What happened

The days following the trial had left her feeling odd, as if there was something unfinished. Maybe there was or maybe it was her own frustration of the legal system. Somethings were just not as they should be. A man like that Napier should have gone away for a good long time, not been given the chance to break free and cause what seemed like even more damage then before.

Even now as she curled up on the paisley sofa of the Starbucks and sipped the frothy overpriced mocha, she could see it. Mostly because it was front page in the City Voice in front of her. Headlines as to the atrocities committed since the inmates quite literally took over the aslyum. She sighed and flipped back to page one. Break in the gas line at City Hall, that sounded bad. The picture was vivid it captured the destruction with a skilled eye.

Gasp.

The mug rolled from her fingertips and fell to the floor shattering into white shards and foamy coffee. Eyes could not look away from the photo, or more correctly the credit line beneath it. Trembling fingers manged to pull her cell phone from her purse.

"The number for the City Voice please?"

Heart beats pause as the connection was made.

"Yes, 'Voice?"
She could not keep the tremor from her own voice.
"Could you put me through to Peter Parker?"

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Judge McRiley entered the court room and sat down. The room was eerily silent.

"Bailiff, enter the jury, please."

The group arrived in a single file line and filled in the seats. The judge remained quite for a good five minutes after everybody had settled in. He was gathering his strength for this. There was no telling which way the jury had voted. No way to know what they were thinking right now. And he wouldn't know until he called for his answer.

It had to be done. Putting it off would not make things better.

"Miss Forman, have you come to a decision?" He asked.

"We have, your honor." Said a slight blonde woman.

The judge motioned for the slip of paper. It was brought to him, and he read it. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not. He passed the paper back.

"Please read it for the court."

She nodded. "On the count of malicious harassment we find the defendant guilty." She paused and went on. "On the count of assult, we find the defendant guilty. On the multiple counts of murder, we find the defendant guilty."

"Thank you."

"Sir? We have a recommendation."

"Go ahead."

"Given the light of the situation surrounding these crimes, and what we've seen in this court, we have deemed Jack Napier unfit for the public. We see him as severely mentally ill, and would request the court take that in stride with the sentancing."

"Thank you, Miss Forman, you may sit."

The judge, frankly, felt the same way himself. Jack Napier should not, in any case, ever, be allowed to commune with the populus. It wasn't right. There was too much danger in it, and in him.

"I don't think I need any time to think this over. I am ready for ruling now. Please stand, Jack Napier, and hear your fate." He waited for Jack to stand, and was surprised that there wasn't anything wild or scary going on. "Given the decision of the jury, and their recommendation, and given the state of this entire trial, I have to agree with the idea that you are completely mentally unfit. For anything. I cannot in good conscience send you to prison and hope that you get the help that you need. And that society needs for you. So. My ruling is this: Life imprisonment in Arkham Asylum with a strick rehabilitation program. I have no faith that you'll ever actually get help, but, we can hope."

The gavel banged. It was over.

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Judge McRiley had the world's biggest headache. Between the trial itself and the pending end of it, his head was almost constantly protesting. His body was tense to the point that he thought he'd have to take a week off and fill it with near constant massages in order to relax his muscles.

They were so very close to the end of all of this.

He turned ot the jury and sighed heavily.

"We have heard the closing statements of the lawyers, and I believe that they have both made their cases as best could be done considering the situation at hand. I have decided to strike absolutely none of this from record, so in your deliberations, you are to take every bit of it into account. I want you to all consider long and hard what your decision will be. The results of this case will have effects on many, many people. An entire city, if you will."

He was silent for a moment, and then nodded, as if he'd made a choice. "It's unusual to do, but I'm going to request that there be no hung jury. You will have to make a decision one way or another, and I don't care how long it takes. This will not be dismissed."

McRiley banged the gavel once and stood. The bailiff couldn't do his duty, the judge left so quickly.

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It had begun like any other trial. Smoothly. Calmly. The judge entered and the people silenced. The baliff called for everybody to stand, and they did so, respectably. They sat just as silently, just as calmly when the judge called for them to do so. Judge Scott McRiley presiding...

It was just as the judge was settling in that the first mishap occured.

Jack Napier stood up to introduce himself to the court. And to the audience of people attending. He did so with a flourish and a bout of laughter so nerve-wracking that it took Judge McRiley a good ten minutes to quiet everybody down again.

"That is the last we'll have of that, I hope." He stated, looking Jack directly in the eye as he spoke.

Little did the poor judge know that this was only a pre-cursor to the sorts of things that could go on in a trial like this. A trial against Jack Napier. Maybe the only truly insane genius The City had ever seen. The misguided fellow might actually mistake to think he'd be able to control The Joker.

Jack himself spent a good few moments blowing kisses at Harvey Dent while Judge McRiley tried to call for order and the beginning of the trial.

He looked out at the lawyers and nodded. "Prosecution? You may begin."

And then he sat back, ready to hear this fantastic case.

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The Nagging of Karen Page had finally gotten to Matt. She kept bringing him more paperwork, typed in braille and on regular computer printouts, as an excuse to bother him about finding Foggy. He wanted to find Foggy just as much as she did, but he also needed to concentrate on this case that was fast approaching. Finally, in a moment of frustration, Matt had thrown all of his notes into a briefcase and announced he was going to the coffee shop on the corner for lunch. She could find him there if there was an emergency.

Following the smell of freshly brewed coffee, Matt made his way to the shop, briefcase in one hand, cane in the other. The shop had changed corners today. He snaked a path through traffic to get across the street. But, ever the bloodhound nose, he found the little shop...along with, what, 300 other patrons? Sighing, Matt still pushed the door open. If it got him away from Karen's interruptions, he'd do his best to block out the people. There were barely any places to sit inside, so he went into full blind man mode. Tapping his cane furiously in front of him, knocking into people's shins, apologizing with every step, Matt soon cleared a path up to the counter. The waitresses were more than sympathetic as he (purposefully) dropped his change on the floor. He had done it to figure out where people were sitting. The coins reverberated off the floor as they hit, Matt was able to quickly map out the locations of feet nearby with his radar sense. The waitress who gathered up his change and handed it back to him offered to find him a seat, which he accepted. The same girl even offered to bring him his tea and sandwich when it was ready.

As much as Matt enjoyed being independent, it was situations like this that he had to admit he milked it a little. If he could find a Catholic church nearby, he'd go to confession and get it off his chest. There were some things he did that he didn't like doing and they weighed down his conscience now and again. Waiting for his tea and sandwich to come, he opened his briefcase and took out his sprial-bound notebook of braille notes for the Napier case.

The seats were becoming more scarce as the lunch hour decended on the shop and table Matt was seated at had room for more.

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and...





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Please let me know if I've missed anyone, or if any other characters would like to participate.

Her hair looked good, eyes held the inner fire only emerald hues seem to tame so handily. She smiled prettily as she held up the bottle of clear icy cold water. This was what she'd been reduced to? Well work was work who was she to complain as long as it kept her in money for the new apartment she'd found. Quite the upgrade from the dive she'd originally been staying at, now she had some sort of view of The City. The balcony hadn't been necessary but something in her made her lean toward that apartment. Too much time spent with Pete had left it's impression on her. Easy access living, what more could a webslinging wallcrawler want?

MJ had spent the better part of the day wandering around her apartment, rechecking the shooting schedule for the next week. She was getting back into the groove, however slowly. She was a professional and determined to maintain her standards of work even if the rest of her life had yet to catch up in it's recovery. The incident in the graveyard had been a shock to the system. Brave girl that the blond was, she hadn't even had time for the coffee before she'd had to run off to fight more of those shambling dead..undead..whatevers.

She leaned forward on the balcony railing and stared across the street. They'd chosen to put the billboard there, odd coincidence in that. She could look out her window and see a fifteen foot image of herself indulging in a chilled beverage at any hour. The water deal was a good one it paid well, but there was still something disconcerting about seeing yourself on a billboard that was right out your window. Mary-Jane Watson, the one thing that never changed was that mega-watt smile.

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Ok time to really take a good long look at things.

In the past day she'd found a place to stay, it wasn't the Four Seasons but it was clean and looked reasonably safe. Safe.. funny what a new concept that was for her. She'd been married to a costumed super hero for so long that she'd all but given up ever leading a normal life worrying about muggers and thieves. When one ran toe to toe with nemesis, intergalactic symbiotes and maniacal geniuses bent on world domination a mugger tends to be laughable.

But that was all before Pete....died. She hadn't thought it was possible but even he had his limits. The city lost a hero and she lost a husband, where was the fairness in that? There was none. That was why after her day full of getting appointments with agents, finding place to live and getting some more clothes, M.J. had taken a walk. If she knew she was going to the graveyard she never told herself about it. Ambling steps just lead her that way. She should have bought flowers, on the odd chance Pete was here she would have liked to have something to leave.

After twenty minutes of roaming the stones she still hadn't spotted Peter Parkers name, unsure if she should be happy or sad at lacking even that much of a connection she crumpled to a seat on a cement bench and dropped her head in her hands. Softly weeping for the first time in a long time. Not for Pete, but for herself. Fat greedy tears of her own misery fell to her feet, her distraction making it all the easier for the shambling shadow behind her to inch forward with it's nervous twitching gait.

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Peter was gone.

It was a fact she was going to have to resign herself to. As if it wasn't bad enough that he had been brought back a beaten and bloodied corpse, no, his body had to be shredded and left like an empty husk. For everything else they had been through, there had always seemed to be some sort of hope to keep her going.

On again off again relationship, and marriage. MJ and Pete had been through it all and always ended up together, except this time. The redhead tried to comfort Aunt May, in the end the older woman left without a word, another vanishing in her life. The Avengers had been kind but in the end it was no longer her place to stay. Logan had made her very aware that he was willing to help look after her now. That was the final straw that drove her out.

MJ grabbed a cab on 47th, she slumped down in the seat and told the driver to do what he did best...drive. However far a hundred bucks could get her, it wasn't about a destination, it was about getting away. Fifteen minutes into the trip heavy lids slid down over emerald green eyes, she fell asleep.

Three hours and countless miles later a gentle jostling wakes her, sleepy eyes flutter awake and she exits the cab. Thankful for the time out of the world, time where she wasn't bothered by anyone. It wasn't until she realized she had no idea where she was that she started to panic. She was in the middle of a busy city, but with no recognizable buildings. For the woman who has modeled in every major city in the world to find herself suddenly lost, MJ stood shivering on the corner, arms folded around herself before she turned to look for a familiar sight, MJ started walking toward the center of the city.

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