"All right! You got her!" Lexington cheered as they landed on the rooftop beside them.
"You guys alright?" Broadway asked concernedly, trying to read Angela's expression.
"We're fine," Angela assured him, and Brooklyn nodded.
"I thought I told you not to approach her," Goliath scolded them.
"It was unavoidable," Angela explained, "She caught sight of us."
"Any idea what she was up to?" he asked them and they both shrugged.
"She wasn't doing anything in particular when we found her," Brooklyn explained, "Angela took a weapon off of her, but it was a small one compared to what she's usually packing." Goliath looked at Demona sternly but seemed to conclude that attempting to get any truth out of her would be futile.
"Come. Let's get her back to the castle," he directed, his exhaustion apparent in his voice.
"The castle?" Brooklyn asked anxiously, "We're not going to keep her there."
"We are for now, at least." Brooklyn appeared very displeased by this news, but he didn't argue. Lexington came forward with a device shaped like a rectangle with a hollow center.
"Get her to kneel," he directed Broadway and Angela and they pulled her into a kneeling position while he pulled the device into two pieces and fastened each tightly around the base of each of her wings.
"There," he said proudly, "Now if she tries to get away, all we have to do is push this remote trigger and the cable will pull her wings closed and she won't be able to glide. They're like handcuffs, for wings!"
"Cool, Lexington," Broadway congratulated him.
"Yeah, I figured we would just hogtie her like they do in those westerns," Brooklyn added, "But this is a lot easier." Demona flexed her back muscles and peered over her shoulder at the device curiously, but still remained silent.
"Enjoy the trip, Demona," Brooklyn sneered, "It's the last time you'll be free to glide anywhere for a long time."
Demona ignored his taunt and went along with them to the castle without incident. Once they landed, Goliath firmly took her by the shoulder and guided her into the great hall, where Xanatos greeted them with an arrogantly insincere warmth.
"Why, look! Demona's back!" he exclaimed with a broad smile. Demona smirked.
"Good evening, Xanatos," she replied with venomous sweetness, "Are you surprised to see me?"
"Not at all, actually. Goliath informed me before he left that we might be having you for a while. Owen's already busy preparing your room for you."
"My room?"
"But of course! Stainless steel walls, high voltage bars, the finest in modern psych ward adornment, and the T.V. gets all the cable stations."
"Oh Xanatos, you spoil me," she exclaimed sarcastically.
"Tisk, tisk! Only the best for the prisoners in this house, Demona," Xanatos chuckled and to everyone's surprise, she seemed mildly entertained by his idea of wit.
"You're an odd character, Xanatos," she laughed, "Amusing, if nothing else."
"I'll take that as a compliment, and I'll leave you all to your conversation which promises to be both awkward and depressing. Perhaps I'll come by in the morning and we can do coffee or something? Catch up on old times. Good-night."
As Xanatos departed, Demona turned around to find the entire clan staring at her in a mixture of confusion, disgust, and complete emotional exhaustion.
"Sit there," Goliath barked at her and she did as directed.
"All of you," he invited, and the others gathered around the table as well. He pressed his great claws on the top of the table and braced himself as if he was a gladiator preparing for the battle of his life. He remained this way for nearly a minute, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was low, dark, and trembling with rage.
"I don't even know where to begin with you. You faithless, traitorous, conniving, soulless little wretch."
"Does she have to be here for this?" Demona interrupted urgently, in a voice that was almost a plea. Taken aback, Goliath turned and looked at his daughter, as if to ask if she truly wished to be present. Broadway touched her arm, "We don't have to stay," he assured her.
"I'm not going anywhere," Angela responded resolutely.
"Very well, then," Goliath concluded and returned his attention to Demona.
"You have betrayed us in every way imaginable," he accused, "You have destroyed our clan, all who loved you and put their trust in you to protect them, with your traitorous fear and need for vengeance."
"Don't-
"Silence!" he spat at her, "You traded their innocent lives for your senseless hatred of humanity." Demona's protest crumbled into silence. She stared in space as he continued, helpless to do anything but endure it.
"Since then, you have committed atrocity after atrocity, without even the slightest hint of remorse. You've ruthlessly murdered the innocent. You've routinely attempted to destroy the lives of your own. You've lied. You've stolen. You've shattered every vow of love you ever made to me to the extent that I can only question if they were ever genuine in the first place. You've violated the very laws of nature. You've stolen our blood and our identities. You've mercilessly disturbed the rest of our poor dead siblings in a sick, irreversible experiment of the worst witchcraft imaginable. You've reduced the lives of the few remaining members of our clan, whom you once cherished, to mere cannon fodder in the warfare you've created in your own mind, or else expendable obstacles to your plans that you would callously annihilate. You treasonously accuse me of choosing the humans over the welfare of our clan, but what have you done yourself if not chosen your hatred of the humans over our clan? And foolishly, you constantly choose this vendetta even over your own soul! With every horrific crime you've committed, you've sacrificed another piece of yourself and everything good and pure that you once were. If I could have known the monster you were capable of becoming, I would never haveā¦" His words hung in the air. He couldn't bear to speak them out loud, but he could see from the pain in her eyes that she had heard them nonetheless. She said nothing in response, but only stared emotionlessly past him, into a darkness that only she saw.
There was nothing more to say to her, so he turned away in disgust and addressed the clan.
"Xanatos seems confident that he can provide a prison that will hold her," Goliath informed them.
"Great," Brookyn commented, "Can it be at the South Pole?"
"Be serious, lad," Hudson pleaded gently.
"I am serious. I don't want her here."
"The closer she is," Goliath reasoned out loud, "The easier it will be to manage her."
"Yeah, but the further away she is," Brooklyn argued, "The easier it would be to forget she exists."
"Unfortunately, we don't have that privilege. She is a serious threat to anyone in her path, if she should escape. We have a responsibility to protect the world from her."
"Then let's make sure we put her somewhere she can't escape, and then leave her there to rot."
"Brooklyn, no!" Angela pleaded.
"What? It's not like it would kill her. She's immortal. She doesn't need food or water or anything to survive. She doesn't even need to sleep. She said so herself."
"That's too cruel," Angela insisted.
"Whoever said serving justice was supposed to be a good time?" he replied bitterly.
"I didn't think you could be that spiteful, Brooklyn." Demona seemed to have recovered from the tirade she had received from Goliath and was now watching Brooklyn intently.
"Well, you have that effect on people."
"Is that the answer I was looking for before, then?" she demanded, rising from the table, "Is that how you will extract the appropriate amount of suffering from me, to meet your standards of justice? To be locked away in an Antarctic prison? But would that be enough? Perhaps it should be a coffin with no light or air? But even that would be insufficient. My crimes cry out to heaven for justice. You could impale me with rods? Burn me alive in an eternal fire? Program robots to beat me senseless every hour on the hour?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm now as she taunted him. Brooklyn glared at her with open contempt. He clearly resented being mocked and found wanting in mercy by a convicted genocidal maniac.
"I'd like to take that candlestick and beat you senseless right now," he threatened. Demona's eyes narrowed at the threat, and her gaze fell upon one of the extravagantly large silver candlesticks that adorned the table before her.
"Really?" she asked no one in particular as she contemplated the object before her. The others exchanged anxious glances, wondering what new horror this mad creature was devising.
"Very well," she said at last. She lifted it from the table and seemed to judge its weight. Determining it to be sufficient, she pulled the wax stub from it and tossed the candlestick to Brooklyn.
"Before I am carted off to live with the penguins, I suppose I might as well have a go at undoing at least one of my many transgressions." She walked around the table and stood with her arms out.
"Let's not prolong this anymore. Here I stand, Brooklyn. Beat me senseless."
Brooklyn scoffed, "There's nothing I'd enjoy more."
"Then do it. Take it from one vengeful wretch to another, there's no point in carrying around all that hate and pain when you don't have to and I'm willing to let you have it out on me. So, go on. Beat me until I'm rendered 'forgivable'."
Brooklyn, thoroughly perplexed, looked from the weaponized candlestick to Goliath.
"He's not going to stop you, my young friend," she jeered, "You have the right."
Brooklyn approached her, still wondering why no one was moving to stop him. He grabbed her shoulder and, turning her away from him, pressed her, face down, against the table with one arm, lifting the candlestick above his head with the other to strike her. He felt her flinch and heard her draw her breath sharply. Behind him, he heard the clan gasp in shock, but still no one moved to restrain him or shouted for him to stop. He stood, frozen for a moment, struggling against painful thoughts and memories, but finally lowered his arm.
"That's right, Brooklyn," she told him softly, "It would never be enough. If you beat me every night for the rest of your life, it would never undo what I've done, and it would only serve to make you like me."
He whipped her around by the arm.
"I will never be like you," he hissed, "And you will never be "forgivable". He can do whatever he wants with you. I'm done." And after carefully setting the candlestick back in its place on the table, and smoothing the table linen, he left.
"He'll be alright," Demona said calmly as she returned to her seat, "Now I want to speak to you alone, Goliath." Goliath sighed but gestured for the others to leave. Still astounded by what they had just witnessed, they all, one by one, rose and left the room. All but Angela, who remained seated at the far end of the table and thoughtfully gazed through a floral centerpiece.
"Will you not go?" Demona pleaded, "I fear what I must say may cause you pain."
"I will not go," was her reply.
"Very well, then." To Goliath she asked, "Why is my sentence not death?" The question clearly surprised him.
"That has never been an option," he growled.
"Can I ask why not? You've provided me with an extensive list of the charges you hold against me. Have I somehow managed to miss something significant in my efforts to offend you?" He snorted at her dark attempt at humor.
"No, you've been most thorough."
"Why did you stop Macbeth from killing me then? Why did you have your policewoman stop me from killing him? We both long to end our suffering. We only squabble over who gets to pull the trigger. I assure you, if you told Xanatos to contact him, we'd be able to end this whole thing in less than an hour, give or take the traffic on the bridge.
Just think, Goliath! You will have met your responsibility to protect your humans from me. You will have avenged everyone for the crimes I have already committed. You needn't even bother about imprisoning me at all, much less deal with the complicated logistics of secretly building a prison at the south pole, which is a highly protected international research area, in case you didn't realize. And perhaps, there may even be a bit of peace in it for me as well."
"Death is not the answer, Demona."
"Oh, what a cowardly, self-righteous response!" she snapped back at him, "You know full well, that no matter how unbearable your life might become, death will come to you in its own good time. I don't have that luxury. If I am to die, I must choose it myself. Now, I demand to know why you refuse to let me choose it now?"
Goliath turned away from her and remained silent. Angrily, she rose from her chair and swept around the corner of the table to lean in his face so he could not turn away from her again.
"Tell me, why!" she demanded, "You said yourself that I am never to be trusted again and all parties seem to agree that the broken remnants of my soul are entirely unsalvageable. What exactly am I to live for, if not merely so you can watch in judgment as I endure the suffering that will never be enough to redeem me in your eyes? And if that vengeance is the only reason you want me alive, how are you any better than Brooklyn? Or myself for that matter?"
Goliath still refused to look Demona in the eye, but he replied with forced calmness, "I need time to consider this, before I can decide what is to be done." She backed away from him slowly.
"As you know, I have no limit on time."
It was then she noticed the muffled sounds of Angela weeping and Demona's expression changed into a wince when she saw her daughter's tears and trembling shoulders.
"I wish you had left when I asked," Demona told her, "I didn't want to hurt you. But it had to be said."
"Please, Mother," she whispered, rising and placing her claws on her shoulders, "I want to help you. Let me help you."
"I am trying," was her answer as Goliath led her to the prison cell that Xanatos had prepared for her.
