A/N: What do you know? I found a way to update today! Thanks to The Violet Rose and leathman for their reviews on last chapter.

Disclaimer: Yeah, I still don't own anything. Except Merriweather - Merriweather's mine.

Chapter VIII: A Crusade against Injustice

30 October 2998

Mayor Christina Fleming stepped out of her limo and was instantly mobbed by a horde of reporters and photographers. Fleming, always concerned about public image, was happy to pander to the press, even more so today because she wanted to keep the public happy. A happy public would be more likely to support the tax reforms she was trying to push through the city council, and more accepting of the speech she was set to make today regarding the new bill. So Fleming assumed a gracious smile as she wove her way through the paparazzi, answering as many questions as possible with as much poise and reassurance she could muster and posing attractively for several photographs.

Today was the last chance Fleming had to influence the opinions of council members and citizens alike before the tax bill was put to a vote tomorrow. She knew that her strongest detractors believed she was increasing taxes to fund corruption in her government, and that was making her job much more difficult. Fleming had her faults – the primary one being that she was considered too 'pretty' and soft to govern a city – and some of her methods might not be satisfactory, but she was trying her best to keep New Metropolis great. What she needed to do today was convince the public of that.

Accordingly, she had prepared as thoroughly as she could for this day. Already a striking dark blonde and hazel-eyed beauty, Fleming had spruced herself up even more with a tailored teal business suit and black court shoes. Her long hair had been clipped up in a smart ponytail, and she'd chosen simple, understated jewelry to project the image of a woman the middle class could relate to. As she ascended the podium and began to speak, she was careful to keep her face open and pleasant as she enthused about the benefits the new tourism program would have for the city. She ensured too, that her voice reflected her genuine concern and understanding for the plight of the lower-income families, as she pointed out that the tax would not be very much increased and that in the long-term this was a sounder financial idea than several options the trade unions had been suggesting.

She had just started to explain that they would be able to scale back the taxes once increased tourism revenue began coming in when her bodyguard gave an alarmed hiss.

It was the last thing she ever heard.

Amid the startled shouts of shock and horror, Christina Fleming toppled headfirst from the podium, the air already beginning to fill with the acrid odor of burning cerebral matter rising from the laser wound in her forehead.

"I still can't believe the Science Police wouldn't listen to us," Garth was complaining as he poured milk into his bowl of cereal. Rokk was standing by the electronic, smokeless stove, spooning his scrambled eggs onto his toast; Imra was already sitting at the kitchen table with her simple breakfast of a raisin muffin and a latte. "Seriously, what are they – total morons?"

"Garth," Imra reproved, though there was a hint of resignation in her tone – Garth had long since proved that he was strongly and vocally opinionated about the Science Police.

True to form, Garth was not dissuaded from his rant. "Well, who the sprock ignores a warning of an assassination attempt against the mayor? We had some pretty reasonable evidence, too."

"Most of it was speculation," Rokk pointed out as he poured his morning fruit juice. "Rather compelling speculation, true – but speculation nonetheless."

"Still!" Garth continued to fume. "We gave them a solid tip on an ongoing serial murder case, and they still wouldn't listen! How many times…I mean, honestly! Just because we're teenagers doesn't mean we're idiots!" Warning sparkles began to play about the metal spoon he was holding.

"Garth!" Rokk said sharply, as the sparkles grew into small threads of jagged electricity. Garth looked down at the spoon that was beginning to act as a conductor, and with effort managed to rein in the lightning, but he still looked rather heated.

"Well, at least you managed to pull it in that time." Rokk dropped the magnetic shield he'd been holding around the nearest electrical appliances, just in case.

"I need to work on my focus," Garth admitted. He'd been practicing his control over his powers the way Rokk had suggested, by sustaining a constant electrical charge for as long as possible – but though unintended incidents had markedly decreased, he still had to work to restrain the lightning when he was angry.

"What is it with you and Sci-Pol?" Imra wondered.

Garth huffed and didn't answer for a long moment, before he reluctantly said, "They put Mekt in jail on bogus charges."

"What?" exclaimed Rokk, almost choking on his juice.

"Yeah, you heard me. The so-called well-organized galactic police force imprisoned my brother for something he didn't do."

"Didn't he have a trial?" asked Imra. "If he was innocent there should have been evidence to prove it."

Garth scoffed bitterly. "Oh, no, there wasn't a trial. The alleged wronged party was a wealthy socialite who insisted that Mekt was the one who stole her diamond necklace and demanded that firm action be taken against him or she would file a lawsuit against the Science Police. Sci-Pol were under so much pressure they decided Mekt must be guilty. He never stood a chance."

An uncomfortable silence followed Garth's tale, broken only when Imra sincerely offered, "I'm sorry, Garth."

"Me too," Rokk added. "I guess this is why you don't like the Science Police?"

"I'm not their biggest fan, it's true, but generally I don't really have a problem with them," admitted Garth. "I know not all of them are like the ones who arrested Mekt. But times like these when they refuse to listen – well, that's when I get mad, because I remember how those imbeciles didn't listen when we protested Mekt's innocence."

"We can make it right," Imra assured him impulsively. "My father knows the Chairperson of Sci-Pol Amarta. After this whole serial killer business is over I'll lodge a report with him." She sounded absolutely determined to fix things, much like she had when she had first suggested investigating together.

Garth exhaled. "Thanks, Imra, but there's no point."

"Of course there is!" Imra exclaimed. "It might take some time, but I'm certain we could get your brother out."

"Mekt's already out. He engineered his own escape a couple of months back." Garth shook his head, recalling his brother's last angry communique before he'd vanished from Sci-Pol radar. "He wasn't the same person."

"What happened to him?" Rokk was almost afraid to ask.

"Probably running a smuggling ring by now." At Rokk's startled expression, Garth explained, "Before he went off the grid, he commed me and told me he was going to make his own way in the galaxy. He couldn't come back to Winath – they'd track him down in minutes – so he decided to go traveling on his own. He was hopping mad about his jail term, too – said that if Sci-Pol were going to believe he was a thief no matter what he did, he might as well actually be a thief. That's the last I heard from him. I have no idea where he is now."

"Damn," Rokk uttered with feeling. Imra looked as though she agreed.

"Well, anyway," said Garth, brusquely steering the conversation back to current matters, "do you suppose the mayor's security took our warning seriously?" After Chief Norg had shooed the three of them out of NMPD HQ the day before (though not before taking Rokk off the missing persons list and ordering him to contact his anxious teammates, something which had completely slipped Rokk's mind) Imra had contacted the mayor's office directly to leave an anonymous tip.

"Guess we'll find out," said Imra, activating the projector hanging from one corner of the ceiling with a telepathic command; the news screen unfurled in front of the projector instantly, turned to CWTV, the leading news channel for events occurring within New Metropolis. The house was full of such Titanian-made equipment; Garth supposed it was marginally more convenient than asking Merriweather out loud to operate everything. Thinking about Merriweather reminded Garth about a question he'd wanted to ask Imra.

"Hey, Imra, how come we haven't heard anything from Merriweather?"

"What?"

"Well, when you weren't in the house, he wouldn't shut up. He kept adding in his own two cents while Rokk and I were talking. But I never hear him talk when you're around."

"Oh, he's programmed not to speak if Mother or I are in the room, unless we address him directly. There are a few exceptions, of course – such as when he needs to alert us about something – but otherwise he's generally pretty quiet around us. Was he very irritating?" she inquired.

"Just a little," Rokk admitted. "I didn't know AI's could be sarcastic."

"Merriweather has his own personality," Imra conceded. "Merriweather," she said to the AI, "please treat Garth and Rokk the same way you treat me."

"Very well." The electronic tone gave the impression of a sigh.

Imra winked at the two boys and turned to watch the news. CWTV was currently broadcasting live coverage of Mayor Fleming's speech on the front steps of City Hall.

"She has more bodyguards than normal," Imra noted. "That's good – our call made an impression."

"At least they're being smarter than the Science Police," Garth snarked.

The trio watched as Fleming continued her impassioned speech in favor of the tax reform, speaking of her vision for a revived New Metropolis.

"You know, I can sort of see where she's coming from," Rokk remarked. "I mean, she could have gone about it better and I can definitely see the reason why so many people are opposing the tax bill, but it seems to me that she genuinely wants to help the city."

"She's a bit spineless, isn't she?" Garth commented.

"Yes, I think so too," Imra agreed. "Mayor Berkowitz was a much stronger character – he was quite popular during his tenure."

"From the news article it sounded like he was a very fervent political and social activist," said Rokk. "How come he stepped down as mayor?"

"And how did Fleming get voted in?" Garth added.

Imra shrugged. "One of the oddities of life, I suppose. There was a big upheaval during the elections two years ago, and many suspect that there were some political shenanigans going on behind the scenes to help Fleming beat out Berkowitz for the position."

"What, like bribery?" Garth frowned when Imra nodded. "But who would've wanted Fleming to be mayor so badly? She's so…not leadership material."

"Maybe someone wanted her as a puppet," Rokk suggested, drawing stares from the other two. "If we're going by the government conspiracy theory, she would be easy to control."

"Maybe," Imra allowed. "We're not investigating that, though," she reminded them.

"We should review the timeline after this," Rokk said. Garth and Imra nodded their agreement.

Since discovering the 'hit list' in the Botanic Gardens, they had undertaken quite a bit of research into the six murders so far and used their findings to draw up a comprehensive timeline of the case, complete with thorough profiles of all the victims in an attempt to find a common link (besides the fact that they were all rich or famous). They were hoping that this compilation of information would help them crack the case, or at least provide them with sufficient evidence to convince the Science Police of their claims.

None of them was expecting it when the laser beam took out Mayor Fleming in one swift stroke. All three of them jumped in shock – Imra gasped, Rokk swore, and Garth sparked – and then watched in morbid fascination as the cameras panned wide to deliver a more extensive view of the subsequent flood of activity.

"We should have done more," Imra murmured, drawing her knees up holding them close to her chest.

"We did the best we could have done under the circumstances," Rokk disagreed. "We told the Science Police – we tipped off Fleming's bodyguards. It's not our fault the killer got through anyway."

"No." Imra shook her head. "We could have done more." She seemed unable to tear her eyes from the grisly close-up shot of the laser hole in the center of Fleming's forehead.

Garth wordlessly used his little finger to direct a small but potent stream of electricity at the projector to remove the news screen. For once, neither Rokk nor Imra reprimanded him. Though Garth had encountered a similar worldview-altering event before, it was the first time either Rokk or Imra had been exposed to the harsh reality that their best was sometimes not enough; but all three were shaken by the violent evidence that their little investigation had now taken on a grave importance. With NMPD not believing them, they were the only people who knew there was a shooter loose in the city with intent to kill more people (though Garth thought that if they ignored this, they had to be both blind and foolish). It was a sobering thought. When they began their investigation they'd been vaguely aware, somewhere in the back of their minds, that it would eventually lead them to an assassin – but today was the first time they actually registered with full import that they had to catch the murderer to prevent more deaths. It was a burden of responsibility that fell heavily on their young shoulders, despite the fact that Imra had been preparing for it for the past three years, that Rokk was the main breadwinner for his family, and that Garth had probably been the only one out of their trio with an inkling of what they were really in for.

But above and beyond the jolting dose of reality they'd received, the sense of injustice (some left over from Garth's story about Mekt's wrongful imprisonment) rankled keenly; and as the three of them met each other's gazes, a silent agreement passed between them – a resolution to see this through to the end and to save the next victims even if they had to do it by themselves.

"Maybe Sci-Pol will listen to us now," Garth proposed, though he didn't sound too hopeful.

"I don't care if they don't," Imra said decisively. "I'm going to get to the bottom of this. You two with me?"

"Of course," Garth replied instantly.

"Definitely," Rokk responded equally as quickly.

They looked at each other meaningfully, now fully aware of what they had committed themselves to. Then Rokk smiled suddenly.

"Fighting injustice is becoming sort of a theme with us, isn't it?" he observed with some pride.

"Injustice is rampant in United Planets," Garth declared. "If you ask me there should be more people like us."

"Maybe we should find them." Rokk was becoming more animated as all of a sudden his ambition took off in a new direction. "We seem to work well together – we could form a team."

Garth's sky blue eyes lit up. "Now there's an idea."

"An idea that'll have to wait," Imra interjected. "We have to catch this killer first. We can decide what we want to do after that."

"All right," Rokk assented. "Let's get to work."

A/A:

1. CWTV stands for Citywide Television.

2. Each star system has a Chairperson in charge of all the Science Police stationed within that system. Winath is also known as Amarta in the comics, so I named its star system accordingly.

3. I definitely will not be updating tomorrow, but you should see Chapter 9 the day after that.