Chương 57: Felons

"Steven Miller, you earn felony child endangerment," Cox continued, following behind the cart as it rolled to a stop.

"You drove four minors into a combat zone. That's forty years. Roland Tetsuya gets criminal reckless driving, the lightest of the bunch. The boys. Oh, you boys." He kicked the toe of one shoe against the tile.

"You collect felony criminal mischief, destruction of property—both private and public, and reckless endangerment."

"We were nothing but speed bumps for that thing!" Kenji shouted, wincing as he leaned forward.

"The spider wrecked the buildings. We just got thrown through them." Ignoring the outburst, Cox turned to Kurisu.

"With the prime suspect here earning multiple counts of First-Degree Assault on a Federal Officer or member of the military. Twenty years each."

"What the hell is your problem, man? You were there. You saw what happened. He was literally in the mouth of a giant spider!" Kenji exclaimed.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't lose your cool after that, too."

"I was not present for the whole exchange, but yes, I have reviewed every minute of it via dash and body cams, as well as other surveillance media. He represents a Tier One threat to National Security," Cox argued.

"It doesn't matter what caused his loss of control. What matters is that it happened." He panned his eyes over the adults.

"Additionally, the ownership groups for the downtown infrastructure are invoking 'Act of War' clauses to deny insurance payouts. They're filing a hundred-million-dollar civil suit."

"They saved lives," Gloria said.

"Lives that the National Guard wasn't equipped to save, and if they had stood by and done nothing, that thing would have destroyed homes with people in them, turning a few damaged buildings into hundreds or thousands of deaths."

"The injured parties care about damages, Mrs. Tetsuya, not heroism," Cox said.

"And right now, the damages are in the hundreds of millions. Without a monster to serve papers to, they're coming for you. Your houses. Everything." He looked at Kurisu.

"You did a number on these boys, and you got your hosts in a whole slew of trouble here."

"If it wasn't for him, we'd probably be dead," Kellevra called out. Cox gave the boy a patronizing smile.

"Trauma bonds really are a tragic thing to witness. We have counselors at DHS who specialize in exactly this kind of psychological conditioning. You do remember who put you here in the first place, right?"

"Technically, you," Ace answered.

"It was you who arrested us and had us brought here."

"And who was it that caused you to require a hospital instead of a holding cell?" Cox turned his attention back to the parents.

"Explain to me how the companies wanting civil damages know the identities of children," Charlotte demanded.

"They don't. Right now, they are filing against 'John Doe one through four.' But my office holds the cell-site pings, the traffic cam footage, and the biometric sweeps from the wreckage. We're the only dam holding that water back."

"And you." He flicked a folded piece of paper in Krause's face.

"I want every bit of documentation you have on them dating back to May ninth. Now." With a scowl, she slowly pulled the sheet open, reading it before eyeing the agent.

"Very well."" Now," the agent repeated, motioning to the door.

"Goodbye." He then angled toward the room at large again.

"Nothing to say? Anyone?" As the door shut behind him, Cox took in a large breath.

"Oh, don't look so glum. I'm not without mercy. I've even come with a deal. Sign over permanent federal oversight of these boys and the asset to DHS, and we bury the charges and take care of the debts. Refuse… we let the civil courts bankrupt you." If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Pushing out of his chair, Roland walked to the table. He placed a single sheet of paper on top of Cox's file.

"The damages are leveraged," he said quietly. The agent scoffed, picking up the paper.

"And what is this?"

"It's called 'The Guardian Fund,'" Roland replied.

"A public campaign set up by the survivors. Specifically for 'John Doe one through four of the downtown spider attack.' It broke four million dollars this morning, covers the restitution for the small businesses through an anonymous trust, and keeps the boys' names entirely out of the civil filings."

"Four million against a hundred million?" Cox questioned.

"That barely covers the broken glass. And the small businesses? What about the corporate stores?"

"You misunderstand. This isn't to cover the civil suits; it covers the public relations," Roland corrected, adjusting his glasses.

"If the City or the AUSA proceeds with prosecution or throws us under the bus to those corporations, my attorney takes us straight to Discovery. He subpoenas the National Guard and deposes Homeland Security regarding the origin of the threat. We make the source of that spider the central issue of a televised trial." He smiled, stepping in closer and whispering loudly enough for all to hear.

"Isn't that why you failed to promise prosecution if we refused?" Silence. Kurisu watched as Cox's throat convulsed, as he set his molars together, the vein in his temple twitching.

"Do you want a federal judge asking where the rifts came from, Cox?" Roland pressed.

"Do you want litigators spending three years trying to redact discovery motions on live television? Or would you rather find a federal grant to make the civil suit disappear?" Cox growled, "Damn you." He took a step back, fiddling with his tie.

"Fine. The AUSA will bury the charges. But I still get him." Pivoting, the agent turned his glare onto Kurisu.

"Under the Patriot Act, I possess the authority to detain combatants who pose a biological risk, regardless of their age. I'm moving him to a secure facility in Nevada at 0800 tomorrow."

"The hell you are," Charlotte said. Hands steady despite the tremor in her voice, she snatched the stack of papers Steven had been holding before slapping them onto the table over Cox's file, revealing the gold seal of the Arapahoe County Court.

"He is a United States citizen," she stated.

"And he's our son." Cox stared at the gold seal.

"How did you get this?"

"After a huddle with Mr. Thorne, our family attorney, Ms. Parks went to see Judge Halloway in chambers," Charlotte countered, holding his gaze. Ripping the paperwork from the envelope, Cox scanned the legal decree, his face darkening.

"This is perjury. Halloway waived a scheduled hearing because your lawyer lied to him."

"No perjury. She used only verified facts." Charlotte shook her head.

"She filed a motion stating we were hospitalized due to injuries from the disaster, and provided our flawless nine-month placement history. Then she argued that leaving a traumatized minor in the bureaucratic limbo of state custody while stuck in a hospital was cruel."

"Best interest of the child," Steven added.

"She advised the judge that it was best we had legal permanency to manage his medical care. With a family injured in a city-wide crisis, the judge signed the paperwork to give us stability. Absolutely nothing was a lie." Crushing the edge of the order in his fist, Cox snapped his head to Steven.

"I was there with you before the healing, when you two fought about this. You explicitly said you were pulling this adoption. That he wasn't safe."

"Oh, I'm still furious. I don't trust him," Steven said, stepping up beside Charlotte.

"And, yes, I fully intended to cancel the hearing. But he gave my son's legs back. I owe him. Add to that, he's staying old so he's less of a danger." Pointing a finger toward Kurisu, Steven narrowed his eyes.

"But if he even looks like he might be about to pull that shit again, I'll kill him myself." The crumpled decree thrown back onto the tray table, Cox smoothed his jacket, his hands shaking. With no further argument, he turned on his heel and walked out, the door quietly clicking shut behind him. They all stared at the door.

"Hey Dad," Kenji said, making his way back to his own bed.

"Does the Guardian Fund cover pain and suffering? Or at least a new PlayStation?"

"It covers keeping you out of federal prison. Nothing more."

"Lame."