Desperado Chapter 22: Trial and Error, a mortal kombat fanfic

Chapter 22
Once Upon a Time in The West
Part 4
Trial and Error

Erron's eyebrows rose with cynical curiosity when he pushed his way to through the doors of the People's Tribunal to find that the court building was not as quiet as he assumed it would be. Voices bounced off the dome's interior like a choir singing in a massive Catholic cathedral. However, he didn't feel any warm feelings of sanctuary walking into the sable black room. He honestly would have mistaken the building for the dreary dungeon or catacomb, if not for the actual presence of sunlight that streamed in from the arched open windows that circled the entire dome like a band overhead. 0

He looked over the tip of his hat to glance briefly at the marble top that was as bleak as a sheet of paper, but probably worth more than the cost of all the stones used for the construction of the building combined. Black's blue eyes climbed down from the marble center and over each brick like rungs on a ladder. He couldn't make out the material, but every stone looked like basalt that had prospected from the cavity of a dead volcano and chipped down to resemble ordinary masonry. In his honest opinion, it made the building look more cheaply built.

Eventually, his gaze focused on the obvious attention grabber of the entire lobby, sandwiched between the arched doorways beneath and brick walls above. Just like the windows wrapped around the whole structure, underneath was an extensive section of spacing that was nothing but an ominous canvas of sculptures carved into the walls. Seven separate murals in total circled the lobby, and despite what they represented, were similar in theme. Menacing charcoal snakes detailed carefully to the last scale, slithered along the walls and devoured the guilty chiseled evildoers. Each stone drawing represented one of The People's Law illustrated in haunting detail with each punishment more melodramatic the more severe the crime was. It was nothing but a scare tactic, carved for the audience waiting in attendance by the back wall on the wooden waiting bench.

Ignoring the paintings made by an over-enthusiastic sculptor, Erron's eyes walked around the lobby and stopped at each door on the main level. Even with the doors shut, he could still make out some of the frenzied and heated shouting coming from the various rooms. At least, he had finally found the source of the sound that bounced off the dome like a wasp's nest. The mercenary looked around the room and frowned behind his mask as he looked back at the various Outworlders waiting on the bench behind the receptionist's desk in the middle of the lobby. Everybody could hear what was going on in each closed room, and he immediately disliked the lack of privacy and confidentiality he thought everyone was obliged to. It also didn't help cool his nerves when he eyed every male body stationed outside the large wooden doors.

The mercenary wondered for a moment if the guards on post by the locked rooms were being paid handsomely to keep quiet about what they overheard going on in each chamber, or they wanted to keep their heads. It only took him a second to figure out it was the latter, and he wondered how many had been beheaded for revealing delicate information — or falsely accused of doing so. Just from his general first impression, he had to guess that employment in the People's Tribunal was temporary than working in the Vaults, which was yet another reason why he preferred the prison. By the look on each guard's faces, they seemed to dislike their job as well since it was apparent they knew of the thin string they hung by. No wonder they all looked more tensed than bored.

Black's derisive stare landed on the rooms one by one and read each of the dark wooden plaques that hung overhead each door: Property, Acquisition and Notarization, Marriage and Divorce, Theft, Violence, Murder, Treason. The mercenary was surprised he didn't make the connection before, but each sculpture that was over the door was connected to what the room dealt with. For instance, the fourth door, which was Theft, depicted a man who held a handful of gold in his hand. They fell from his open palm like snow frozen in time as the stone thief's face screamed in startled fear as the large python opened its fanged mouth over his head, hissing at the gold in the man's hand. Written on the belly of the snake was one of People's Law: "Those that commit theft shall be put to death."

Black rubbed his palm against his forehead and sighed tiredly, trying to smooth the headache that began to pound against his head as the discombobulated shouting traveling around the hollowed building, continued to buzz annoyingly like ghosts in a mausoleum.

Perhaps mausoleum was befitting since he felt as if he was stepping off of Charon's boat and trespassing into a baroque-decorated Purgatory. Sitting in the middle, in his wooden island with organized parchments stacked like stones in a castle's keep on opposite sides of him, was the stressed and bitter boatman himself. Black wondered what the wiry, black-robed Outworld elder had on his mind besides trying to talk himself out of, he sat with his chin in his hands and his coffee-colored eyes narrowed in discontent at the rolls of papyrus. His sharp, sunken eyes shot up as the mercenary approached the desk and he raised a single eyebrow in aggravated impatience before malignant recognition spread across his face.

"Kotal Kahn's most infamous Guard." His rough, gravely voice scraped over Erron's skin like rocks cascading down a jagged mountainside. As his mouth moved, Erron felt a rancid mixture of blood and mint hit him that not even his mask could guard against. The old man reminded him of someone long ago from Earthrealm, both in appearance and mannerisms, but it only made Erron hate the man in front of him even more.

There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile
He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile
He brought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse
And they all lived together in a little crooked house

Black hadn't thought of that rhyme in years, but just looking at the old man, brought it rushing back to his mind.

"They are not ready," he gruffly told him, "take a seat with the others and you will be called shortly by the guard outside room 4."

Erron's eyes followed where his pointed his bony hands towards the door and the guard outside. Behind the ill-tempered receptionist's long gray-haired head, the gunslinger looked behind him to see a few Outworlders seated on the waiting bench by the back wall all staring at him with displeasure when they overheard the lobbyist proposal to sit with them. The feeling was mutual. The Outworld girl seated on the bench by an older gentleman at her side, sunk as far she could into her seat as her eyes widened in trepidation at him, as if fearing he was going to storm over to the bench and plug her between the eyes just for being in the same room with him.

The old man regarded him with a sarcastic grin, and the green leaf he had been chewing on, glistened grotesquely around ashen gray teeth. Though it reminded him of chewing tobacco, something he never felt repulsion looking at, he curled his lip up in disgust from behind his leather mask as his eyes refused to avert from staring at it. Glancing back at the receptionist with indifference, he blatantly remarked: "I think I'll stare at the wall."

The marksman didn't comment but departed from the desk with small glower clouding in his eyes before he turned towards the stone panorama. Giving his back to the desk, Erron retraced his steps back towards the door, making sure he was far away from the gawking pedestrians on the bench and the bitter employee at the desk. Black felt annoyance prick at his skin like needles, even thought he tried to ignore it, he could feel every pair of eyes on him. He didn't have to glance back to know what they were thinking, he had seen it before he approached the desk.

They looked at him like a wolf who had been raised to act like a dog; he was no threat at the moment, but it didn't help ease their nerves that the slightest offense could trigger him to attack. In all honesty, he felt like the equivalent of a circus exhibit. They all knew he didn't belong in the People's Court because of his high station as Emperor Kotal Kahn's bodyguard but there was nobody that agreed as passionately as Erron Black.

The corner of Black's mouth flicked up in irritation as he crossed his arms over his chest. Erron could feel their eyes on the back of his head, silently trying to figure out the reason he was summoned like the rest of the common folk on the bench. there was a thin man in rags, an graying prim dressed man wearing red and black silk robes, a young couple giddy with naïve hope of the future, and the little girl he would guess around ten years if they were in Earthrealm and her guardian who looked as if they had no relation to one another.

The gunslinger peered over his shoulder when he heard the faint humming coming from the latter pair. It grew louder in his ears but distant, like someone calling out to him in a deserted cobblestone tunnel. The ghost of the rhyme he heard as a child haunted him, and regrettably, he found the lyrics to the wordless tune he was hearing.

The crooked man came again at the stroke of twelve
That was when their crooked life became a living hell
There was a crooked man and he walked a crooked mile
And when he killed his wife and kids he smiled a crooked smile

The song extorted an image he had tucked away and wanted to forget. A little girl, wearing her best white dress stained with blood, a blue ribbon that had once been tied in a bow, now unraveled in the dirt along with her dark, curly hair, dead blue eyes that stared up at him while the old man fled down the dirt road in the dead of the night...

Black snapped out of it, and shot a stern gaze at them that was meant as a hint that he didn't appreciate the noise, but his steely look faltered when he looked down at the girl.

Instead of anxiety, there was nothing but fearlessness. Instead of huddling back into her seat, she sat as rigid as a scarecrow on its wooden post. It turned out he had also been mistaken about her being a part of the conversation; it was the other adults that had been talking about him, whispering around her and oblivious to the sudden, ominous change in her disposition. He damn well knew he heard humming, however. Her demeanor wasn't the only thing he had noticed had changed and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, despite the strong resolute expression he regarded her.

Like sunlight hitting glacial ice, her blue eyes gleamed brightly with furtive humor at him from across the room. The girl stared at him like a book she already knew the ending to, and it momentarily unnerved him just like the sudden and drastic hue change in her eyes had. A sly smile curved across her face at him like a painter's brush stroke, one he would have mistaken for as a friendly gesture if not for the way her eyes, almost strategically, left his and scaled up towards the mural hanging over 'Violence.'

More out of curiosity, his own blue eyes followed towards the mural. The sharpshooter looked at the sculpture, sponging in every detail to unearth why the blue-eyed girl wanted him to look at this one in particular. Unlike the other Laws, Violence was vague and the paragraphs on the snakes muscled side helped clarify why the serpent reared up at the dangerous stone men who looked up in fright at the Leech Python who exposed its fangs and fanned its sides out like a cobra as its large body shielded the women and children from the men were trying to get to before the snake intervened; sheltered from their wrath and hidden behind the serpents' own.

"All Free People have the right to defend themselves either by the city herself or by Kombat."

Walking past the desk and refusing to acknowledge the guard standing post even though he knew he was staring at him, Erron continued to search for the clue she silently teased. If he didn't know any better, he could of sworn she was challenging him to a game of 'I Spy': "What do I see that you don't?"

There was more to the mural than the snake shielding the innocent bystanders. Another giant python coiled another group of three men, agonizingly squeezing them together in its grasp. Inscribed on its body was: "The wrathful shall suffer the same as the free person they violate or harm."

Just like the stone men in the snake's spiral trap, Black tightened his arms around his chest as an agitated exhale ghosted across the inside of his face mask. The answer to her riddle continued to elude him, and every theory he offered up that it had something to do with the words chiseled on the wall, felt incorrect.

He reviewed the mural again and landed on the woman and the child at her side, hiding behind the muscled coils of their venomous protector. The gunslinger's arms dropped as the answer announced itself as loud as a call from a ram's horn.

The girl in the painting looked exactly like the one on the bench. The answer was as obvious as it was unsatisfying, like the punch line to a lackluster joke. The girl was laughing at a mirror reflection of herself and toying with him in the process.

"The Barristers will see you now," called the smug, gruff voice of the guard outside the Property door. His eyebrows connected into a hard line at the guard's tone that reverberated around every square inch of the building, as if he was trying to let every single plebian know that he, Kotal Kahn's guard, was truly being called to a People's Court.

Looking over his shoulder, he projected his annoyance at the guard dressed in black at the door. The stocky guard's coily, greasy hair hung framed his silent arrogant demeanor at Black's discontent expression. Despite the far distance across the lobby that separated the mercenary and guard, it would have been easy to kill the distance and pistol whip the look off his face before he knew Erron Black was even on him. It was the second time in mere minutes he had been the subject of childish provocation, and his temper bristled.

Regardless, he walked calmly towards the guard and the door, although the thought of grabbing the sentry by the neck and kneeing him to the face was a tempting image. It was petty and beneath him, so instead he opted with a placid stride in retaliation. The guard frowned at him as he approached, aware that he had not gotten a reaction and stabbed at the Earthrealmer's ego the way he had hoped.

Erron stopped in his tracks as he tried passing the front desk, and a bony hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. Immediately, the gunslinger's revolver was cocked back and the barrel aimed at the skeletal secretary. The commoners on the bench jumped, except the little girl that had fallen asleep and the older man was having trouble rousing her awake. The guard pulled his sword from the scabbard at his hip and barked a command at him that he didn't hear, mainly because he was staring into the cerulean eyes of the receptionist— the same eyes as the one on the little girl just moments ago.

"I see you in the mural as well, Erron Black," the old man chimed with teasing smirk. The gunslinger's eyes narrowed in displeased confusion at the blue eyed demon now speaking through the old man. The light azure eyes sparkled with a playful intellect like a sphinx: "Which one do you think you still are? The vice, or the shield?"

Without averting his devilish gaze, the possessed receptionist hummed the nursery rhyme at him.

"What the hell do you want?" the gunman growled impatiently at the specter.

The elder counterperson blinked his eyes, and the split second he opened them, the cerulean was gone and brown glared at him with impatience; the guard was at his side with the sword in his hand.

"I said: You will leave your weapons at the desk before entering the room," he demanded as his cold eyes stabbed at him. His wrinkled his ring finger, reached inside his bottom lip, and fished out the chewed leaf before he rolled it into a wet ball and tossed it into the small clay pot by his feet on his side of the desk. With his fingers coated in his own saliva and tiny particles of the masticated mint, he held his palm up towards the hired gun and curled his fingers at him like a tarantula on its back.

"Remove your firearms, or Oyuun will do so for you," the clerk repeated with the side of his lip curled up. The guard, Oyuun, made a move for the lone gun still in Black's holster. Without removing his gaze from the lobby's receptionist, Black had his other revolver out of his holster, pulled the hammer back and pointed it at the guard who wilted and stopped dead in his tracks as Erron placed the tip of the revolver under his chin.

"No one removes 'em but me," The mercenary warned with a dangerously low tone. Black could feel the tip of the gold gun's barrel bounce as the guard clenched his teeth with indignation.

With a conceited gloat shining in his eyes as he looked briefly from the startled spectators on the bench, the un-entertained man at the desk and the worried guard, he smiled like a sly fox under his mask and un-cocked his revolvers. Spinning them back into his holsters, his fingers traveled to his belt and unbuckled it as his eyes stared bluntly into the dissatisfied older man.

Black removed his belt and placed it on the desk, but not before removing his hand from the sand grenades on the back of the belt. His hat tipped towards the old man like an angry bull as his eyes drilled into him like a blunt screw.

"If I find a speck of green on them, dirt will be the next thing you'll be gnawin' on," he threatened with deadly sincerity.

Lifting his foot up quickly, he snatched the knife handle inside his boot and buried the tip into the wooden table faster than they could blink. Both men, as well as the people on the bench, jumped as soon as the steal knife nailed itself into the wood. The Outworlders regarded him with rattled but adverse looks as they all tried to decipher the meaning to Erron Black's sudden spectacle.

The Earthrealm bodyguard shrugged as he castigated each of them with a haughty gleam in his eyes. "You didn't ask, but I'm sure you'd want the knife as well?"

None of them said anything, even though he did hear the gray-haired receptionist scoff as Black walked with the guard towards the room. Even if the moment was brief, and it ended the moment he stepped foot through the wooden door of the Property's trial room, Erron felt the weight of his preeminence all around the room and on each of their shoulders. He had reminded them he was no peasant, he was not on the same level as them even if they were in the same judicial predicament, and he would not allow himself to let them judge him as lowly as they were.

Internally gloating about reminding them how high his station was above them, however, was short-lived, when he recalled the demon and its words to him. The Kahn's hireling, glanced over his shoulder at the mural once again before the door closed. "I see you in the mural as well, Erron Black. Which one do you think you still are? The vice, or the shield?"

He was damn sure that he didn't see any granite men wearing a Stetson, so that left the snakes. All it did was leave him with even more questions: What was it getting at calling him a snake? What was the point of the goddamn stupid question? What did, and how did, that thing know about Sallie and 'The Crooked Man?' His real name was Victor Böhnisch, but he preferred to call him what the Sallie had called him because of how accurate it had been. He was crooked, inside and out and she had not been the first one to find that out, but she was the last.

Luckily, he didn't have to ponder on Sallie and the Crooked Man for too long, he never did anyway, and saved the puzzle for a later time as the door closed behind him, and he joined other five people waiting for him in the room.

The room was smaller than what he would have expected, and the people that occupied the desks made the onyx colored room even more claustrophobic. The Barristers seated at the long dark table in the middle of the chamber, in front of the window with torches adjacent on both sides, looked at him with stoic faces.

All three of them dressed identically in black robes with evergreen sashes that draped across their chest from their shoulder to their hips. Each of them were vastly different in appearance and age, but all three of them looked at him with complete equal antipathy like he was looking at Cerberus, instead of three separate individuals.

At the far left end, the thin Edenian kept his angular face as still as a wooden puppet carved for eternity to be melancholy. The young, handsome, chiseled face seemed completely out of place amongst his older co-workers as his brown eyes stared diffidently at him. He looked more like an apprentice than a qualified litigator.

Erron's eyes slid over to the Barrister in the middle, a much older Edenian, who he couldn't help notice, reflected some of the younger Barrister's facial features despite how much his wrinkles tried to cover the resemblance. This Edenian regarded him like a seasoned mongoose sizing up a juvenile cobra, and his sharp, calculating eyes already informed Erron that there was an unimpressed opinion about the Kahn's guard dancing around in his head.

Immediately, Black knew the Barrister in the middle was his least favorite of the three. The older Edenian derisive eyes never left his as the Barrister raised a palm and smoothed back the right side of his head and over the silver patch of hair that wrapped from ear to ear around his head like a Roman laurel crown, before his slick onyx colored hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The man looked like a damn badger dressed in silk and the only simple impression that Black could come to about him, was that he was probably a complete prick.

The last Barrister, seated on the far right, held no resemblance to the other two and was older than both of them by far. This man was undoubtedly an Outworlder since he lacked the clean patrician appearance of the other two males. The portly man glanced at him briefly, and Erron noticed that his hickory colored eyes were as tired and lifeless as rotten autumn leaves. His large fingers scratched his greasy scalp and unknowingly tugged a few brown and white strands from the knot tied tightly at the back of his head. With his exhausted eyes still fixed on the paper he had in front of him, he lifted his fingers to his teeth and chewed on his dirty fingernails like a beaver with a piece of timber.

Out of all of the counselors he had before him, Erron's only hope was the fat one who seemed to regard him with the most unbiased opinion— mainly because he didn't look like he gave a damn if he was an Earthrealmer or not. The Mongoose was the easiest to read out of all of them, and all he did was reaffirm Erron's prediction that they would find him guilty before even stepping foot into the room. The Puppet to his left would no doubt agree with every decision his elder Edenian made, and the Beaver would agree just because he was guilty.

To his right, he could already feel Tama's snide smile on him even though he ignored her as if she and Hulin were not even in the room. Black, however, did turn towards their direction and narrowed his eyes at the Edenian torturer. His cynical blue eyes met his as the gunman flashed him a disapproving look. What was he doing here? At Tama's right side, Hulin replied with an indifferent shrug before Erron shook his head lightly and turned away.

No one spoke as the marksman's eyes dropped to the floor in boredom as he crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his shoes and then let his eyes wander over the gray slate floor of the office. To his left, his eyes stopped roving when they landed on the pair of rusted iron manacles and the chains that were screwed into the floor.

Despite that the shackles had escaped his notice up until now, what hadn't was Norah's lack of presence in the room — which he assumed who they were all still waiting for. He couldn't help but be bothered by how ominous it felt that she wasn't in the chains, scathing at him and alive, then missing from the court. After all, the entire thing was about her. It was only logical that she be present as well.

Standing in the room in silence, Black let out a sigh as he tapped his fingers to an internal beat impatiently against the side of his thigh. An uncomfortable silence hovered over the room, making the air as dense as a pile of hard packed snow. The muscles in his jaw twitched as he raised a demanding single eyebrow at the Barristers, silently prodding for an answer. What the hell were they waiting for?

A knock at the door behind him caused him to glance over his shoulder the same time the older Edenian Barrister called out: "Enter."

The first sound he heard wasn't the door opening, or the sound of shuffling feet or the door creaking on its hinges, although he really wished it had been any of those things. The first sound he did hear, the one that frown heavily behind his mask, was noise of the enslaved girl's painful gasp as she entered the room.

It was the first time he recalled since meeting her in the tavern, that she didn't regard him with malice in her demeanor. Black would have preferred malice, anything that would have indicated she was in her usual state of mind when they crossed paths. All he saw was torment written on every inch of her face, and he wasn't only referring to the red and black tender spots that had been painted on her face — and recently by the looks of it.

Black didn't want to think it, but as he looked at her and noted her strange almost improvised attire that consisted of a dirty moss green blanket with holes for her neck and arms, and tied with a rope around her waist, the only conclusion he could reach was that she had been sexually attacked. However, it was only her torso that was covered with a makeshift poncho. Her skirt was torn, revealing her bare feet and one of her legs poking through the long slit, and because he didn't see any red hand-shaped bruises on the inside of her thigh or blood trailing down the inside, he reconsidered his previous thought, especially when she finally did look him in the eye.

Her green eyes, heavy with terrified tears but still cognitive about what was going on, looked at him briefly before her face twisted in anger as she let out a bitter scoff from her swollen lips. Black could almost hear her thoughts: "Not you again."

She disclosed to him that it was exactly what she was thinking by sharply raising her eyebrows before lifting the back of her hand towards her chin to wipe the trail of blood that ran from her cut bottom lip. All it did was leave a smeared zig-zag crimson river all along her chin. It was all he needed to get a clear answer: She had been attacked, but not raped; he was certain she wouldn't have been as ornery towards him if she had. Her thoughts would have been still replaying her hell over and over in her mind; trapped in a swirling maelstrom of horribleness. Regarding him with a disdainful disposition would have been the last thing on her mind if she had been seriously violated. Still, it didn't make him feel any better about seeing her in her battered state.

"Was she fucked? Is that why we were waiting as long as we were?"

His fist, the same one that had was clenched since he entered the room, became white-knuckled as his fingernails dug into his palm as Tama's voice sent needles of annoyance pricking at his skin. The bruised baker, the heavy set Barrister, and even the guard that brought her in, shot petulant stares towards the older woman at her callous inquiry. Her complete lack of empathy for her condition was distasteful to the men as it was clearly indifferent to Tama. Even Hulin seemed to disagree with her as a disapproving frown heavily descended across his face. Erron Black looked over at him with a suspicious gaze. The presence of her bruises and attire seemed to disesteem him completely as he looked at her like a hungry, but a snobbish man with a rotten piece of fruit; contemplating if he was hungry enough to dare to take a bite.

The muscles in the Vault guard's square jaw twitched with anger as he looked at the female palace employee with an aversive regard. The Ex-Earthrealmer was actually somewhat surprised by his appearance, out of all the men in the room, he had the most mystery about him, especially as he stilled Norah with a soft but steadying grip on her shoulder when she tried to move towards Tama. He guessed he was a mutt: half Earthrealmer and Outworlder. He could see the mixture of his genetics from his round, experienced russet brown eyes and tanned olive complexion darkened by the Outworld sun. With is opposite hand, the reached across and scratched his dark stubble with his fingernails before he curled his lip at the woman.

"She was not, although your concern is staggering," the spiteful sarcasm in his husky voice was enough for Erron to raise an incredulous eyebrow at. It also hadn't escaped Black's notice, that he had chosen not to put her in shackles and if not for the almost friendly way he held her, he would have simply guessed it was because she was going into irons the minute she walked in the room. So why bother? However, after his statement, he questioned if he didn't manacle her for another reason. What had he missed while he was in the Kuatan Jungle?

"Thank you, Jan Fai," droned the middle Barrister with disinterest. "Escort her to the chains."

Jan Fai simply nodded his head in compliance though his eyes flashed at the Barrister with contempt as he led her down the space that separated the two prosecutors and the defense. Her hair, now tangled with dirt and grease, hung over her face like a funeral veil as she walked past Black, Tama, and Hulin. The Beaver pulled out blank parchments, a quill and a jar of ink the same time the Mongoose had from beneath the desk. The Puppet just stared at Norah's bruises, oblivious to his older relative's stern gaze.

"Take notes, Tooraj," The Mongoose reminded with a disappointed scowl. The younger man nodded, pulled out his own tools and muttered: "Yes Uncle."

"Can we begin now, Azad, now that we are all convened?" questioned the larger Barrister with an impatient huff as he leaned his back against the wooden chair.

Erron glanced over as the guard clicked the final manacled to her wrist. There was hardly any chain length, which forced her to sit on her knees with her ironed wrists hanging limply in her lap. Norah didn't look at Black even though he could tell she was aware of his eyes on her as he stared at her and the young guard. Their thoughts were miles away at the moment, and it wasn't hard to see the bleak embarrassment she felt, but Black still continued to deduce why the guard reciprocated her look.

"Yes, Haker," the Mongoose answered. The gunslinger and Azad regarded each other and Black lowered his eyebrows into a defensive line as his conniving eyes looked the Kahn's bodyguard up and down for a moment before a spiteful half-smile darted on his face. "We can as soon as Mr. Black is presentable."

Black's hands dropped slowly to his hips and hovered his fingertips over where the butts of his revolvers always stuck out of his holsters; he knew they weren't there, but he couldn't help himself. It was a common habitual reflex he used for only two reasons: to be ready to draw and shoot for defense, or because somebody needed a bullet in their head. Erron had been mistaken before: the Barrister wasn't probably a complete prick, he definitely was a complete prick, and it's what the bounty hunter would have written on a bullet intended for him.

"I don't think I heard you," The gunslinger snarled as he grappled his hips casually with both hands.

The Barrister that had offended him regarded him with an unimpressed smile as his eyes took note of the placement of his hands.

His stance was authoritative and cocksure, and the Barrister snorted at it. "You are not in the Kahn's court, Mr. Black, you are in the People's Court. Highly regarded as you may be to the Emperor, as soon as you passed through those doors, you are one of the people of Outworld. Your title holds no weight, and you will abide the rules as everyone else must. It is simply courtesy."

Even though his voice was strong and sturdy, the gun for hire breathed hotly through his nostrils. "You wanna make your goddamn point?" He could see the amusement in his eyes, and he wished he had his guns at the moment so he could put a bullet right between them.

"We are all equal here, Mr. Black,"— Azad glanced over at Norah—"Even slaves. For you to acknowledge that you respect this court, we ask that you willingly present it to us. As I said before: You are not in the Kahn's court, and you will stop hiding behind your occupation and present yourself as a compliant participant to our rules."

Erron already had his nasty comeback prepared to leave his lips and would have gotten it out if not for the Outworlder who was just as exasperated with the egotistical weasel as much as Black was.

"Enough prattle, Azad, I do not have the patience for your voice today," Haker intervened thankfully. He addressed Black with a straightforward tone: "He means the mask and the hat. He likes to be able to read people as we judge him — it upsets him when he can do neither. He also despises hats."

Black scoffed lightly at the simple explanation but enjoyed the hell out of how quickly Azad's face turned red as he turned and regarded Haker. The Outworlder didn't look at him and didn't care about how furiously he stared at him. All Haker whispered to him as he picked up his quill was: "At least pretend to act like a Barrister for your nephew."

The amusement he derived from their obvious rivalry was short-lived as Azad turned his sour glare towards Black — waiting. He casually lifted his hat off his head, before his fingers went to unclasp the mask quickly but calmly. He refused to express how much he disliked being forced to remove both, especially when it was for such a stupid reason.

With his face revealed, steely and reserved much to Azad's disappointment, he placed his leather mask inside his hat. "Could have just said so. Would have been easier than the bullshit you were jawin' on about."

Without looking, he tossed his upside down hat at the guard by Norah like a horseshoe. Jan Fai caught it easily, and as soon as he did Erron nodded sharply at him: "Don't wrinkle it."

Erron placed his hands in his pockets and lifted his chin. "Can we start now?" The mercenary grumbled before he picked up his eyebrows at the red-faced Mongoose. "Or do you want the poncho and boots off too?"

Haker suppressed a cough in his throat that sounded suspiciously like an airy chuckle. Tooraj shuffled in his seat and rolled the white spine of his blue feathered quill anxiously between his fingertips.

Azad said nothing, but there was a silent promise of revenge for his discomfiture as he picked up his pen. "We will begin by addressing the allegation brought forth by Tsho Tama. Barrister Tooraj will notate that both conflicting parties are present in person as well as write down their responses to the Tsho's allegations. You will also record the names of the other parties in attendance— who will state their names for the record now."

Tooraj nodded towards Hulin first, and it was the only time the boy seemed confident about anything he was doing.

"Han Shun Hulin," addressed the fellow Edenian simply.

"Occupation and relevance to this case?" Tooraj questioned.

"Palace employee and witness," Hulin answered. There was silence except for the sound of pen scratching before Tooraj nodded towards Jan Fai. Before the younger Barrister could ask, Jan Fai gave him a cynical frown and raised an eyebrow; as if quietly berating him before he even asked the question.

"Jan Fai, Vault Guard and prisoner overseer. Also, the prisoner is present as well," Tooraj mumbled to himself as he scrawled the quill over the parchment. Norah's lip curled up in anger.

"Barrister Haker, you will read the allegation aloud, now," Azad informed with a mellow tone, his quill pen ready to take notes. "Then we will discuss the validity between the two parties and conclude with a final decision."

Haker peeled his back from his wooden chair and sat upright. His fingers reached for the parchment as the Edenian boy continued to write every action taking place within the room with attentive discipline. Black's hand began to hurt just watching him write so fast and wondered how he could write so neatly without smearing ink all over the page.

"Submission of allegation dated 16 days before court appearance— due to the accused, Erron Black, absent from on assignment from the Emperor. The document was filled out by the plaintiff, Tsho Tama. Offense done to the plaintiff was one of property theft. The property in question is a female indentured servant who signed a contract with the plaintiff. The contract was notarized by the Court. We have the contract present, which I will now read out loud."

Haker moved his papers around the desk and pulled one up to eye level. His huge fingers gingerly handled it, and the look on his face when he flipped it over, made him look as anxious as a drunk manhandling delicate porcelain. Black didn't blame him; the paper was abnormally brittle and thin, almost transparent. The rain clouds that had hovered above him on his journey here had already begun to depart the desert city, and the sun blazed through the window, onto the paper and inflamed the black words written on the other side.

The fragility of the document was odd, but it wasn't until he glanced in Norah's direction, and saw the confusion that unfolded across her face, did Erron consider that perhaps it was too odd, to be something he could brush aside.

"This Indenture and signature authenticates that between the grantor party, Norah, and the grantee party Tsho Tama, has agreed to voluntarily put herself of her own free will and accord to become servant to Tsho Tama and the requisites detailed in this contract. By signing this agreement, the indebted acknowledges these requirements and her willingness to comply. If the indebted chooses to object to all assigned duties and/or leaves without permission from the contract holder to do so, indebted is no longer seen fit to uphold the terms and conditions of the contract and shall be executed and/or punished in a manner seen fit by the contract holder. These requisites include the following."

Haker cleared his throat. "Indebted shall remain under the employment of the contract holder, provided with food, clothing and lodging for a duration equaling 20 Earthrealm years. At the conclusion of her employment as both a baker and cupbearer in the Kahn's palace, both parties may choose to either extend the contract or terminate it."

So far, Erron noticed that Norah didn't react to what the Barrister had said, which meant there was nothing nefarious about the contract besides how thin it was. At least nothing yet.

"This shall be the duty of the indentured party unless for the following exemptions: If the indentured is able to buy the contract or if indebted is engaged to wed during their time of service, the indebted's husband or wife may choose to buy the contract."

Still no reaction but Erron did notice a definite change in her demeanor when the Barrister continued; her eyes darted back and forth with uncertainty as if the words were alien to her.

"Lastly, and also by signing this contract, the indebted has avowed her chasteness, and with her permission, grants Tsho Tama the approval to sell it to an interested party for a negotiated fee. Henceforth, the indebted will be permanently obligated to fulfill the needs of the purchaser until the indebted's death or surrender of the contract to another vendee."

Black knew instantly the contract was horseshit for two reasons: The baker who had proven to him through her conversations with him to be so stubborn and prude would have never signed a contract with the last statement written on it. She was compulsive, sure, and it caused her to think irrationally when she was angry, but she would have never made such a stupid mistake to prostitute herself willingly, even if Tama dangled death over her head. The other reason was Norah's furious volcanic reaction the moment she heard it.

She flew to her feet so fast it made a fired cannonball look slow, but screamed in frustration when the manacles held her back. With her knees bent and her arms akimbo thanks to the irons, she spat venomous, and colorful words at Tama, Black had never once heard her utter before. It even made the younger Barrister shrink in his chair uneasily just overhearing it all. Erron didn't blame or criticize her for her outburst; it was understandable, and he would have reacted with more than words if he had found out he had been duped.

"That is NOT the contract I signed!" She hollered, her voice beginning to grow hoarse but relentlessly vehement as Tama stared at her with as single raised eyebrow, although her conniving eyes glinted with a winner's smile at her.

Tama shrugged innocently," It is not my fault you did not read it correctly. I did not force your hand."

"You lying bitch!"

"Jan Fai," Azad sighed with exasperation, "Silence her."

The Vault guard came to her side, and as gentle as he could be, he forced her back to her knees with a firm push.

She violently shrugged her shoulder, knocking his hand off: "Let go of me!" she spat, seething as her chest rose up and down with each heated exhalation through her bared teeth. The guard backed away, allowing her space, but stood at alertness in case Norah wanted to spring to her feet again.

"I may not have been part of what they did to you, but you deserved every bit of torment you received," the female Earthrealmer snarled at her with an angry whisper. "Especially after all that you have done to Abigail."

Erron's curious eyes slid over towards Tama's direction, and even he had to admit, he didn't think she was capable of expressing anything that resembled being disquiet. There was a frown on her face, but her eyes betrayed her as she blinked them in rapid succession. For the briefest of moments, before Tama managed to garner her emotions back into her internal Pandora's box, Erron saw trepidation as her mind raced with an unknown reverie that Norah's words had conjured. Black made a mental note to ask the Baker what she meant one day because it certainly stirred his eagerness to uncover the enigma of the 'torment' she referred to.

The corner of his mouth twitched briefly to the side when Norah had acknowledged a missing puzzle piece: the old woman he had also rescued from Tama's tendrils that day. Black didn't need to ponder long on what he suspected had happened to the elderly woman; Norah's rage, her absence and the lack of even the briefest of confessions from Tama that he had taken two items she owned. The mercenary looked over to Norah as her head hung towards her knees and her cradled hands. Teardrops fell from her face, hot and angry and it confirmed what he already knew.

The old woman was dead.

What had happened since he was away?

After silence passed over the room, one that helped swallow the awkward pause that her tantrum had produced, Haker placed Tama's contract aside and picked up another document. Out of all the people in the room, he was the one that showed no reaction to her objection. While everyone else regarded the slave girl with either disdain, melancholy, or in Hulin's empathic casualness, all he did was sit there with a bland disposition while he mentally took notes — and even scribbled a few while Norah had directed her resentment towards Tama.

"The transgression made by Erron Black according to the testimony given by both Tsho Tama and Han Shun Hulin states: Mr. Black removed the servant from the quarters of Tsho Tama, demanded the contract without payment, and threatened the contract holder to hand it over by the time he returned to the palace. Erron Black escorted the servant out of the palace walls and took her to an undisclosed location until she was discovered 2 days prior to the trial trying to exit the city gates. Due to the guidelines of the contract that both parties agreed upon and the eyewitness testimony provided by Han Shun Hulin, it is a property violation based on key arguments: Erron Black verbally informed Tsho he refused to pay for the contract and that the servant did not complete her service, left the palace without the permission of her contract holder, nor established any contact with her employer to inform her that she intended to complete her services or pay her debt."

The Barrister continued, picking up the paper to eye level. "The plaintiff, Tsho Tama, is seeking reparations against both Erron Black, and her servant who Tsho accuses was an accomplice since she 'willingly departed with Mr. Black' and therefore, broke the terms of her contract."

Azad smiled darkly, "Mr. Black," he began, his name spat at him sourly as they left his lips. "Do you have any evidence to bring forth that disputes the accusation that you stole property without the approval of the contract holder?"

"I did not break my contract — because that was not the contract that I signed!" argued the cupbearer. "And I did not leave with him willingly!"

Erron rolled his eyes. Not the first time, but I didn't hear you hollerin' for me to stop when I got your friend out, either.

He knew he couldn't really berate her for trying to save her own skin, even though Black could sense how hopeless she knew it had to be as well. Her voice was hostile, but there was a sullen meekness that still came through that she couldn't hide. It was almost as if she knew she was wasting her breath, but was still trying to persuade them of her innocence regardless.

Haker raised a single eyebrow in her direction as Azad scoffed dubiously at her. "Yet you did not return back to the palace after Mr. Black forced you to leave. That fact alone suggests that you had no interest in upholding your side of the bargain you struck— especially after you tried departing the city and failed."

Norah turned her head away and clamped her lips together. She had nothing because she knew he was right and felt bitterly humiliated as the Barrister continued to look down and reprimand her like a disobedient child.

"You will not be able to sponge away that mistake, I'm afraid. However, if Mr. Black has evidence that proves you did leave with him unwillingly, then I am content with accepting it, taking it into account so you may have at least one transgression that will not be marked against you."

"Well, Mr. Black. Do you have anything but your word?" Azad raised a single, skeptical eyebrow as he turned towards him.

Black said nothing but stared at him as irritated as a rattlesnake whose tail he stepped on. Both men knew he couldn't answer.

No, Erron had no evidence and knew there was no way to talk or shoot his way out of changing their minds. All he wanted was for them to get to the sentencing; his impatience was already boiled to the brim the more they dragged it out.

Although, Haker's interest in how adamantly she protested the genuineness of the contract, made him reconsider if he should speak up and join her in protest. It was tempting; it was the single string that could unravel Tama's truthfulness and corrupt the Barrister's perception of her and her claim.

His rational thoughts returned though, and the gunslinger knew it was useless. It was pyrite against Tama's bar of gold; her indisputable evidence that could do anything but tip the scale towards her. Azad was already convinced and the Puppet said nothing while he continued to write down what was happening in the room as strictly as a monk in an abbey. The only one left that still doubted the things he had heard and observed turned to the servant in the chains.

"Do you have a copy of this contract that you signed with your employer that a guard can retrieve?" The Outworld Barrister asked her.

It was a plain, simple question that contained no trace of bias towards what he hoped she would answer. Barrister Haker just wanted to scratch off the only discrepancy he could find before he made his decision.

With heavy shame wrinkling her face, begrudgingly, she shook her head before casting her eyes to the ground; a tear dropped and soaked into her skirt. "I was never given a copy of my contract."

Haker jotted down a note with an unconvinced frown the same time Tama smiled briefly in triumph like barracuda that swam upon a wounded fish.

So much for that, Black thought to himself.

Silence once again descended upon the courtroom, except from the Barristers that whispered amongst each other. Erron could tell that the trial was coming to its closure as they looked over their notes. It was a brief deliberation, and when they raised their eyes up from the pieces of paper on the desk they shared, he could tell they were convinced about the verdict. It was time to cut the bullshit— his time had been wasted enough today.

"I already know what's coming," Erron Black declared. With his hands rested on his hips and his spine straight, he nodded his head daringly at the three men sitting behind the safety of their desk and titles— challenging them to take their best shot. "Just get to it."

Azad gave a small roll of his eyes before he turned to his nephew first.

Tooraj raised his right hand and tapped it twice on the desk, filling the room with the soft patter of his palm slapping the wood. Azad turned to Haker, who mimicked the younger Edenian.

The older Edenian Barrister knocked his knuckle against the wood twice and smirked in Black's direction. "All three members of this committee find you guilty, Mr. Black. We will discuss restitutions for Tsho Tama, now."

"You may debate the fairness of them as well. As long as the plaintiff agrees they are acceptable, we will consider them," Haker contributed, his tone blasé. Azad clicked his tongue, almost as if disappointment that Haker had let that information slip. Tama danced lightly from foot to foot in anticipation and smirked like a child who was about to receive a long-awaited gift.

"By request of Tsho Tama," Azad said as he read from the paper on the desk," Mr. Black will escort Tsho's servant back to the Palace, where upon arrival he will pay a sums of 5,000 in gold coins for the time lost when the servant has been away. The servant is to sign a new contract since she voided the last, and will receive one lash by whip for each day lost."

Erron's mouth twisted into a scowl the same time a wide-eyed Norah let out a sardonic and pithy laugh of disbelief. He wasn't certain if she was laughing bitterly about being whipped, or having to sign another contract, regardless she looked about as happy as he was.

Almost as if he had read his mind, Haker slapped his left hand upon the table once and interrupted him before Erron could open his mouth to protest. "5,000 in gold is too much for 16 days of lost wages."

Tooraj also did the same, shrugging mildly as he looked at his uncle. "I agree. At most it should be 100 in bronze according to Tsho Tama's contract. Even if she is a cup-bearer."

Black allowed himself to relax his shoulders as Azad, who knew he was outnumbered, slapped his right hand as well. "Very well. Tsho Tama your reparations have been called into question. Please explain why you should be awarded the sum."

Tama scoffed. "Erron Black can afford it, and I find it suitable."

Black knew exactly why he was being charged 5,000 in gold and why Tama had requested that he escort her back to the Emperor's palace. She wanted both of them to replay the memory of how she arrived in the palace to begin with; it was nothing but a mind game.

Tama had paid him 5,000 in gold to get her, and now she was taking the opportunity to get it back, all the while knowing this time the journey back to the palace wouldn't be as easy on his conscious as it had been last time. Erron hadn't given a damn the first trip but now he knew he was escorting her to a place she dreaded, and it was his fault because he was the one that had tried to liberate her and make up for his previous mistake of taking her there to begin with. He wasn't the only one being punished with repetition, however.

The new contract she would be forced to sign, was Tama's cold dish to Norah that she would have no choice but to choke down a second time. The whipping was nothing but traditional whenever a slave broke their master's word, but Erron couldn't help but shake his head. She could have spared Norah they whip since it was up to the slave's owner whether they wanted it carried out or not. Of course Tama would have not missed the opportunity. It actually surprised him that Tama agreed to allow that punishment. If she was trying to sell her like the contract claimed, she must have known that having a scarred back wouldn't have been appealing. Or perhaps, she didn't care anymore nor did the buyer she already had in mind.

Azad shook his head, unconvinced. "You request is denied. Mr. Black will pay what is due. Are there any objections to anything else proposed?"

Black glanced at the Baker again, studying and trying to decode what she was feeling beyond the first conclusion he came to by just brief observations. Her hunched shoulders were still despite how hard she curled her fingers into white-knuckled fists in her lap. Erron could tell she was fearful, but her bruised body wasn't shaking with trepidation at the thought of the whip's bites, but what laid in her future. The only reason he was able to know this, was because of the way she briefly stared at Hulin.

Norah fidgeted, and she held her breath for a moment when Hulin curled his lips into a smile at her like a jackel before she turned her gaze to the floor. Her breathing began to pick up in speed as if some horrific realization was starting to dawn on her. Black's eyes slid over to Hulin as he lifted his chin, almost as if silently pleased by her terrified reaction. Tama seemed to enjoy it as well, for she let out a barely audible chuckle that only Black and Hulin heard.

They were going to make her life a living Hell—worse than before—and it was because of his stupidity. His posture slumped as he looked back at her, and realized how much of an architect of the second round of her new misery he had become; even if he was being forced to take part in it. Black raised his chin as if defiance against his own thoughts. There was no way to stop her from returning to the palace, but at least he could make it easier on her this second trip, and at least remove one of her burdens.

He was content with this first, painful stepping stone.

"I'll take the lash," Black crossed his arms over his chest. "I think she's already been bashed around enough for one day."

The mercenary pointed a finger at Tama, who looked displeased with his proposal. She opened her mouth, preparing to spit something hateful at him, but he cut her off and pointed a finger at her.

"You ain't gettin' everything you want," he growled as his eyes narrowed scathingly at her. "Even though I think you got more than plenty. You want the 5,000? You got it. You can keep my loose change, you can even fill your tub with it and take a whore's bath in it— I don't give a shit."

Tooraj, who had been taking notes, pen came to a screeching halt across the parchment at Black's words. All three Barristers looked at him and began to doubt what they had heard come from the ruthless, penny-pinching, cold mercenary's mouth. Haker leaned back in his chair and folded his hands into a ball that rested on his stomach. Azad stared at him like an imbecile for a moment, before he sneered as the cogs in his brain and no doubt turned out some malicious thought. Tooraj gulped uncomfortably.

Erron turned to Norah, who could only stare at him with a flabbergasted look, even though there was still skepticism trying to burrow up from beneath the surface of her confusion. Black nodded his head at her and exhaled through his nose before he turned back to the three lawyers, his posture straight as he lowered his hand.

"I forced it on her. I get the whip," The gunslinger said. His voice was stubborn and imposing, even though he was aware they could decline it and there wouldn't be any way to persuade them otherwise.

Barrister Haker looked at the Edenian to his right who sat expressionless although tapped his fingers across the wood to the rhythm of a song he was playing in his head; contemplating. Tooraj fiddled with his thumbs, brushing them back and forth quickly as he looked at the other two Barristers for help.

Tama's eyes darkened as her once furious disposition dwindled and the redness disappeared from her face. Erron scoffed silently to himself. She was always the spider weaving a web to tangle others in, even if she didn't have the best of circumstances to work with. Her quiet plotting was obvious as it was annoying to him.

"Tsho, do you agree to Mr. Black's proposal?" Azad questioned nonchalantly, although it was sprinkled with interest at what her answer would be.

Tama bit her lip for a moment, almost as if she was about to reconsider her quickly devised plan she had made, but shook her head and replied: As long as an Earhtrealmer gets whipped, I have no objection."

Azad nodded his head in approval at her answer. "New restitutions for Tsho Tama will be that Mr. Black pays the original sum proposed and take the servant's place for the lashing. The previous unmentioned indemnities remain in place. Your verdicts, fellow Barristers?"

Tooraj tapped his right hand twice against the desk as soon as he was able to put the pen down. Azad and Haker did the same as well.

As soon as Barrister Haker's fingers left the table. Azad slapped his hands together, clapping as if it was a substitute for an Earthrealm gavel.

"To the Coliseum."