren wasn't an X-Man, not officially, but if Magneto knew just how much help Warren had been giving them, he might count him as one of their 'team' and insist on bringing down another of his minions to even the score.
The courtroom was packed. The back had been opened for standing-room-only. The crowd didn't make him uncomfortable—it was hard to develop claustrophobia as a teleporter—but it did make him worried.
"If ze fighting starts here," he muttered to Betsy, "A lot of people are going to get killed very fast."
It won't start in here, Betsy assured him. Magneto has given his word.
Kurt lowered his voice. "And how much do we trust zat, really?"
As much as we have to.
Kurt didn't feel much better.
Opening statements happened. Scott's lawyer, Jeremy Royal, liked to stride around while he talked, with his hands stuffed casually in his pants pockets when he wasn't using them to gesture. The DA was named Mary Ann Braddock (No relation, Betsy assured him) and was a petite, middle-aged woman, much shorter than Royal but also significantly older. She was wearing high-heeled shoes that clicked as she walked in slow and steady circles around the court, her voice calm and professional. Before she'd even finished her first sentence, Kurt could tell that she was good. She described the attack on the house as "a legal arrest in a very charged political situation that rapidly escalated out of control," and Scott ('the defendant') as "a troubled young man whose past experiences have made him unreasonably distrustful of government authority." She didn't want to try to make Scott look evil—that would be close to impossible—but paranoid. Considering how paranoid Kurt was feeling right now, it wouldn't be that hard of a sell.
The prosecution called its first witness: a sergeant in dress blues who walked with a jerking, unsteady limp and leaned on a cane, though he couldn't have been older than thirty-five. He was sworn in by the bailiff, just like in the movies, and took the witness stand.
"Please state your name and occupation for the record," requested DA Braddock.
"Staff Sergeant George Carrow, U.S. Marines," said the soldier. His accent proclaimed him to be from Brooklyn.
"Sergeant Carrow, please tell us, in your own words, what you witnessed the morning of the third of this month."
Carrow, who had been perfectly confident reciting his name and rank, shifted awkwardly in his chair. "Well, ma'am, my squad was assigned to be part of an action at the Xavier Institute outside Bayville, New York."
"Could you explain the objective of this action?"
"The objective was the arrest of sixteen mutants who had refused to register in accordance with the Mutant Registration Act."
"And why were the Marines involved?"
"Show of strength, ma'am. The hope was that the mutants would submit quietly to arrest, but in case they didn't, we were as prepared as we could be. Never know what you're going to be facing when you go up against mutants. Most of us were packing riot gear—tranq darts, rubber bullets, tasers, tear gas—but some squads were packing live ammo, just to be safe."
"Please continue."
"Well, we took positions around the house, then I got on the megaphone and announced the arrest."
"Do you remember your exact words?"
"Yes, ma'am. I said 'Attention all unregistered mutants: you are under arrest. Come outside immediately or we will send troops in after you'."
Kurt scowled, and he could feel his tail whip against the bottom of the pew. "He's lying," he hissed to Betsy. "Zat never happened!"
Hush. I know.
"What happened next?"
"Nothing, for a couple of minutes. I made the announcement again. Then just as we were moving in, an alarm went off inside the house, and these thick metal plates snapped down over all the windows and doors. Some guys in another squad had already gone in through the back door, so they were trapped in there unless we moved in. We weren't gonna leave our guys, ma'am."
"So what did you do?"
"We called in our demolition crew, and they blew a hole through the plating over the picture windows in the library. We moved in, and the mutants were waiting for us. Ambush."
"When you moved in, did you see anyone that is here in this courtroom now?"
"Yes, ma'am, I did."
"Can you point that person out for us?"
Carrow pointed to Scott, who seemed to feel the gesture even if he couldn't see it, for he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "That's him."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, ma'am. I admit it was pretty dark, because it was pretty early in the morning and sunrise was still a long way off, and there was plenty of smoke, but I could see his face clear enough. He was wearing a plastic shell-thing around his eyes, and red beams kept shooting out of it, which lit up his face real good. That's the guy, all right. Those eye-beams kept knocking my guys clean across the room. I was shouting over all the noise for him to cease fire and submit to arrest, but he ignored me."
"Are you sure he heard you?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am. I can shout real loud." He smiled a little, and there was an answering chuckle from the gallery and the jury box.
"Please continue."
"Well, I took aim at him and fired . . . I was packing rubber . . . and the slug hit him in the shoulder, but it didn't even phase him. He turned and looked at me, and shot that red eye-beam. Hit me in the chest like a freight train. I flew backward and hit a bookcase, and that set my head spinning pretty hard, and when I tried to get up somebody . . . didn't see who, this time . . . stabbed me clean through the leg." He gently patted his left knee, as though working soreness out of the still-healing injury. "Well, I tried to get at my gun, but before I could grab it somebody kicked me in the head, and out I went. Woke up on a stretcher being loaded onto a helicopter. Next to me was a stretcher with my buddy, Walt DeSilva. He was all over blood, ma'am. I knew he was dead even before I yelled at him and didn't get an answer."
Braddock went to her desk and came back with something in her hand. "Your Honor, we'd like to submit this as Prosecution's Exhibit A, found by officers on scene in the defendant's bedroom."
The judge took the thing and handed it to the bailiff. "So marked. Does the defense have any objection?"
"No, Your Honor," said Scott's lawyer.
The Bailiff handed the object back to Braddock, now with a little swing tag attached. Braddock approached the witness stand. "Sergeant Carrow, I'm handing you Prosecution's Exhibit A. Can you identify this item for us, please?"
Carrow took the thing and unfolded it so that Kurt could finally recognize the shape: Scott's visor.
"This is what the defendant was wearing on his eyes that morning, ma'am."
Scott stiffened in his chair. Kurt felt himself flinch in sympathy. If it had been his holowatch just a couple of yards away, he'd have been fantasizing about trying to grab it, too.
"Could you swear that it is exactly the same item?"
"Well, no, I couldn't swear to its being exactly the same one, but it sure looks the same. See, the sections here on either side fold out to fit over the ears, and then there's this slit in the middle to see through."
"Can you tell us anything else about the object in your hands, Sergeant?"
"Well, It's got a toggle here on the side . . ." Carrow held up the visor so that everyone could see the strip of red that ran across the visor. "If I flip it, the lens flicks out of the way." He demonstrated, and the red strip disappeared, leaving just an empty slit.
"Can you tell us why the defendant would have been wearing such a thing?"
"Well, during the fight, he had his hand up to the side of his face the whole time. Looks like this visor's been designed to let those red beams through sometimes and hold 'em back other times. A lot more controlled this way."
"Would you say that this device would enable the defendant to weaponize his mutant abilities?"
"I can't see any other reason to make it with a shutter like this."
"Thank you. Your Honor, I move that Prosecution A be introduced into evidence."
The judge nodded. "Mr. Royal, do you have any objections?"
Scott's lawyer rose out of his chair, said "No, Your Honor," and sat back down again.
"It will be admitted."
How did they get Scott's visor? Betsy wondered. I remember, he left it on Avalon.
He has two. Zat's his old one. He keeps it for a spare.
"Your Honor, the prosecution has no further questions for this witness," Braddock announced.
"Mr. Royal, your witness."
Mr. Royal stood up and came around the table, paced once before the witness box with his hands in his pockets, then asked, "Sergeant Carrow, you've stated that when your unit first approached the house, you said 'Attention all unregistered mutants: you are under arrest. Come outside immediately or we will send troops in after you'."
"Yes, sir, that's right."
"Through a megaphone."
"Yes, sir."
"Was the megaphone turned on?"
"Yes, sir."
"I imagine that must have been pretty loud."
"Yes, sir, it was very loud."
"And you further claim that when you engaged my client, you told him he was under arrest and ordered him to surrender."
"Yes, sir."
"Again, very loud."
"Yes, sir, very loud indeed."
"M-hm. And you also recall that you and your unit were carrying predominantly non-lethal weaponry."
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know when those Marines who were carrying live rounds entered the house?"
"No, sir, I'm afraid I don't. If they did enter the house, I was out cold by then."
"Thank you." Royal spun casually on his heel to face the judge's bench. "No further questions, Your Honor."
"Sergeant Carrow, you may step down," Judge Webb informed him.
Both Carrow and Royal returned to their seats.
"Vell, he vasn't very helpful," Kurt grumbled. "How much are ve paying him, exactly?"
Hush. He knows what he's doing, and there's a long way to go yet.
Rogue finally had a hotel room to herself.
It was in New Jersey, though. Close enough to Manhattan that she could get there quickly, but far enough away that no one she knew would think to look for her. She'd considered returning to Warren's penthouse, but had decided that it was better for everyone if she kept spending his money rather than invading his house. So now there was nothing to do but wait. And watch the news.
And practice.
She'd learned to channel the flow of energy in her body under the tutelage of the same men who had taught Logan to channel his pain. Their instruction had been good . . . life-changing . . . but Japan was such a long time ago, and it had been a long time since she'd felt any need to practice regularly. Everything had just been so easy.
Well, things weren't easy anymore. And if she wanted to incapacitate Gambit without doing him any lasting harm, she had to have precise, exquisite control. She had to take his powers before he could take hers, and stop at precisely the right moment. It was more than she could manage now, but if she sat long enough on this hotel bed, and breathed, and concentrated . . .
She could kill him.
Ah'm not gonna kill him.
He would see it as a betrayal. He'd never forgive her.
Shut up. It'll be fahne. Ah know what Ah'm doin'.
When she couldn't stand the debate in her head anymore, she switched on the news.
"They're calling it 'The Trial of the Century' . . . it was the first day of testimony in the trial of Scott Christopher Summers, alleged leader of the mutant resistance group known as the 'X-Men.' Staff Sergeant George Carrow, one of the team leaders of the task force sent to arrest the X-Men, testified that, quote, 'I was shouting over all the noise for him to cease fire and submit to arrest, but he ignored me.' 'He turned and looked at me, and shot that red eye-beam, that hit me in the chest like a freight train.' Four other members of the task force also testified that Summers and his teammates ignored repeated commands to stand down and were clearly intent upon killing the National Guardsmen. Katie Bickley joins us from Manhattan with more."
"Jay, the street outside the courthouse has been packed with protesters all day. Summers's supporters insist that this trial is an example of anti-mutant propaganda raging out of control, and while there is certainly some anti-mutant feeling here, many of the Summers detractors insist that it's not his superhuman abilities they're worried about . . . it's the soldiers and policemen he and his teammates allegedly murdered."
"Yeah, like, I don't care if he's got super powers or what, y'know. It's just, like, another kind of gun. But he's a cop killer. That's all he is. Just a mutie cop killer. That's all."
"Thanks, Katie. Here in the studio Ronald Larsen joins us. Ron, good to see you again."
"Pleasure to be here, Jay."
"What can you tell us about how this trial's going to go? What are the strategies at play here?"
"Well, much as the protestors would like to make this into a human rights issue, legally speaking, that's really not the case. What's at issue here is honestly a question of procedure. Did the arresting team follow proper protocol when attempting to arrest Scott Summers? If they did, and the evidence given today makes a pretty strong case for that, then this trial is not going to go well for the defense at all."
Rogue scowled at the television. She felt a great desire to smash it, but then she wouldn't have anything to watch the news on. The network only had a few clips of Scott entering and leaving the courtroom, and the sight of him made her miss him fiercely. Her first friend . . . the first friend she'd ever been able to trust. He'd tell her she was making the right decision about Gambit. She wished he were here, or that she were a telepath and could call him and talk with him for a while.
Rogue, are you there?
Speak of the devil. Not Scott, but maybe the next best thing. If he wasn't mad at her, of course.
Hey, Professor. You mad at me?
Of course not. I'm just a bit confused. Why didn't you return to Avalon with Kurt?
It's kinda complicated. Don't worry, sir . . . Ah ain't hurt or nothin'. Ah just needed tuh be down here. And not up there.
Gambit was expecting you to come back. He's very upset.
He told you that?
When he found out you were missing, he spent about an hour in the training gymnasium, blowing things up.
Oh. Yeah . . . that sounds like he's pretty upset.
I wish you'd reconsider. I'm getting worried. I think something may have happened to Logan and Jean, and I'd rather nothing happen to anyone else.
Things don't 'happen' tuh Logan. Logan's a thing that 'happens' tuh other people. They're fine. So'm Ah. Ah know how tuh fly under the radar, in a manner a'speakin'.
If you're sure . . .
Hundred percent.
Then stay ready. The situation is tense, and trouble could break out at any moment. Can I count on you?
Sure thing. Just say the word.
Thank you. For the time being, stay away from the courthouse. Magneto and I have agreed to keep the same number of personnel on site, and if he sees you he may demand to increase his contingent.
Ah'm not far away, but Ah'll stay put for now.
Excellent. Is there anything you'd like me to tell Gambit?
No, sir. We've said all we're gonna, Ah think.
Are you certain? I'm starting to worry about him, too.
Rogue set her jaw. Don't you worry, Professor. Ah'll take care of him.