Worm is owned by John C. 'Wildbow' McCrae

At least Hancock hadn't called Will. Sitting through Tony's proudful boasting about how he'd made her, how Bad Canary was all his hard work and she was a greedy, spiteful bitch had been bad enough. She wasn't certain she could have taken it if Hancock had called Will and turned everything he said against her.

Paige gave up on trying to relax. The benches lining the halls of the court-house at least made a passing effort at trying to be comfortable. But waiting in the hall was, in its own way, even worse than sitting through trial. She looked at where Hancock stood with a tight little knot of suits as an obese, garishly-dressed man walked up and joined them.

"Who is that?" Paige wrote on the pad of paper before shoving it at Quinn. The gag had hurt, but it had been honest. The chains had been honest. Even the poisonous look in Janacek's eye as Clay asked for a mistrial after Janacek had assured everyone that the collar was more than sufficient to keep them safe from all of the powers that she may or may not have, and the venom as he denied it, had been honest. The Tinkertech collar Janacek had insisted she wear didn't look normal, but it wasn't woefully, cruelly out of place, and it wasn't obvious what it did either.

Unless she spoke. The hideous, dry rasping croak it turned her voice into made it sound like she'd smoked four packs of cigarettes a day for forty years, and then bathed her vocal chords in acid and dried them with fire for good measure. It was much less demoralizing to simply write out notes than subject herself to her own voice.

Janacek had put court into recess for an early Friday afternoon, and she was sitting with Quinn and Clay on the bench across from his chambers. They were flanked by the two members of the Protectorate assigned as guards, with a squad of armored PRT agents toting tanks of containment foam standing on the other side of the hall.

"That," Quinn said, "is Glen Chambers. The PRT's Director of Image."

"You wanted that as a witness?" she croaked in surprise.

"Oh, yeah." For a very brief moment the look on Quinn Calle's face could have made Jaws reconsider its commitment to a seal-less diet. "Well," he said, "this should be interesting."

"Right," Janacek said once both legal teams, Paige, and Glen Chambers were in his chambers with the door closed. "Mr. Calle, you wanted Director Chambers as a witness. He's in town for the weekend and I've ordered him to make himself available out of his very limited free time."

"With all due thanks to Director Chambers," Quinn said evenly. "But unless the Prosecution intends to rest in the very near future…"

"I'll be calling Glen as my next witness on Monday morning," Hancock said.

"Will that suffice, Mr. Calle?" Janacek asked.

"He's going to destroy Mcabee's attempts to distance herself from the Simurgh," Hancock commented, "and describe how her chosen profession had clearly been designed to give her as many victims as possible."

Quinn ignored the other attorney. "With respect, Judge Janacek, but no it is not. If the Prosecution intended to direct examine Director Chambers then the appropriate time to inform us was before trial began—"

"This court was unaware of Director Chambers' availability—"

"Unforeseen business brought me here," Chambers said. "I was supposed to be in Tampa this weekend."

"—until the last moment," Janacek said.

"—and even if they too wanted to call Director Chambers, a cross-examination is not the direct I wanted, even under hostile witness rules."

"Noted," Janacek said.

"We've had no chance to depose or prepare for this witness."

"You'll have two hours of Director Chambers' time tomorrow morning," Janacek said.

"Witnesses and evidence are supposed to be disclosed prior to the start of trial."

"You disclosed Director Chambers as a potential witness," Janacek said.

"But the State did not," Quinn said simply. "But if those concerns are noted in the record, I have no objection to Mr. Chambers being called."

"Fine," Janacek glanced at Hancock who shook his head. "Director Chambers, deposition at seven tomorrow morning. I'm sorry for the hour but it should allow you to make that appointment? Court on Monday morning."

"If I must," Chambers sighed.

"Short meeting, good," Janacek grunted.

"If it would help and be convenient, we could do the deposition here? It shouldn't take more than ten minutes if we can find a stenographer."

"That would be most beneficial," Chambers agreed.

"Sure," Hancock sounded almost amused by the idea.

"Okay, fine," Janacek said. "This should be entertaining at least." He picked up the phone on his desk.

Five minutes later a woman in a suit walked in. She set up a laptop on a side table, then took out a machine that looked like a laptop with an undersized screen and too few keys, and Director Chambers was duly sworn in.

"As Director of Image you are responsible for seeing that the Protectorate and Wards as a whole, and individually, get good PR," Quinn said.

"Among other things."

"Over seeing charity events, press conferences, costume design, name choice, equipment selection, the personas capes use, even the methodology in which they use their powers?"

"Of course."

"This extends to social media. Making sure that they get good coverage, or aren't self-sabotaging themselves on PHO?"

"Yes."

"Ensuring the PHO cape wiki is up to date and accurate?"

"As accurate as it can be, yes," Chambers agreed with a nod. "There are limitations, of course."

"New capes," Quinn said. "Incomplete power readings?"

"Yes, to both."

"Do you misinform the public about capes?"

"I'm not sure what you mean?"

"Mislabeled or misrepresented powers, called a Striker that zeros the inertia of anything that touches her a Brute because she can bounce bullets or thrown cars, for example."

Chambers shook his head. "doing so would be detrimental. As soon as it was discovered it would undermine the hero, and create distrust between the civilian populace and the people charged with keeping it safe. It would also create unneeded and unnecessary tension between the PRT and Protectorate."

"And, of course, villains read the wiki too. A technique that would neutralize our hypothetical Brute might well cripple or kill a Striker. Now you have a possibly dead hero, a cape who might have been salvageable as a hero instead up on murder charges, and a potential lawsuit from any surviving family for putting said Striker in more danger; also the issues of perception and the like."

"Among other things, yes."

"So you don't misinform the public about ratings, or make a deliberate choice not to correct them when they make an error in power classification?" Quinn asked.

"Not deliberately, but in something as large and complex as the Protectorate mistakes do happen."

"What about the Wards?"

"Them too."

"Tell me about Gallant," Quinn said.

"I'm sorry, who?" Chambers asked.

"Gallant, a Ward in Brockton Bay," Carol interjected.

Chambers shook his head. "The Protectorate is so large, I don't remember every cape—"

"That's fine," Quinn said. "It just so happens that I have my tablet here… Gallant's PHO wiki page," he said. "I'd like this entered as Defense exhibit PHO-One. Your Honor, if you could print us off a couple copies?"

Janacek rolled his eyes, but tapped at his computer and a moment later a high-speed printer began to discharge sheets of paper into its out-tray. Pages were passed to Janacek, to Hancock, to the Stenographer who made notes, and finally to Glen Chambers who paged through them.

"Do these help?" Quinn asked pleasantly.

"Oh," Chambers said.

"This says Gallant is a Tinker, power armored and massless kinetic energy blasts that impart empathic residue," Janacek said.

"So?" Hancock asked.

Chambers sighed theatrically.

"So," Quinn said, "I have an affidavit from Gallant that says his power armor was purchased from local Tinkers, and that he was deliberately coached by Director Chambers to pass himself off as another Tinker. Not outright lie, mind you, but to let people make a wrong conclusion and then not contradict it. Parenthetically, I don't know about any of you but it seems to my cursory understanding of the language, but 'deliberate' and 'mistake' seem fairly antithetical to each other."

He paused, as though daring Janacek or Hancock to dispute the point. When none came he shrugged and went on.

"The affidavit also says that his true ability is a Blaster/Master/Thinker. He can shoot kinetic blasts that force those struck to experience emotions that he selects. He can also read the emotions of those he meets. The latter power he was specifically told to not mention as people would find it intrusive."

"Nice try, but you didn't put Gallant on your witness list," Hancock said. "Just try getting that into the record."

"Dean Stansfield is on my witness list," Quinn said. "We sat through your deposition of him together."

Hancock's face blanched in fury. "And you want to accuse me of trial by ambush?"

"Of course not," Quinn said. "I'm calling someone with relevant experience to refute your witness. You had every chance to depose Mr. Stansfield. For that matter, we did sit through that deposition. If you screwed up the questions that's on you."

"Pretty words for someone threatening to unmask a Ward!"

"We weren't going to bring up his parahuman identity at all," Quinn said. "The details of who he is, and even his powers, aren't necessary for him to be able to refute Director Chambers. No offense."

"None taken," Chambers said dryly. "It was very beautifully done."

"This is almost as outrageous a claim as your unseemly insinuation that her victim caused her trigger event!"

Sudden curiosity forced Paige to croak: "Can you prove he didn't?"

He couldn't of course. Not unless he could prove that they existed. (Paige shivered just thinking about it). Or unless they manufactured it somehow.

"I don't answer to you," Hancock sneered. He turned to Janacek. "Your Honor, this is ridiculous. Mr. Gagliano is her victim, why is he suddenly the one on trial?"

"Enough," Janacek said. "All of you." His eyes flicked at each of the lawyers. "Mr. Hancock, you will no doubt be relieved but evidence that Mr. Gagliano caused the Defendant's trigger event would be unduly prejudicial against the State's case."

"Thank you, your Honor."

"That's okay, Mr. Hancock," Carol said sweetly. "I'll come for any evidence you have regarding Paige's trigger event during discovery for my lawsuit."

"Mrs. Dallon," Janacek said icily, "I am talking."

"Of course, Your Honor."

"Mr. Calle, we'll come back to the matter of…Gallant, Stansfield, whichever, in a moment. Director Chambers, are you aware of any such…tampering in regards to the Defendant's power classification or ratings?"

Chambers shook his head. "Before today the only contact I've had with Canary is what I've seen in the news."

"So you would describe the recent…reevaluation of her power as incomplete power analysis?"

"Testing, yes," Chambers said.

"Director Chambers," Quinn said, staring at Janacek. "Is it possible that one of your people in the local office, entirely without your knowledge, was less than truthful when they did the summation of Canary's power?"

"It's possible," Chambers agreed. "I would think it more likely that testing is still incomplete."

"Director Chambers, how much time is required for the PRT to gain an adequate understanding of one parahuman's power?"

"That would depend on the nature of the powers in question," Chambers said. "I'm not familiar enough with hers or the particulars of her testing to say."

"Paige Mcabee has been in PRT/Protectorate custody since she was arrested early last fall," Quinn said. "This trial has been delayed ostensibly so that testing could be done to ensure adequate safeguards during said trial. Given the recent reevaluation which seems most likely to you, that whoever was doing the testing deliberately falsified her power classification and rating, they managed to display a truly amazing level of incompetence without being called on it, or a Brute-classification is so mind-bendingly complex that the PRT is still unsure of whether or not it exists?"

"Your Honor," Hancock said. "I'm going to need time to prep this witness, and I'm sure the Defense will demand more than two hours to make a thorough deposition. Without a chance to prep I can only guess, but say plan a day's worth of testimony from the State, plus however much longer the Defense needs?"

"I'm done with this deposition," Quinn said. "I'm not sure where you're getting a full day of testimony out of."

"I need to be in San Diego Tuesday morning," Chambers interrupted. "That's on top of my job this weekend, and after inconveniencing a number of very important people to give you all of Monday."

"Can your Tuesday meeting be delayed?" Janacek asked.

"I'm afraid it cannot," Chambers said. "And it absolutely requires my presence."

"In that case I don't think we have a choice," Janacek said. "I won't cripple the State by demanding they don't take sufficient time to prepare. And I can't very well put this court into recess, not with a jury in seclusion, until you're available again. I'm going to drop this witness. Thank you offering to be available, Director. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"I understand, Your Honor," Chambers said as he stood.

"I think," Quinn said in a very cold voice, "that at this point we need to go off the record."

As Paige watched, both Janacek and Hancock's faces lost color—Hancock into something like day-old oatmeal, but Janacek's was closer to gristle—as they darted looks towards the stenographer. For her part the stenographer had lifted her hands from the funny little laptop, folded them in her lap, and was now watching the room with a rather bored expression.

"Anyone feel like revisiting those plea offers?" Clay asked as Chambers very quietly sat back down.

"She pleads guilty to sexual assault with a parahuman ability—"

"Not happening," Quinn said.

"And I'll not recommend the Birdcage," Hancock finished.

"Not. Happening," Quinn said. "An ambush witness, and then trying to excuse a witness the defense wanted to call when you realized that witness was an impediment to the State's case?"

"Director Chambers has responsibilities," Janacek said.

"As does this court," Quinn said in a very soft tone. "One of which is to ensure the availability of witnesses for the accused. And there are methods for redress when those responsibilities are not met."

"If you think I'm about to let you intimidate my court with a lawsuit—"

"Your Honor," Quinn interrupted, "the only thing I am going to threaten you and Mr. Hancock with are reporting you both to the Board of Judicial Conduct and the Bar respectively."

"I'm the one who is handling the lawsuits," Carol added, her tone as close to cheerful as Paige had ever heard it.

Janacek, whose face had gone mottled in fury, half rose from behind his desk when Quinn stated.

"I think we're ready to go back on the record."

"No we—"

Quinn raised a finger and Janacek froze.

Paige darted a quick look at the stenographer who had her hands on that funny little keyboard again. "The Defense will concede that the State has demonstrated that Paige Mcabee may have exerted some parahuman influence, and that the Defense has not yet absolutely refuted that assertion. However, the State has not—and cannot—prove in fact that she is solely responsible for all of Mr. Gagliano's injuries owing to inadequate and incomplete power testing and analysis on the part of the PRT and Protectorate. Furthermore, the Defense would point out that Paige Mcabee gained her powers in early 2009 and worked more than a year as a public performing artist without any Master powers being evident. Mr. Gagliano's assertions aside, no evidence that Paige was Mastering entire audiences to boost her popularity has been established in the record, let alone turned over to the Defense as part of discovery."

Hancock reluctantly shook his head.

"For the record, please?" Quinn asked formally.

Hancock's jaw worked for a moment, "the State is aware of no such evidence."

"Thank you," Quinn said. "It has been established that parahumans, aside from certain Trumps like Eidolon, do not gain new powers over time. The Defense has a year and a half of public performances that Paige is not a Master. The State has one example…and no effort made to explain the delay—"

"Obviously she obtained a fluency with her powers," Hancock interrupted.

"When?" Quinn asked. "With whom? For that matter, Mr. Gagliano was her manager, coach, live-in boyfriend… When did she have time to achieve that level of skill without him knowing said power even existed? And that's not getting into his remarks on the stand about making her everything she is."

Hancock didn't reply.

"There was minimal investigation done to determine if there were any other suspects. Indeed, the entire State's case seems to rest on Mr. Gagliano's statement that Paige is a Master."

"We have supportive statements from both Hunch and Eleventh Hour."

"Was that disclosed to the Defense?" Quinn asked.

"Mr. Calle," Janacek said. "Thinker evidence has to be validated independently of parahuman powers to be entered into the record."

"It is material to the case, regardless of whether or not it can go into the record," Quinn said. "Even if we momentarily assume such statements are truthful, it does not mean they are factual. Nor does it mean that even if—please note the emphasis on 'if'—Paige does possess a Master-type ability—which the Defense does not concede—it does not necessarily follow that she used it in this case. In short, the Defense cannot help but note that it appears inadequate consideration was given to both investigating and disproving the possibility that a Master other than Paige was involved.

"Additionally, as further evidence of the same systemic inadequacies, Paige Mcabee has been repeatedly paraded in front of the jury in inappropriate restrictive equipment—"

"She could well be a Brute," Hancock said.

"Actually," Clay said, "what she has is an aura that one-hundred percent guarantees that everyone who comes within a hundred thousand miles of her will die. I, for one, am not sure how I'll die, you understand, or even one. It could be Quinn's next client gets lucky, or it could be in my own bed at age ninety with a French hooker named—well, that isn't important. What's important is that I am quite certain that I will eventually die." He paused. "Kill aura," he said with a snap of his fingers, "the similarities to Simurgh are intended to distract from her similarity to Behemoth."

"You have no foundation that she is a Brute," Quinn said as though Calle hadn't. "Assume facts not in evidence. Did one of your Thinkers chalk up an unverified Brute rating, and the Defense has not been informed of such?"

"Eleventh Hour did not discount one."

"Did he not discount one because he wasn't certain if there was one, or has he not discounted one because he was never asked?" Quinn asked in return. "Regardless, the restraints of unverified and unproven necessity, which have already changed once and in close conjunction with witness testimony as to create the implication of powers that even the State isn't suggesting she has, are problematic and prejudicial. Additionally, the PRT and Protectorate were given a great deal of time to address these very concerns, to the point where Paige's trial was delayed until after the appearance of the Simurgh and very public quarantining of Canberra, despite the gross similarities in surface appearance and power between Paige and said Endbringer. Therefore, the defense moves to dismiss all charges with prejudice."

Quinn paused. "Is her," he tilted his head slightly towards the stenographer, "record sufficient or do you want me to ask Clay to lay that all out again in court on Monday morning?"

March was bright. Cold, yes, with a dry wind that sliced through her clothes like daggers. But it was the bright sun that clawed through Paige's squinting eyes, and the hand she'd raised to protect them, and beat against her retinas. The cold air sucked moisture from her sinuses and mouth, and made her lungs burn.

"If I should leave here, tomorrow, would you still remember me…" In deference to the humans next to her and the fact that it was the steps of a courthouse, she softly spoke the words instead of singing the notes.

It was glorious.

"How about it, Glenn," Clay's voice had a wry humor at her choice of song. "One popstar, slightly used?"

"After the way Hancock vilified her in the press?" Chambers asked. "It'd be an interesting challenge at the very least. And even then… No offense, m'dear," he said to Paige, "but I think that if you were the kind to be interested in law enforcement you would have approached the Protectorate long before you got in trouble."

Paige's whispered voice was harsh, but it was harsh from free air rather than a lack of use or tinkertech. "I only ever wanted to sing."

"Sometimes, Director Chambers," a pleasant tenor colored with mingled amusement and mild reproach, "we help people because it is the right thing to do."

Paige blinked as a blob of sunlight lobed off and split from the rest, and then resolved into a very fit man wearing a blue and silver bodysuit.

"Legend," Quinn said, "meet Canary. Canary, Legend."

"Paige," Paige said. "I'm… I think I'm done with Canary. At least for a little while."

"That's understandable," Legend agreed. "Have you any ideas about what you want to do?"

"Not the Protectorate," Paige said definitively, and added a hurried "no offense."

"None taken."

"I want…" There were so many songs she hadn't been able to sing. Not just her songs, but any songs. A fragment full of emotion all twisted up into a painful knot came immediately to mind, and forcing herself to speak and not sing the words was every bit as painful as the gag. "'The greatest happiness he ever found was making Russian children glad.'"

"'When children lived in Leningrad,'" Legend finished, and that he knew the words and chose to speak them was every bit as glorious as walking out of the courthouse. "I think we can manage that." He looked at Quinn, then back to her. "Are you retaining Mr. Calle as your legal counsel?"

"I'm an expert in parahuman criminal law," Quinn said with a smile. "But I have some people in my firm who handle corporate work,."

"I'm sure you do," Legend said with a shake of his head. "Your lawyer is amoral as they come, Paige."

"I object," Quinn intoned, not sounding at all affronted by the accusation. "I am a very moral lawyer." His voice became very soft. "I believe the operative words are: 'In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district wherein the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defence.'"

Legend breathed in through his nose and his tone became very formal. "I apologize, Mr. Calle."

Quinn just shrugged.

"You don't need to represent villains," Carol commented.

"Point one, they are more likely to be in need of the services that I provide than most. Two, they can pay better than most. And three, I am very good at what I do. Are you suggesting that they don't deserve competent counsel?"

Carol shook her head. "I'm done dealing with you, Quinn. Paige," she said brusquely, "call me whenever you decide to sue those bastards." She nodded once and walked away.

"I'll say this for these Protectorate chaps," Will's rough bass was wonderfully familiar and yet almost foreign after months of confinement, "they don't stint on hardware."

Paige looked through the window of the booth. "Are you sure—"

"You ran public for almost a year before the Asshole—" he had never used Tony's name, but the irreverent nickname he'd taken to using before Tony had even forced his presence back into her life, struck Paige as both hysterically amusing and utterly inappropriate considering everything that had happened "—without enslaving an audience except by being just that damn good. So first we work off recordings and if we can't replicate it, if we can't then we go to broadcast, and if that doesn't do anything we can start talking about live performances again. Legend has his own list of tests in case it's something like how tired you are, or the state of your hair, or in proportion to how big of an asshole someone is being. For that matter it could have been someone else at the club—"

"It was me," Paige said.

"You sure?"

"Pretty sure," she admitted. "Not…everything he did, but just for him to go away." And fuck himself.

"Fine," he said. "Any other last-minute jitters or can we start the test?"

"Just, ah, the only concern I had," she said. "Are you sure you can work the equipment? You aren't a sound tech."

Will looked at her through the window and made a rude gesture. "How hard can it be to hit a 'record' button?"

He held up a thumb.

Paige echoed it, her eyes slipping closed as music filled the headphones she was wearing.

For the first time since her arrest, Paige let herself sing!

"My life flows on in endless song, above the Earth's lamentations…"

Also referenced:

Free Bird by Lynyrd Skynyrd

Leningrad by Billy Joel

How Can I Keep from Singing? by Robert Lowry

Quinn quotes the Sixth Amendment to the United States Constitution

A/N: And so this little trip ends. I'd actually written out courtroom scenes for both Glen and Dean (both direct and cross), and roughed out some really great closing arguments. The problem with that route (and the reason I decided not to go it) was that 1) the examination was incredibly repetitive. 2) I couldn't decide which way a jury would go (Paige did, actually, Master her ex, and it was the judge who imposed the Birdcage). I could have ended it with the jury going into deliberations, but I felt the story deserved an actual resolution. 3) Quinn is too damn good at his job to leave things up in the air. If he couldn't convince a jury to go his way, he would have found a way to make the jury irrelevant (and thus, blame the PRT and ask for charges to be dismissed).

I ran into two problems that I wanted to address. First, the trial itself. While the judge in Worm went overboard in sending Paige to the Birdcage, she had actually been convicted on two counts (aggravated and sexual assault, each with a parahuman ability, and the latter goes against the Unwritten Rules), and it was noted during the PRT directors' conference (I think it was by Armstrong), that the rationale has been slipping and the Birdcage population has been increasing because of it (so at this point down to convictions on two counts rather than three separate incidents with multiple bodies, or whatever the original threshold was, I had Assault bring it up in 'Birds and Bees' and felt no need to rehash it here). So, my read was that her canon sentence was more indicative of degradation in the system than 'cage all the Masters' type conspiracy or gross misconduct by the prosecution and judge, and that the egregious fault was in her inadequate counsel (well, that and the judge not making sure said counsel was doing his job adequately).

Second, and more pressing, issue I ran into was Paige's powers. If everyone that hears her sing is subject to extremely literal hyper-suggestibility, why did it take over a year for someone to notice that there was a Problem? She was working as a performing artist that whole time! Even if she only did a couple shows a night to an audience of a hundred, we are still talking about multiple thousands affected in that time. In all probability it was more since she was considered a breakout artist (part of the ex's coming back was she had money, artists are usually called 'starving' for a reason), and that doesn't even get into the whole issue of whether or not you believe Spur remembering her two+ years after being sent to the birdcage.