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78.78% Marvel: Impregnation System / Chapter 126: Chapter 122: Luciano V. Dewey

Chương 126: Chapter 122: Luciano V. Dewey

"You were almost late to your own trial!" Marshall snapped at Ricky, his nerves frayed as the court was set to adjourn in just five minutes.

"I wouldn't say late, it's just that I always prefer to make a grand entrance that leaves everyone speechless." Ricky chuckled, watching how Marshall's entire face scrunched.

"In shock or excitement?" Jake asked, trying to gauge what he was going for but Ricky simply chuckled and patted Jake's shoulder in response.

"Exactly." Ricky pushed the door open, stepping into the courtroom he intended to make his b*tch as his gaze quickly landed on Chester, who was attempting to stay inconspicuous by the side.

The reason for his tardiness was simple: he had been trying to figure out a way for Chester to hear everything that transpired in the courtroom without being shooed out.

"If it isn't the infamous and disgraced Ricky Luciano. Haven't seen you since you ran away from home," Dewey said, rising to his feet and turning toward Ricky as the latter responded with a cold, sharp laugh.

"If it isn't the infamous and disgraced DA Thomas Dewey. Haven't seen you since you lost everything you had, including your dignity." Ricky said, his laughter growing louder as he looked down at the smaller man before him.

"You know, I always thought you were an idiot, but I never imagined you'd be stupid enough to go against the U.S. government," Dewey said, trying to rattle Ricky's poised demeanor but he only smiled in response.

"Well, I wasn't going to at first, but then I wouldn't be someone who keeps his promises." Ricky said with a shallow smile, taking a step closer and sizing up Dewey.

"And I always keep my promises." Ricky's laugh carried a murderous edge, causing Dewey to grit his teeth before shoving past him.

Sitting at Dewey's table was Rufus Hawkins, an infamous Texas lawyer notorious for squashing civil rights cases and setting back human equality for profit.

To many Texans, Hawkins was hailed as a hero, but as he locked eyes with Ricky, he shot him a deadly glare.

"Dammit, I didn't think they'd bring Hawkins onto their council," Marshall muttered as he walked in, taking a seat next to Ricky and leaning in to whisper.

"Let me guess, he's a big deal?" Ricky asked, side-eyeing Hawkins who wore an arrogant smile while tending to his briefings.

"Big deal doesn't even cover it, that man right there has more civil cases thrown out than any other lawyer in the state of Texas," Marshall explained with a sigh, having done an actual law school paper on all the unjust civil cases thrown out, and Hawkins' cases had a significant portion.

"ALL RISE FOR JUDGE MASON!" The bailiff shouted, and everyone stood as an old, gruff man wobbled to his seat.

"Be seated."

"Hawkins, good to see you," Judge Mason said with a smile, side-eyeing Marshall before putting on his reading glasses.

"Wow, we are so screwed," Ricky whispered with a playful smile as Marshall turned toward him with a deadpan glare, holding up his hands in response.

"It was just a joke, geez-"

"Defendant, your opening argument," Judge Mason said, giving the floor to Hawkins as the lawyer smiled, stepping forward confidently.

"Your Honor, I stand before you today to address a matter of exceptional legal and constitutional importance. The case at hand involves Mr. Thomas Dewey, whose actions in conducting the search and seizure of Mr. Ricky's property are now under scrutiny. However, it is crucial to understand the context and the necessity of Dewey's actions within the framework of our legal system." Hawkins started his opening argument off strong, showcasing that Dewey wasn't hiding behind his actions but putting the first step forward and really shaping the narrative.

"First and foremost, I would like to emphasize that Mr. Dewey acted in accordance with the legal and procedural standards expected of any other federal investigator. The search and seizure was carried out with due regard for the warranted doubt of the situation. The nature of Mr. Ricky's activities, given his status as a mutant, presented a unique and pressing concern that necessitated a swift and decisive investigation. The urgency and potential threat posed by Mr. Ricky's actions, as perceived by Dewey, justified the measures taken." Hawkins continued, pressing into Dewey's actions further and then slowly shaping that supposedly unlawful search, into a just cause.

"It is essential to recognize that Mr. Dewey's decision to proceed with the search was based on the information and circumstances available at the time. The investigator operated under the premise of safeguarding public interest and ensuring that no immediate threat was posed. To challenge the legitimacy of Dewey's actions would be to overlook the complexities involved in managing cases that intersect with extraordinary circumstances, such as those involving individuals with extraordinary abilities." Hawkins' voice hung low, pitying Dewey for having to deal with someone like Ricky and trying to garner some sympathy.

"Furthermore, any claims of procedural error or misconduct must be weighed against the context in which these actions were taken. Given the nature of Mr. Ricky's mutant abilities, the search and seizure were conducted with the intent to prevent potential harm and ensure compliance with legal norms." Hawkins stated, trying to set the precedent that since Ricky had powers, he shouldn't have been left to his own devices but had them checked.

"In light of these considerations, we assert that the search and seizure conducted by Mr. Dewey were justified and within the bounds of legal authority. The evidence obtained is therefore admissible, and there is no basis to dismiss the case on these grounds." Hawkins furthered his own set precedent, trying to set his narrative to show that Dewey had no choice after learning Ricky was a mutant.

"We respectfully request that the court acknowledge the exceptional nature of the situation and uphold the validity of the search and seizure carried out by Mr. Dewey and propose this case be dismissed. Thank you." Hawkins finished his opening argument with a round of applause by spectators behind him, it was only after a minute did Judge Mason hold up his hand, signaling it was enough for now.

"Complainant." Judge Mason finally looked towards Marshall who stood up with a firm expression.

"Your Honor, while Mr. Hawkins has presented an elaborate defense of Mr. Dewey's actions, but it is crucial to address the core issue at hand, the violation of Mr. Ricky's constitutional rights. The argument that Mr. Dewey's search and seizure were justified due to Mr. Ricky's status as a mutant is both legally and ethically flawed." Marshall first started his opening argument by picking apart Hawkins, something that is usually looked down upon in this era.

"Firstly, let us be clear: the Fourth Amendment of the Constitution is unequivocal in protecting all individuals from unreasonable searches and seizures, regardless of their status or abilities. The rights guaranteed under this amendment do not and should not be subject to exceptions based on an individual's identity or extraordinary circumstances. Mr. Dewey's actions must be scrutinized against this fundamental standard." Marshall forced that narrative that Hawkins conjured to the light, showing him as not a man on a pedestal but someone under the same banner of their constitution.

"Mr. Hawkins suggests that Mr. Dewey acted with due diligence and in response to an urgent situation involving Mr. Ricky's mutant abilities. However, the legal threshold for conducting a search and seizure remains consistent: it requires a valid warrant and probable cause. Mr. Dewey's actions in this instance, as we contend, did not meet these requirements. There was no warrant obtained, and the so-called urgency was not substantiated by lawful grounds for bypassing constitutional protections with a probable cause that Ricky was simply a mutant." Marshall pressed, showing how drastic Dewey's actions were under this banner and how they violated all the rights he was trying to uphold.

"This claim, this declaration that Mr. Dewey's actions were justified due to the nature of Mr. Luciano's abilities set a dangerous precedent that undermines the principles of justice. Allowing such a justification would not only disregard constitutional protections but also create a scenario where individuals could be subjected to invasive actions based on subjective determinations of threat." Marshall's smile rose, watching Hawkins scrunch his brows since this was what they were after and the man was going to press this wound of his argument until he squealed.

"Furthermore, the procedural errors in Mr. Dewey's conduct, specifically, the lack of a proper warrant and adherence to legal protocols, cannot be overlooked. These errors are significant and warrant a full examination in a trial setting, where the facts and circumstances can be thoroughly reviewed and adjudicated." Marshall emphasized these points, showing that Dewey's actions needed to be assessed.

"In light of these points, we respectfully assert that the case should proceed to trial. The issues at hand involve fundamental constitutional questions that merit a full and fair examination in a court of law. To dismiss the case at this juncture would be to deny Mr. Ricky the opportunity to seek redress and hold Mr. Dewey accountable for the alleged violations of his rights." Marshall almost insisted, knowing that this case couldn't die here and was willing to slit his wrist if need be to get this case to trial.

"We urge the court to reject Mr. Hawkins' attempt to obfuscate the issue and allow the case to proceed to trial and thank you." Marshall squeezed out his last opening argument but it wasn't met with any applause, but a sigh from the very judge presiding over them.

"Boy, be honest with me, do you really want to go to trial here?" Judge Mason said, removing his reading glasses and turning his gaze to Marshall. 

He knew he couldn't legally dismiss the case, as the evidence presented was far too overwhelming to ignore.

"The good, honest people don't want you here, America doesn't want you here, and if you go through with this, you'll just be putting a target on your back," Judge Mason said, offering his candid advice. 

"Settle here with the good man Hawkins, boy. You won't win-"

"Objection!" Ricky laughed out, unable to hold himself back any longer as Marshall's eyes almost popped out of his head.

"RICK-"

"Overruled, sustained-" Ricky, saying all of the lawyer's words he knew, continued to laugh as Marshall tried to pull him down as if he was going crazy.

BAM

BAM

"Order, order! What is the meaning of this?" Judge Mason demanded, clearly caught off guard. He had never been interrupted in such an unusual manner, and Ricky only laughed harder in response.

"Is there something funny over there Mr. Luciano?!" Judge Mason almost demanded, about to put Ricky in contempt for his rash words.

"I'm sorry your honor, but when you said to settle here, I just thought it was time to joke around and-" Ricky began, his confrontational tone clear as he prepared to continue however, Marshall quickly saw where this was heading and stepped in, trying to intervene before it escalated further.

"Ricky, please!" Marshall screamed in a whisper, watching the Judge's face visible contort and contrast.

Cough

"What I mean to say was that I got carried away from being in a courtroom for the first time." Ricky rolled his eyes at his own excuse, watching Judge Mason's face become red as he pointed his gavel at him.

"Another outburst like that and I'll hold you in contempt." Judge Mason warned Ricky who nodded absentmindedly, looking at Dewey snickering at him by the side like a schoolgirl.

"Judge Mason, we don't want to settle," Marshall said firmly as Judge Mason raised an eyebrow, his hand hovering over the gavel, before he finally picked it up with scrunched brows.

"Then the Case of Luciano v. Dewey will proceed to trial, jury selections will transpire tomorrow unless an agreement can be made."

Bang

Judge Mason banged his gavel, and everyone stood as Ricky turned to Dewey, offering a simple smile before walking away.

"Mr. Luciano, a word?" Hawkins called out, catching up to him with a smile while Ricky glanced at Marshall, who shook his head in warning.

"Sure, why not,. Ricky laughed, seeing Marshall simply sigh as they followed Hawkins and a furious Dewey into a separate room.

"The government has prepared a settlement offer that we think will satisfy both parties." Hawkins said, opening his briefcase while Dewey was seething to the side but managed to reign himself in. 

Ricky raised an eyebrow, thinking this was the best time to send a verbal jab or two at him but Marshall started first, standing up in disbelief.

"We will not be settling-"

"Boy, you better watch that lip when speaking to me," Hawkins warned, glaring at Marshall, but the latter wasn't intimidated in the least.

"And yours is gonna have a gash in it if you keep speaking like that to my attorney," Ricky shot back, leaning back in his chair as he wasn't about to let Hawkins disrespect Marshall.

But it wasn't because he respected him or anything, it was simply because Marshall represented Ricky. 

In a sense, Marshall reflected aspects of himself due to his representation, and Ricky wouldn't tolerate an insult like that, not to someone who stood in his corner.

"I apologize." Hawkins forced out a smile, handing Ricky the settlement as he took the paper with a raised brow at the number. 

"You're kidding." Ricky asked incredulously, waving the paper in the air as he looked at Dewey.

"This is it, you're just going to give up-"

BAM

"I am not giving up, but looking toward the vested interests of my country, something you wouldn't know anything about." Dewey hissed, slamming his hands on the desk in frustration.

The contents of the settlement were as follows:

Dewey would relinquish his positions within New York and any of his associates would be transferred out

Ricky would receive 2.5 million dollars.

But the document essentially outlined that the government would allow Ricky to have control over New York, offering him a payout with only one catch: Ricky would have to publicly retract his previous statements and apologize to the U.S. government.

"I suggest you consider it, since it's the best you'll ever get." Hawkins said, standing up and buttoning his coat as he left the room, followed by a seething Dewey.

"This is a good deal." Ricky surprisingly let out, actually taken aback that they were willing to offer him something.

"You're not considering it, are you?" Marshall laughed out, only to realize Ricky was serious.

"I am-"

"YOUR WHAT?!" Marshall screeched, eyes wide in disbelief, as Ricky casually stretched his arms, rubbing his neck while raising an eyebrow.

"Listen Marshall, the only thing that really bothers me isn't the treatment I've received but the fact that they want me to apologize which I'm still wondering if I want to do-

"BUT, THEY, YOU-" Marshall interrupted him, struggling to find a sentence in the spiral of words flowing out of his mouth.

SIGH

Marshall let out an aggravated sigh, pacing back and forth and rubbing his chin in frustration while Ricky tilted his head, watching him for a moment before casually starting to pour a drink.

"Marshall calm down, why are you acting as if me considering the settle is the end of the world-"

"Because this isn't a victory Mr. Luciano, it's placate for covering their losses, we can win this, we can-"

"Marshall, you came to me and basically begged me to hire you, assuring me you'd get the government to cough up their piggy bank and you did just that," Ricky shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he took the drink into his hand.

"With this settlement, I'll get good privileges when I go back to New York, and it saves me the hassle of dealing with the U.S. government," Ricky relaxed, savoring the thought since after taking down Dracula, he hadn't had a single break, and this deal promised a much-needed reprieve.

However, Ricky hadn't made a decision on the settlement yet as he was taking his time, really analyzing the offer, which was something Marshall couldn't understand. 

The wheels were clearly turning in Ricky's mind, but Marshall couldn't wrap his head around why he was giving it so much thought.

"But this can be so much more, Mr. Luciano. You can be so much more!" Marshall said eagerly, sitting in front of him as Ricky sighed, setting his drink down and leaning back in his chair.

"Listen-"

"No, you listen to me," Marshall said, putting his foot down as Ricky suddenly laughed, amused by how passionate Marshall was about this, and simply gestured toward him, giving him the floor.

"Every. Single. Day. Mutants are getting chased out of their homes and having the lives they built, brick by brick, turned to ash for simply being who they are." Marshall's voice was heavy, speaking from his own experience and trying to form a bridge with his words to connect with Ricky.

"And they're scared, frightened, of fighting back against a society that punishes them for simply existing but you-....your not afraid of standing up to the big guy in fact, you have the power and arrogance to take on the government and a smile in times of distress." Marshall pointed at Ricky, his expression one of genuine amazement.

"You just have this knack for drawing attention towards you, making it so that people can't look away even if they despise you." Marshall explained, watching firsthand Ricky revel in the hateful slurs of the public and laugh at all their insults.

"You were born to be a leader, Mr. Luciano you were born to bring change." Marshall exaggerated, needing to draw RIcky into this idea of what this case could be.

"And if there was ever a time for you to bring change, it's right now." Marshall insisted, his voice rising with fervor. 

"The stars have aligned, bringing a case that is actually winnable into the hands of someone who's not afraid, who's not scared of the consequences." Marshall's breathing grew heavier, and his passion poured out, his eyes locked on Ricky as if trying to make him see the gravity of the moment.

"Mr. Luciano if you just-"

"Alright, Marshall, I'm going to stop you right here." Ricky smacked his lips, setting down the glass of neat bourbon with a soft clink.

"You're getting all worked up over a single consideration, I'm not taking the offer but looking over it-"

"But that's how they get you-"

Crack

The table suddenly splintered, the sharp crack echoing through the room. Marshall flinched, eyes widening as Ricky's hand released its grip, revealing a deep indentation in the wood. 

His anger was reaching its breaking point, and the air in the room thickened with the intensity of it.

"Stop interrupting me. Once or twice is fine, but I'm annoyed with it now." Ricky's voice was steady, his eyes narrowing as he spoke as Marshall quickly ducked his head, a nervous tension settling between them.

"Listen up, cause I'm only gonna say this once," Ricky said, his tone sharp as he leaned forward. 

"I'm a selfish guy, Marshall. If I ever do something good, it's because it benefits me in some way. My interests come first, always. I don't think like you." Ricky drew a firm line between them, making it clear that if Marshall was going to represent him going forward, he'd need to understand the rules.

"I'll admit, I did have some other plans for this case and it's the reason I'm not accepting this settlement outright, but mostly because of the apology thing." Ricky's eyes darted back to the paper, almost annoyed that they wanted him to actually apologize.

"But this can be monumental for you, this can make you an icon, I can make you-"

"Oh come on Marshall, don't think that I don't know you're using me as much as I'm using you." Ricky laughed, annoyed at his countless speeches that were riddled with lies.

It was one of the reasons Ricky wasn't taking his words seriously, because his words weren't genuine. 

From his lie detection skill there was obviously something Marshall wanted from this, and because of that, Ricky couldn't bring himself to take him seriously.

Sigh

"Yeah, you're right, I did come to you with a different reason and I apologize for not being truthful with you from the start." Marshall sighed heavily, clenching the hat in his hand before looking up.

"I'm from Harlem, Ricky." Marshall finally started speaking about himself, about his truth to Ricky who simply sat there.

"Growing up, I always wanted to help people, I wanted to make a difference, but I soon realized that this world was unfair, how cruel it really is for someone like me." Marshall decided to lay it all out, showing Ricky everything he was as a man.

"Injustices, hate, and all the suffering I witnessed with my own eyes, watching as people were treated as lesser simply because they had a little more pigment in their skin than others." Marshall looked down, pausing for a moment and then looking back up.

"I realized, from a young age, that the only way to stand up for yourself was to beat your oppressors at their own game." Marshall's voice rose, showing the passion laced in between each syllable.

"But even when I rose up, educated myself, I was always told that I'd be nothing but a negro with a briefcase." Marshall gritted his teeth, his hat crumbling under his own grievances.

"Even when I rose to new heights, achieved good grades I was still told that graduating high school, then college, and then law school now made me an educated negro, and it infuriated me." Marshall said, setting his hat down on the table before standing up and pointing at Ricky.

"I know you don't care, and I know you're only looking out for yourself, but I see something different in you." Marshall's eyes fixed on Ricky with a mix of hope and conviction, as if he could see a side of Ricky that no one else could, a side capable of something more.

"I see a man who returned a club back to its roots and even opened up a bank for the common black man." Marshall said, his eyes filled with hope while looking at Ricky who had a plain expression.

"I see someone who looks at another not for what they are, but for who they are, in a time that is common to look down at another for being lesser because they are different." Marshall continued, trying to spur any emotion out of Ricky but he simply stared at him.

"Even now, even then, when I came to you and you looked at me, you don't see some negro, you just saw Marshall, a man who just wanted to make a little bit of difference in this world through the world of law, you saw me." Marshall gripped his hands tightly together, feeling as if his words were falling on deaf ears.

"You're right," Marshall admitted, his voice steady but tinged with a hint of vulnerability. 

"I wanted to take this case so that I could use it as a precedent for other legal battles on discrimination, especially since your mutant abilities intersect with civil rights issues." Marshall confessed, showing his real intentions on this matter as Ricky still remained silent.

"This case could be bigger-no, it will be bigger," Marshall continued, his tone firm and passionate. 

"You have the power to say no to the money and become the difference." Marshall said, his voice growing more intense. 

"You can be the figure that kids, kids who didn't choose who they are, look up to, someone they can see and think, 'That's what I could become.' Ricky, you can be the change." Marshall explained, unable to hold back his excitement if this case actually pushed through.

However, Ricky simply looked at him, not uttering a single word as Marshall slowly gazed down, interpreting the silence as a sign that Ricky wasn't convinced.

Sigh

"Could you-....could you at least give them your answer tomorrow, for me?" Marshall asked, his voice softening. Ricky sighed but nodded, the agreement made simply to end the conversation.

"And Ricky." Marshall continued, pausing at the door and slowly looking back 

"Even if you do take that deal, and even if you are a mobster, I still can't help but respect you for coming farther than most people would." Marshall gave his final remarks and walked out of the room, leaving Ricky alone with his thoughts.

"What do you think?" Ricky looked to the side, Chester flapping his wings and arriving at the table.

"It is a good deal, and considering you're in enemy territory where a single civil case has never won against the county, it might be the best you're going to get," Chester remarked, offering his honest opinion.

"But the reason it's such a good deal is because they're scared of what you can do, but in the end, the choice is yours." Chester then furthered his own opinion, giving his last words before Alexander puffed out his furry chest.

"Ricky, my comrade, a battle is only as notable, as memoriable as the lengths its generals are willing to go, remember that. Alexander said, standing proudly on Chester's back as the two familiars flew out of the window soon after, disappearing into the horizon.

Ricky leaned back in his chair, fingers drumming lightly on the armrest as he stared at the sheet of paper before him. 

He wasn't one to back down from a challenge, but this deal was the very reason he had come all the way down here. 

Sure, the idea of becoming a symbol of change had its appeal, but Ricky was a mobster first, a mutant second and a sliver of a doubt that wondered if he could even win.

He'd never been one to question his abilities, not since that fateful encounter with Dracula, the only time he'd ever felt truly uncertain of himself. 

But accepting this deal felt like running away, like surrendering to a system that had always been stacked against him.

All day long, Ricky sat in that room, the silence pressing down on him as he studied the paper in his hands. 

His mind raced, torn between the temptation of the deal and the feeling that it would be a surrender of everything he stood for.

Ricky found himself lost in thought, reflecting on the parts of himself that had grown up in a world that often seemed indifferent and for the first time, he wondered what the future would hold for his children.

He'd always been indifferent to hate, people's opinions never bothered him.

But then, there were his bastards, the little rugrats who clung to his pant legs, the ones who called him 'Dad' What would life be like for them?

They'd unknowingly become his soft spots, and he couldn't shake the thought of how their childhoods would unfold.

For those who inherited the mutant gene, what kind of challenges would they face?

And for the ones who didn't share that trait, how would it feel to grow up with a mutant father?

It was actually unsettling to think about and honestly, Ricky didn't want them to feel lesser, didn't want them to feel out of place or ashamed.

Instead, he wanted them to grow up proud of who they were, to hold their heads high, no matter what the world threw their way.

The crowd outside gradually dissipated, leaving only the distant chirping of crickets to fill the silence of the room. 

Ricky sat there, his thoughts heavy, as the quiet stretched on, broken only by the occasional rustle of papers.

Then, the door creaked open, and the familiar sound of footsteps echoed in the hallway as Ricky's lips curled into a small smile as the door clicked shut, revealing Raven standing in the doorway.

"Hey, Tiger, something on your mind?" Raven asked, her voice a playful melody. 

She swayed her hips as she made her way toward him, effortlessly sliding into Ricky's lap and leaning back with a confident smile, her eyes locking onto his.

"How did you know?" Ricky asked, his voice muffled as he hugged her tightly, resting his face in the crevice of her neck. 

Raven's eyes shifted down to the settlement papers, her gaze soft but focused as she felt his tension seep through.

Raven felt conflicted at that moment since right before her lay the means to squash the trial and keep history on track, but at the same time, the thought of 'what if' suddenly crossed her mind. 

What if taking this path would change everything? 

What if Ricky's choice would shift not only their futures, but the balance of power in ways neither of them could predict? 

She couldn't deny the uncertainty gnawing at her, but she also couldn't ignore the man she cared for, caught between his ambition and the weight of his decisions until another stream of thoughts entered her mind.

What if Ricky managed to win this civil case against the government?

What if this case set a precedent for the future and changed the future in a way she always hoped for?

"Let me guess, are you here to tell me to take it?" Ricky looked up at the conflicted Raven, his eyes searching hers. 

She turned back to him, her hand gently caressing his cheek, as if trying to soothe the tension she could feel radiating from him.

"I-I don't know." Raven spoke quietly, her voice betraying her inner conflict as she hesitated. Ricky tilted his head, puzzled.

"Isn't this what your future predictor, or whatever, said? Taking this deal would keep everything as it was, right?" Ricky asked, his tone edged with surprise as he thought for sure Raven would want him to take it.

She picked up the paper, her fingers brushing over the terms as she glanced down, still uncertain.

"Everything I do, whether it's an act of kindness or a gross atrocity, I do it in hopes that mutantkind can prosper." Raven's eyes grew distant, her gaze hollow as she set the paper down as she leaned back into Ricky's embrace, staring up at the ceiling, as if searching for some answer in the shadows above

"But what do I have to show for it? Nothing, I've changed nothing and merely watched our kind be wiped out time and time again." Raven gave out an honest answer, confiding in Ricky who looked up at her.

"Sometimes I-....I think the future is bleak, unforgiving, and I only hold onto it because I'm scared that the present will never change." Raven voiced his fears, looking back at Ricky who pulled her close

Their lips met again, briefly, a soft and fleeting touch before they pulled away as Raven rested her head on his shoulder, her breath steady against his skin.

"Then I'll change it, just for you," Ricky whispered softly into her ear, his words a promise that lingered in the quiet room. 

Raven turned her head, still resting on his shoulder, her gaze meeting his with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

"It's not that easy, time has a way of correcting itself and even if a future is wrong, the premise remains the same-"

"Then help me, stand by me as we change it together," Ricky said, his words firm and unwavering as he wanted her by his side, wanted to tie her to this mission as much as she had tied herself to him.

"You don't mean that-"

"You're right, I don't." Ricky said, his voice surprisingly sincere. 

"I really don't care about mutant kind, but I'm willing to change reality if it means you're by my side." Ricky spoke the words without fully realizing their weight, his passion evident as he looked at Raven.

"You really like me, don't you-"

"I do. How many times do I have to say it?" Ricky whispered, gently caressing her cheek as his heart always beat like a steady drum whenever he saw her.

"What if you do win, what if the future is even worse." Raven let out her biggest insecurity as Ricky pulled her forehead closer and kissed it.

"If we fail under the spotlight, and the world caves in on us, we do the only thing we can do; give it the middle finger." Ricky laughed, his eyes glinting in a playful light as Raven pressed her forehead against his, looking at him with a mix of admiration and uncertainty.

"So, what are you going to do?" Raven asked, her voice soft but curious, as Ricky gently picked her up and walked toward the window.

"Ride towards tomorrow," Ricky answered with a determined smile, his words carrying weight. 

With a subtle motion, he floated out of the room, Raven wrapping her arms around his neck as they soared through the air, heading back to their house.

"Then saddle up tiger~"

Next Day,

Ricky had never intended to be the change and yet, through his actions and the misunderstandings that followed, he had inadvertently become it. 

People twisted his intentions, clouding the true purpose behind his every move and now, he found himself at a crossroads.

At some point, Ricky would have to choose whether to continue down the well-worn path of conformity or to stand against the tide of social expectations. 

This wasn't just a simple decision, it was one that would shape the rest of his life. 

And now, for the first time, as he fully grasped the weight of what lay before him, but he didn't hesitate this time, finally knowing what he wanted for himself.

"Mr. Luciano, it is good to see you," Hawkins greeted, offering a firm handshake as he placed the documents in front of Ricky. 

Ricky turned to his left, noticing Marshall's welcoming gaze, a hint of anticipation in his eyes as he silently acknowledged any choice Ricky made here.

Marshall nodded, giving Ricky the go-ahead. Ricky took the pen, hovering over the spot that would guarantee him one million dollars. The tip of the pen was mere inches from the paper, but then Ricky pulled back with a gleaming smile covering his face. 

Hawkins raised an eyebrow in confusion, while Marshall's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the sudden hesitation.

"Mr. Lucinao what are you-"

"It's obvious but I'm not gonna f*cking sign it." Ricky laughed, purposely getting Hawkin's hopes up so that he could crush it.

"Really?!" they both exclaimed in shock, but their tones couldn't have been more different. 

Hawkins was filled with incredulity, while Marshall's sounded more like disbelief as Ricky simply shrugged, his expression unreadable as he leaned back in his chair.

"Yeah, if I sign this, then I'm essentially losing," Ricky said with a casual shrug, his voice steady. 

"And I don't want to go back to New York with my tail tucked between my legs. I want to raise it high, like a 'f*ck you' to everyone who ever doubted me." Ricky leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering, as Hawkins sat there, utterly flabbergasted, struggling to process what he'd just heard.

"You do know that if this goes to trial, you'll be publicly crucified, hated by the general public, and even face threats to your life?" Hawkins asked, his voice tinged with disbelief as he glanced over at Marshall, who, to his shock, had an excited smile playing across his face.

"And you even hired a negro, A NEGRO, to take your case in a place that still lynches!" Hawkins began laughing hysterically, his words dripping with contempt and Ricky, however, merely shrugged, unfazed by the outburst.

"I'm not scared, Marshall are you scared?" Ricky showed his intentions, turning to Marshall and asking for his as the attorney smirked.

"No, I am not," Marshall replied calmly, turning to the defense attorney with an unwavering gaze.

"And my client has already turned down this proposal, your honor. We will be taking this to trial." Marshall then turned to the silent judge, who, after a brief pause, slowly removed his glasses, his expression unreadable.

"Then by the state of Texas, I, Judge Smith, see the claim and accept it." The judge nodded firmly, standing up from his seat. 

Hawkins, however, wore an expression of disbelief, his mouth slightly agape as he processed the unexpected turn of events.

"Judge this is ludicrous-"

"I apologize Hawkins but my hands are tied on this matter, the law is the law and I have to uphold it in this case." Judge Smith's neural tone rang out before his gaze turned to Ricky.

"You know the government won't stop until it buries you, until I bury you." Dewey pointed a finger, his voice laced with venom.

Ricky smiled, unfazed by the threat, and with a calm, almost amused expression, he turned and walked out the door, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the tense silence.

"Oh, I know, but when I win and trust me, Dewey, I'll win," Ricky said, stopping and turning back to face the serious Dewey and Hawkins.

"I'll be untouchable."

The next morning, the Texas papers printed something unimaginable, a headline that spread like wildfire across the globe. Men and women of all kinds stopped in their tracks, staring in disbelief at the bold letters that stared back at them.

'Ricky Luciano: The Mutant Who Takes on the System.'

It was a story that defied expectations, one that no one saw coming, and yet, everyone would remember. 

News spread like an uncontrollable blaze, from the crowded streets of New York to the farthest corners of the world. 

People, regardless of nationality, background, or allegiance, began to learn the name Ricky Luciano, and it left a mark on their minds, as if they'd been struck by lightning.

Lucky looked at the newspaper and smiled, his old view of Ricky completely shed as he set the paper down with a proud grin, the shift in his perspective clear as day.

"He finally decided to take a step forward, atta boy."

Meanwhile In a secluded part of scandinavia,

Rachael wore a small smile as her hand gently traced the picture of Ricky, her fingers lingering on the image before she looked down at her protruding stomach, a wave of warmth filling her.

'Good luck, Ricky."

Sitting at the dining table, Raven rested her head on her hand, watching Ricky make breakfast with a smile, her gaze softening as she admired the moment.

'He's really doing it.' Raven thought, watching Ricky with a mix of disbelief and admiration as she had taken his earlier words as the boastful ramblings of an arrogant man, but now, for the first time, she might've judged him wrong.

In her whole life, Raven had always believed that mutants could only survive by banding together and fighting against humans. 

But Ricky had just done something entirely different as he wasn't just challenging the status quo; he was taking on the very notion that mutants didn't deserve a place in this country, in this world.

'I guess I'll have to stay for a little while longer, to see how it plays out.'

Papers were quickly printed and distributed all across America, filled with slanderous remarks. 

They landed at the feet of one community after another before hatefully thrown into the nearby alleyways, their harsh words seeping into the streets, fueling the growing tension and division.

But it was in these damp, dark alleyways that hands reached out, slowly dragging the headline deeper into the shadows.

Mutants from all walks of life saw the paper, each one drawn to it with a shared understanding: they all remained in the shadows. 

From those with fins protruding from their skin to those who had concealed their powers their entire lives, they each gazed at the paper in silence, feeling a spark of something they hadn't allowed themselves to hope for in years.

Hope filled their eyes, a spark igniting in the hearts of mutants across every age range. It didn't matter how old they were, or where they came from. The only thing that mattered was the bold words staring back at them, offering something they had never dared to imagine, validation, a future where they might finally belong.

Meanwhile in a darkened room,

"You called us from all around the world for a simple piece of paper?" A man scoffed, his arm highlighted by a red armband that bore the Nazi symbol as he threw the paper aside, the image of Ricky's sleazy smirk mocking him from the page.

"This Ricky Luciano is a public mutant who is about to make history, and he isn't even a member of the Hellfire Club." A woman wearing white pointed out, her voice sharp and resolute as the man scoffed, clearly unimpressed.

"History? He's just like all the others and is only going to get himself killed. It's not time for us to move when I'm so close to unlocking the mutant gene." The man insisted, his voice tinged with frustration. The woman couldn't help but scoff in response, her eyes narrowing.

"A birdie told me he's the Black Knight," a woman dressed in all black spoke, her voice calm but carrying a weight of mystery. 

Instantly, all eyes in the room shifted to her, drawn by the enigmatic aura that seemed to hang around her.

"That's impossible, the black knight is-"

"On leave from the church." The woman continued, her words carrying an undeniable authority. 

"If this Ricky Luciano is not only a mutant but a mutant with high status, then the White Queen is right." Her statement hung in the air, leaving little room for dispute as the man slowly averted his gaze, the weight of her words sinking in.

"Then what do you suggest?" Another man from the side curiously asked as the woman smiled.

"Then what do you suggest?" another man asked from the side, his tone laced with curiosity as the woman smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes as she leaned forward. 

"I suggest we watch the show." She picked up the paper, her fingers brushing over the bold words, her black eyes gleaming with a mix of intrigue and anticipation at what they read.

'Ricky Luciano: The Mutant Who Fights Against America's Way Of Life.'

Author's Note: never wrote about court stuff before, tell me how I did and as for seeing your comments. I've decided to get drunk, play games, and listen to REO speedwagon so I'll look at them tommorrow.


Chương 127: Chapter 123: Judge & Juror's

A week later,

When a claim for a case is accepted by the judge and its respective state, it marks the beginning of a meticulous process that serves as the backbone of the justice system. 

Contrary to popular belief, a trial doesn't immediately start when the case is accepted, even if it is outright like Ricky's. 

Instead, the legal machine we call our justice system shifts into motion, navigating a labyrinth of preparatory steps designed to ensure that justice is carried out to its proper procedures.

Among these, one of the most significant and meticulous stages is the selection of the jury.

The jury, a group of citizens tasked with deciding the case's outcome, is a cornerstone of any case or judicial process and yet, assembling this panel isn't simply grabbing random people like straws. 

It is a delicate balancing and thorough act that requires the careful consideration of both practical and ethical factors that each side, being the accused and defense, take into consideration.

Before the courtroom fills with the murmur of arguments and evidence, lawyers and legal teams engage in what might be described as a chess match in which the board is the courtroom, the lawyers are the players, and the jurors are the pieces.

The law declares that anyone is innocent until proven guilty, a statement that is meant to safeguard fairness and protect the accused.

But, in the realm of jury selection, this ideal is tested by the skill and cunning of the lawyers who wield their questions and challenges like chess pieces in play. 

In reality, the winner of this game often has the upper hand in determining the trial's outcome, for the composition of the jury; its perspectives, biases, and capacity for impartiality, can shape the trajectory of the entire case.

However this process begins with the summoning of potential jurors, often drawn at random from voter registration or driver's license databases. 

These individuals, notified through formal summonses, represented a cross-section of the community which Ricky now found himself gazing at through his very window. 

Seeing first hand what kind of representation this community had as they all gathered outside his current residence, their picket signs raised high, each bearing slogans that shouted how much they hated him in such vivid colors that would leave people impressed at their coordination if it wasn't filled with hateful slurs.

"Ugh, I knew I should've taken the million bucks," Ricky muttered with an aggrieved sigh, taking a slow sip of his drink as his gaze drifted out the window, blatantly ignoring the officers seated across from him.

"As we were saying Mr. Luciano, we'll escort you out the back-"

"The back?" Ricky repeated, glancing over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in skepticism as the chief of police met his gaze with a firm nod of assurance, his expression unwavering.

"Yes, it is dangerous out there-"

"Are you kidding me? These guys?" Ricky frowned, gesturing toward the window just as a rotten tomato splattered against the glass, perfectly punctuating the officers point.

"They're just a bunch of chihuahuas; all bark, no bite," Ricky scoffed, dismissing the officer with a wave of his hand, his demeanor radiating confidence and a clear lack of concern.

CRASH

Then, as if the timing couldn't have been more perfect, a brick crashed through the window, landing with a dull thud before rolling to a stop between them. 

Their eyes followed its path, drifting down to the brick and then back up to meet each other's gaze, a shared silence speaking volumes.

"Listen, I made this case a big deal because I wasn't afraid, and I sure as hell ain't backing down now and let me tell you, a couple shards of glass isn't even gonna scratch me." Ricky said with a dismissive yawn but Marshall had a reluctant expression, still staring at the brick that had the n-word and mutant written all over it.

"Marshall, let's go," Ricky ordered, gesturing toward the door as he yanked Marshall out of his seat and began walking out without hesitation, leaving the officer staring in surprise at his abruptness.

"MR. LUCIANO YOU CAN'T JUST-"

"Can't hear you, I've already made up my mind!" Ricky called out, his voice carrying as he descended the stairs, ignoring the chaos around him while everyone rushed to catch up.

Ricky strode confidently toward the double doors, which swung open with a forceful creak. 

As he stepped outside, the crowd gathered in front of his house fell silent, their expressions filled with nothing but utter contempt and yet stunned to a silence. 

The surprise of his sudden appearance seemed to momentarily still the air, as if even their anger had been momentarily caught off guard by Ricky's boisterous confidence.

"Good morning, my fellow Americans!" Ricky boasted loudly, spreading his arms wide to welcome the onslaught of hatred. 

His voice rang out, cutting through the tension, until a flash suddenly erupted, momentarily blinding him and unfreezing the crowd in place.

An anxious photographer, waiting patiently at the side, seized the moment, capturing a shot that would be displayed in history books in school.

But the flash of his camera set off a chain reaction, prompting the other photographers around him to snap their own shots in quick succession.

"YOU FCKING MUTANT SCUM, PIECE OF LOW LIFE TRASH! GO BACK TO THE SHT HEAP YOU CAME FROM AND STOP RUINING OUR WAY OF LIFE!"

"I HATE YOU, MY WIFE DOESN'T LOVE ME AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

"THE LORD IS ON THE SIDE OF THE AMERICAN PEOPLE AND THE PEOPLE WANT YOU GONE!"

Flashes erupted from every direction, and insults were hurled at him from all sides, turning the scene into a media frenzy. 

Despite the barrage of negativity, Ricky stood unfazed, basking in the chaos as if it were all part of the show.

"They love me, they really love me!" Ricky said in a heartfelt tone, obviously mocking the crowd before him which all became red faced in fury at his taunting.

"DAMMIT, HOLD THE LINE!" The chief barked, his voice cutting through the tumult. 

The officers scrambled into action, rushing forward to form a barrier, desperately trying to keep the seething crowd at bay.

"Let's go, Marshall." Ricky slung his arm around Marshall's shoulder, grinning as more flashes erupted around them. 

Posing for the pictures that would one day be synonymous with civil rights whether America liked it or not, Ricky's sleazy smile stood in sharp contrast to Marshall's worried, stubborn expression, capturing the tension between them in a single frame.

"You're crazy," Marshall whispered, his voice barely audible as he gazed around, his eyes darting from the jeering crowd to the flashing cameras. 

The oppressive weight of the chaos seemed to close in on him, every movement and sound making the air feel thick, as if it might swallow him whole at any second.

"That's why folks love me," Ricky laughed, giving Marshall a playful pat on the shoulder as someone began to push their way through the crowd. 

The noise swelled around them, but Ricky's confident, almost carefree demeanor never faltered.

"Love?" Marshall scoffed, gesturing toward a nearby sign that read 'Die Devil Die' in bold, angry letters. 

"They love to hate me, don't they?" Ricky countered with a smirk, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

Marshall glanced around, surprised as a reporter quickly scribbled in his notebook, clearly having found a headline in the moment. 

Meanwhile, a man weaved his way through the picket line, his eyes focused as he reached into his coat, drawing an unsettling silence from those nearby before reaching into his coat.

"THIS IS FOR AMERICA!" A fanatical man screeched, his voice trembling with intensity as he leveled a gun directly at Ricky's head. 

The crowd froze, the air thick with tension, as the sudden shift in danger hung like a dark cloud over the scene.

"GUN-" The chief yelled, trying to rush over to Ricky and bridge the distance only for the lone gunman to pull the trigger.

BANG

BANG

Screams erupted, the crowd recoiling in horror at the sight they'd feared but as quickly as the terror had ignited, a strange silence fell over them, broken only by the relentless flashes of cameras. 

The shock wasn't just from the shooter, but from Ricky himself who had, with a calm, almost amused smile, stopped the bullets mid-air. 

They hovered for a moment, suspended in time, before they dropped harmlessly to the ground with a soft clink of metal.

"Sorry, buddy, but bullets aren't enough to whack me," Ricky laughed, his voice full of mockery as he shoved a terrified Marshall forward as the police rushed in, quickly apprehending the man.

"FREAK!"

"MONSTER!"

The hate continued to pour from the crowd, their chants and insults a constant barrage as Ricky made his way to the car and with a casual wave of his middle finger, he acknowledged them, his smirk never wavering. 

Marshall, still shaken, followed closely behind, his eyes darting nervously as they both climbed into the vehicle. 

As the doors slammed shut, the sound of the crowd's fury seemed to fade, but the tension lingered in the air, a reminder of the storm that had just passed.

"Alright Marshall, it's your turn."

Later in the courthouse,

HUFF

HUFF

"Breath, you're doing great." Ricky said half-heartedly, looking at his watch as Marshall was crumpled near a wall while breathing into a brown paper bag.

"Could you at least pretend to be sincere?" Marshall asked, his voice shaky, his face sweaty and pale from the tension as Ricky glanced at him, shaking his head with a slight chuckle.

"Not after that whole speech you gave me yesterday, I expected you to have more bravado than this. I mean, I know gerbils with more guts than you," Ricky laughed, his voice dripping with a light mockery as Marshall slumped against the wall.

"Well, I'm sorry, unlike you, it's my first time being shot at," Marshall jabbed back, his voice tinged with frustration and Ricky let out a light-hearted laugh, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Good point, but still, pull yourself together." Ricky replied, still grinning Dewey walked in from the side with Hawkins.

"Oh look Hawkins, it's tweedle dee and tweedle dumb-"

"Eh, try again," Ricky interrupted, making a buzzing sound with his mouth, mocking Dewey's attempt at an insult.

"You little-"

"Eh, I'm taller than you short stack, try again." Ricky interrupted him once more, the buzzing sound echoing as Dewey scrunched his brows.

"Nothing? Alright, my turn," Ricky grinned, leaning in as Dewey hatefully squinted his eyes. 

"What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef. What do you call a cow with one leg? Lean beef. What do you call a cow with two legs? Yo mama." Ricky laughed at his own joke, clearly amused by himself and even stooping as low as Dewey's mama would when she got on her knees from 9-5 everyday.

"You see how I didn't interrupt you there, that's how a professional acts," Dewey spewed out, showing his professionalism only for Ricky to laugh right in front of his face. 

"More like a professional scrub, you're the bottom of the barrel at this point and everyone knows it." Ricky laughed louder, unable to help himself as Dewey had no legs to stand on to even meet his gaze.

"And yet, it was enough to cast you out," Dewey took a step forward, his voice laced with a bitter satisfaction, reminding him of his hand in that decision as Ricky looked down at him, unfazed, his smile still firmly in place.

"And yet, it still wasn't enough," Ricky's tone turned murderous, though his smile never wavered as he'd have dumped Dewey's body into a shallow grave if he didn't want him to suffer first.

"God, you're still the same. You think that just because you're in the limelight it makes you important, but it's not," Dewey laughed, wiping his mouth as if Ricky hadn't changed a bit as he still saw the same kid from three years ago, the one who didn't know better.

"Do you know how many mutant scum have done what you're doing? You're nothing but a cheap knockoff of their real efforts." Dewey continued, his words biting but Ricky's smile only grew wider at this provocation, his eyes glinting with unspoken amusement. 

"If anything, I'm the upgrade." Ricky chuckled, his tone full of quiet menace, daring Dewey to say anything more.

"Let's go Dewey, we have a case to win." Hawkins interjected, patting Dewey's shoulder and pulling him away as Ricky watched him leave.

"Hold onto that hope Dewey, it's just gonna be more enjoyable when I crush it right in front of you!" Ricky called out behind him, Dewey turning his sight forward and looking back at Marshall.

"Get up and get in there, you have to crush Hawkins so I can laugh in Dewey's face." Ricky yanked Marshall to his feet, the man taken aback before looking dumbfounded at him.

"That's not how jury selections work-"

"Then lawyer that sh*t up and conjure a victory." Ricky unreasonably said, pushing him forward as now it wasn't about simply winning at the end, but torturing Dewey throughout the process and then crushing him.

Walking into the courtroom, various volunteers plucked from the community stood at the side, awaiting whether they would take part in history. 

The process of approval was a careful one, overseen by both the defense and prosecution teams. 

Each juror would be scrutinized, with questions aimed at uncovering any biases, personal connections, or preconceived notions that might cloud their judgment.

The judge, seated at the bench, would oversee the proceedings, ensuring that the selection process adhered to the principles of fairness. 

Lawyers would engage in 'voir dire', a method of questioning designed to reveal any potential conflicts of interest. 

They sought out impartial individuals; ones without preconceived opinions about the case at hand or any ties to those involved.

However what made it important was that both sides had the ability to object to a juror's inclusion, using challenges for cause if they felt a particular juror would be biased, or peremptory challenges to remove jurors without needing to give a reason. 

It was a process designed to ensure that the twelve men and women who would ultimately decide the fate of the defendant were fair and unbiased, according to the law.

Seated, the bailiff slowly walked out and positioned himself in the spot where he had been standing for twenty years and uttering the same thing every time.

"All rise for Judge Mason!" The bailiff yelled and with it, everyone rose to their feet, including an uninterested Ricky.

"Be seated." Judge Mason raised his hand and with it, everyone then sat back in their chairs as he settled into his chair.

"Before we begin the voir dire process, I want to remind each council that this is an essential part of the trial." Judge Mason said, offering a quick rundown but his words weren't directed at the lawyers, but at the jurors, who often didn't fully understand how the process worked as he paused, ensuring his next words were clear.

"Both parties will both have the opportunity to ask questions to the potential jurors to assess their impartiality." Judge Mason's words surprised the Juror's at the side, fidgeting in place and wondering what type of questions they would be asked. 

"But remember, your duty here is to listen, observe, and make your judgment based solely on the evidence presented during the trial." Judge Mason continued, his tone steady and firm as he made eye contact with each juror, emphasizing the gravity of their responsibility. 

"Any preconceived notions, personal biases, or opinions unrelated to the facts of this case must be left outside this courtroom." Judge Mason warned, watching the potential jurors nod in unison.

"Proceed with voir dire."

AHEM

Hawkins was the first to approach the woman labeled on his briefing as Juror #1. 

In fact, all jurors had their identities concealed and were assigned numbers to prevent any tampering or undue influence. 

The anonymity was essential, ensuring that no one could approach them outside the courtroom or attempt to sway their opinions and as he stepped forward, Hawkins studied the woman carefully.

"Juror #1, do you believe you might have any bias when considering individuals of different races in this case?" Hawkins first asked, looking at the blond woman twirling her hair in between her fingers.

"I wouldn't say that, I've made love to many white and black men-"

"The defense would deny Juror #1," Hawkins interjected sharply, his voice cutting through the room like a knife. 

"Objection, Your Honor. This question is irrelevant to the case at hand and is designed to invade the privacy of the juror without any basis for relevance-"

Bam

"Overruled, Juror#1 you're dismissed." Judge Mason spoke without hesitation, showing no tolerance for the objection and slamming his gavel down on Marshall's Words.

Although Judge Mason had portrayed himself as fair in Marshall's eyes, the true colors of the judge's impartiality were starting to show. 

Slowly, Marshall rose from his seat, a quiet tension settling over him as he prepared to address the court.

"Juror #2, thank you for being here today. I just want to ask you a few questions to ensure that you can remain fair and impartial throughout this trial. Do you understand the importance of basing your judgment solely on the evidence presented in this courtroom, and not on anything outside of it?" Marshall smiled at the man before him, watching the man scowl at him and cross his arms.

Then, without uttering a single word, his intentions were made painfully clear as the man leaned over, spitting a mouthful of dip onto the floor. 

The tobacco hit the polished tiles with an almost deliberate slowness, then splattered onto Marshall's dress shoes, leaving behind an unmistakable stain of saliva-riddled tobacco.

Sigh

"The accused would move to deny Juror #2-"

"Objection, the juror hasn't even spoken a word yet and clearly accidently missed his cup." Hawkins objected, smiling while looking at Judge Mason who nodded his head.

"Sustained, continue your questioning, accused, until something more concrete is proven to deny this juror." Judge Mason easily agreed with Hawkins, Marshall holding in his laugh at the bluntness but kept his professionalism.

"Juror #2, can you assure the court that you will remain impartial, regardless of any personal biases or opinions you may have toward either party in this case, including me?" Marshall words were measured, aiming to draw out a response that might reveal something useful, something that could give him a reason to challenge the man's eligibility.

"F*ck you." The man muttered, his voice dripping with disdain. He then deliberately spat on Marshall's suit, the saliva landing with a sickening splat. 

Marshall's jaw tightened, and he turned to Judge Mason, gesturing towards the Juror while keeping himself composed.

"Juror #2, please be careful where you spit. If you slip up one more time, there will be repercussions," Judge Mason warned, his tone firm as he pointed his gavel at the juror as the man simply smiled in response, unfazed by the threat.

"Yes, your honor." Juror #2 side-eyed Marshall, clearly mocking him as the man rubbed his chin before laughing.

"Your Honor, I'd actually like to accept this juror on the grounds that he seems like someone I'd be friends with, someone who I think would trust me with his ears during this entire trial." Marshall said with a mocking smile, changing his approach and lacing his words in a way that they had to be objected to but Hawkins wouldn't since arguing against his words could lead to an actual denial.

"This man, right here, clearly knows how to make an impression with his spitting honesty that I just can't help but see us as two of kind-"

BAM

"YOU SHUT YOUR F*CKING MOUTH, WE AIN'T NOTTIN ALIKE YOU FUCKING N-" The man socked Marshall right n the mouth, unable to hold himself after seeing the blatant comparison of someone he thought was lesser than him.

"BAILIFF!" Judge Mason, who prided himself on how he maintained his courtroom, was enraged that this juror dared to do such a thing.

The bailiff rushed to yank Juror #2 away from Marshall, almost about to lunge at the lawyer currently picking himself but before wiping his bloody nose.

"Your honor, the accused would move to deny Juror #2." Marshall huffed out, adjusting his suit as Judge Mason squinted.

"Granted."

BAM

4 hours later,

The juror selections proceeded in such a manner that Marshall had to pull out every trick in his book just to deny one, let alone accept one, while Hawkins breezed through it with ease. 

Each challenge felt like an uphill battle, every juror seemingly handpicked to stand against him.

It was becoming almost a spectacle, and Dewey's laughter cut through the tense atmosphere. 

He was standing off to the side, an arrogant grin plastered across his face as he observed the proceedings. 

Ricky, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the jurors with quiet intensity.

So far, eleven jurors had been selected, and out of them all, only four seemed to lean in Ricky's favor after his lie detector had dissected their responses as he sat back in his chair, his mind calculating the next steps.

'I'll have to interfere with at least three, five to be safe.' Ricky thought to himself, not bothering to admit it, even internally. 

Ricky wasn't going to sit back and rely solely on the process, even now he was already planning to commit witness tampering. 

Ricky didn't care for morality so being unbothered by the legalities of this situation wasn't any shocker as all that mattered and was remembered was the result, and at the end of the day, it was the victors that wrote history.

Not the losers.

However, an anomaly appeared before Ricky, one that left him completely puzzled. Before his eyes stood the epitome of white trash, a trailer park hick in the flesh. 

The man wore a Southern flag plastered on his ragged hat, his toothless grin barely concealed beneath the grime that seemed to cling to his face. 

A lip full of dip added to the image of a hillbilly plucked right out of the seedy backwoods. 

His appearance, disheveled and foul, seemed to come straight from the muck he'd been lingering in for years, yet he stood there, somehow just as much a part of this trial as anyone else.

But the real oddity came in his words, or rather, his lies. 

Every question Hawkins asked was met with a clear and blatant lie, each one ringing even more fiercely than the last in Ricky's head. 

However Hawkins, clearly delighted by the man's appearance rather than his responses, used this to his advantage, bolstering his case and ensuring that Marshall would have the hardest time disproving the juror's claims. 

It was as if Hawkins had found a goldmine in this man, a willing pawn to solidify his position which made Ricky even more confused.

"Let him in," Ricky whispered, his eyes fixed on the picture-perfect appearance of the man, someone who, by all accounts, would despise his very existence.

"But he-"

"Do it," Ricky whispered, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as Marshall facepalmed in response, clearly reluctant, but as Hawkins approached his desk, Marshall stood up and still hesitated for a moment, then let out a resigned sigh.

"The accused accepts Juror Number 12," Marshall declared, his words seemingly not registering within Hawkins ears.

"Objectio-huh?" Hawkins, who finally realized what Marshall said, couldn't help but laugh out and look at him dumbfounded.

"Are you giving up?" Hawkins poked fun at Marshall, the man standing there and thinking this was the biggest mistake.

"Then we have ourselves a jury, gentlemen," Judge Mason announced, striking his gavel down onto the table. 

The jurors stood up, one by one, and filed out of the courtroom and as they did, each one cast a brief, lingering side-eye at Ricky, their glances filled with a mixture of curiosity and judgment.

"Ricky, are you sure-"

"It's a gut feeling," Ricky confessed, his voice calm and collected despite the chaos around him. 

Marshall, already drained from the entire process, facepalmed even harder, knowing deep down he should've expected this.

"Fine, you better be right."

The next day,

"Has it arrived yet?" Marshall asked, his expression tinged with worry as he turned to Ricky, who casually drank his water without a care in the world.

"Yeah, I sent it after you told me. They said I'd get the letter when the trial started, or something like that." Ricky shrugged nonchalantly, while Marshall dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, looking more stressed by the second.

However, instead of conversing, they found themselves being stared at by everyone in the courtroom, as if they were under a magnifying glass. 

The weight of the eyes upon them felt palpable, each gaze scrutinizing their every move and word.

"Plaintiff, your opening witness or piece of evidence?" Judge Mason gestured to him as Marshall thought of stalling only for Hawkins to stand up first.

"Your honor, the prosecution is clearly-.....stalling?" Hawkins' statement trailed off, his words turning into a question as he turned around to the soft sound of a rustling paper.

There, his eyes saw the double doors gently being opened as a man adorned in cardinal robes walking in with a single letter.

"Your Honor, I would like to submit my first piece of evidence into the court: a letter from the Pope himself. This official is here to verify the authenticity of my remarks." Marshall stated confidently, gesturing toward the man standing at his side.

"Objection! The Pope's words have nothing to do with this case!" Hawkins shouted, his voice sharp with disbelief as he stood, pointing at Marshall with a look of incredulity. 

"Your Honor, the defense statement stated that Mr. Luciano's rights were vacated due to threats from both the government and God, thus making the Pope's words valid since he is the voice of God for the globally recognized Church, the Vatican." Marshall countered confidently, standing firm in his position. 

He glanced at Hawkins, who looked at him with a mix of disbelief and annoyance, before turning his gaze toward the judge.

Hawkins clenched his jaw, but didn't interrupt, instead casting a quick look at Dewey by his side, silently communicating his frustration.

Judge Mason's gaze lingered on the cardinal, who smiled serenely, almost as though he were accustomed to such attention. 

"Do you accept these words, Attorney Marshall?

"Yes-"

"Your honor, does our defense not have a say-"

"You've already made your opinion clear. Although this is not God's house, you've managed to bring God into this, and now you must deal with its consequences." Judge Mason ruled, his gaze shifting toward Marshall.

"The court will accept the letter into evidence, along with the witness." Judge Mason gestured toward the cardinal, who smiled and stepped forward.

"Greetings, Your Honor, and esteemed members of the court." The cardinal began, his voice calm and measured. 

"I am Cardinal Sebastion, and I am here to read the words of His Holiness."


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