I could not think properly, my mind muddled as memories of mine.
Where was I?
Courtroom.
What's happening?
Trials for missiles.
...
What just happened to me?
I stared out the window, bright and practically white. The blank sky burns into my retina. It was just gray outside the window, it'll rain soon...
I felt so... strange, omnipotent in this moment. Like I can pause existence and do anything I want in that time. I just felt calm, my heart beating slow and steady, my breath slowing unconsciously. I just couldn't care anymore.
I felt full, the emptiness gone— that hollowness gone.
In short, I felt like a god.
Invincibility is born from pure delusion— but I'm living the truth.
The trial continues, and keeping track of what's going on is hard, my mind wanders to foreign places and fairytales. To romantic ballroom dances, picturesque picnics, and slow dancing under the moon.
'If it's going to rain...'
"Why couldn't Ms. L/N stop the missiles?" I blinked and looked over; my name was called. I looked at the Russian ambassador at me intently, trying to burn intimidation into me.
"What a fool," I mutter and yawn. "I could take a nap," I grumble.
"Y/N," My lawyer chastised.
"Um... Defusing Missiles isn't my job... also by your own statement it was impossible to commandeer the missile." I mumble out yawning again. I look over to see Charlie shaking his head, I had to fight off the urge to wave to him.
"If you had let our military investigate, we would have a better and more precise answer." My lawyer steps in.
"Why was she not with the others?"
"Well besides still recovering from severe gunshots, I was also nearly killed by falling concrete, and in that process, my foot was severely bruised," I said calmly.
"Is there proof?"
A video is shown, Charlie holding the camera, and everyone is gathered around my foot. It was blue and purple, swollen and painfully looking.
"That looks bad—"
"Can we amputate it?"
"Now why the fuck would you want to do that?" Soap asks arms folding.
"It hurts like hell," I complain my voice breaking slightly as if I'm going to cry from the pain. I was close to crying, severely close, if it was just Charlie I probably be crying.
"You're out for a while—"
"No shit."
The clip ends and I look over to see the face of the Ambassador, he looks annoyed but satisfied. He goes back to his lawyers ready to accuse me of another said crime. My eyes drift away from him to the onlookers they looked invested, reporters noting things down. I look in the other direction and see a camera pointed directly at me. I stared into it, seeing my strange reflection back.
That was the pretty face I saw, it was mine... It's the body's face.
I quickly look away the itch in my mind triggered by what I saw. The pretty face does not belong to a being of pure filth and ugliness like me. See that face was very dysmorphic, it mutated my mind and made it hell.
"If you're so innocent then why did your government take a day and agree to this trial?"
"Because they're filled with dementia adle fools. Because My parents hate me and wanted to try to either clear the air or throw me solely under the bus, isn't that obvious?" I ask back, he shakes his head and I sigh. "Well, when one parent abandoned and the other disowned and put a restraining order on you, you know you're... uh... not wanted." I shrug. The room grew silent, and I could see the reports scribbling away furiously.
"Question," I said back, "What would be my motive?"
"Power." I burst out laughing and propped myself onto my palms.
"Power? how stupid, I'm not a white man." I smile at them, "Look from me to you, I hate my government. I hate the military, hell I consider myself an anarchist. I only join to get my..." I purse my lips.
Beloved... Soulmate...
Cringe.
"Best friend from being a gangster."
"Do your government know your ideology?"
"Does it matter?" I ask, "Like they're my boss, I don't have to like my boss." I stated the obvious.
"Well..." The ambassador's lawyer grumbles.
"Do not project your wants onto me, I seek no power," I state clearly for everyone to hear. It was obvious. "It's ok to hate me for not getting the last missile, I don't give a shit if you blame me or not, up to you." I hum tapping my fingers on the table.
"But for my parents, I have something for you," I said calmly. "Judge, can I walk through the middle?" I ask.
"You may."
I stand up and slowly walk toward my parents, I don't fully recall what they said but, I did catch on "Reimburse us for all our troubles." I pulled out a checkbook, I prewrote during the break.
"Your blood money." I grabbed the pen from my father's desk and stabbed it through my palm. My hand twitched violently, and pain pulsated through my hand. My eye twitched from the pain but I didn't let it on, I smeared my blood across the checks. 50 Checks all for 1 dollar, petty and stupid.
I turned around and walked away my blood dripping down my fingers, "I'm done here," I stated loudly, "We all know this is stupid."
"What are you doing?" The judge asks his voice stern and commanding.
"Let's cut the performance," I state loudly. I pulled out the letter that the ambassador asking the trial to be called off. I read it aloud for everyone to hear.
"I have nothing to prove, I did this to show how foolish both sides are," I said.
"My CIA contact has something for you," I slightly look over. Laswell moved forward realizing she only had this moment I gave her. She steps forward as I step back.
"Oh... Mother, father," I taunt, "My CIA contact has something to say to you." Laswell steps forward.
"The FBI will be investigating both Kevin Gibson and M/N L/N will be investigated for abuse, murder, and embezzlement." She announces calmly.
The room erupted into mumbling and loud whispering. My parents looked shocked, and fear crossed my mother's face as rage crossed my father's. They turn to each other and then at me. Hate in their eyes.
"Karma is a bitch."