//------------------------------// // Tribunal Interrupted // Story: Children of Chaos // by Mike the Red //------------------------------// I sat in my cell and looked at the barren walls which appeared to have been freshly painted. "Why would they use a high gloss paint?" I thought to myself. The facility seemed as though it had been recently constructed, the smell of newness permeated the prison. Considering I had spent about a month in a much smaller cage, this was acceptable to me. I was given decent food on a regular basis, and had people I could talk to. I know I wasn't supposed to be enjoying my time while being held in custody, but actually having someone to talk to made me feel a lot better than when I was staying in my home. I was actually becoming something of a celebrity due to my actions, receiving attention I wasn't exactly sure I wanted. I would receive mail from all over the world, most of it hateful, some of it supportive, some sympathetic, and the overwhelming majority of the mail being death threats. I never sent any responses, as I didn't really feel like writing anything to anyone, not even the Princess herself. My recurring nightmare of jumping off the bridge hit me again several times before I was to be led into the courtroom for my trial. Discord visited me twice to show me Stephanie, and how she was developing. Her hues were darker than EJ, but her body was shaped very similarly. She cooed to me as I held her close, feeling a very strong bond between her and myself. Discord smiled at this display of affection. "So, Twilight, are you prepared for your trial?" he asked. "Discord, I'm scared. I don't know what to expect and I am deeply ashamed of myself for having destroyed Twilight's reputation and name." "I can fix things if you want me to," he offered, flashing his evil grin once again. "Every time you have "fixed" things for me, the problems have compounded upon themselves with interest liberally added." "Twilight, you wound me! I'm hurt! You know I only have your best interests at heart," he said. His words rang hollow. "I don't believe you. What's done is done. I have to go through with this, and I would suggest you do as well, as ridiculous as that sounds." "They could sooner stop the planet from rotating on its axis than place me under arrest, let alone try and convict me!" he laughed, sounding a bit angry. "I know you're untouchable -- I am, too, to some extent -- but my conscience bothers me. I have the blood of nearly five billion people on my hooves, and I just can't go on living a lie. I'm sorry to have troubled you." "I have appreciated your company, Twilight, and I also appreciate what you've done for me. So I give you one final gift -- and even though it's not much, I feel it is something you truly deserve." He waved his lion paw at me again, and I felt another transformation occur. I looked at my new body, and found I had been transformed back into my old human body. "DISCORD!!" I shouted. "Don't DO this to me!" "You're not Twilight, even though I called you that," he said. "This is what you were before I changed you. This is what you're supposed to be. So, Michael, you will have to go back to being human, and you will have to deal with that. You have done well for me, and again, I thank you for all you've done, but I no longer have need of your services. Enjoy your freedom, and enjoy your prolonged life-span, you have earned it. You deserve it!" "Discord, the thing I enjoyed most about being Twilight was the magic use. I feel empty now, not being able to wield magic like her." "You still have that amulet I gave you, don't you?" he smiled mischievously. I returned his grin. "You mean I can still use that thing, even though I'm human? Will it work for me?" "Give it a try," he said, flashing his evil grin once again. I hate it when he does that. "So long, Michael! Take care!" With that, he disappeared again, making me wonder if I was ever going to see him again. The transformation made me very tired, so I laid down on my too-small cot and tried to rest as best I could. When a guard saw me, he called his supervisor who rushed to my cell. "What are YOU doing in there? Where's Twilight? And where are your clothes?!" he asked with great surprise. "Discord showed up, and took her with him, and dropped me off here. He has a twisted sense of humor," I said flatly. "What's your name?" "Michael Walker," I stated. "Where do you come from?" "I used to call Champaign my home, but my last known address was near San Diego." "Oh, the United States. You say Discord dropped you off here? Where did he go?" "I have no idea -- one minute, I'm sitting in my recliner watching TV, next thing I know I'm being stripped of my clothes and put in this cell." "Well, we'll need to get some more information from you. First, we're gonna get something for you to put on, we can't hold you in a cell without any clothes!" I waited in the cell for about an hour while the magistrate and various other authorities were contacted, and a prison jumpsuit was fetched for me. No underwear, just a jumpsuit -- at least it was better than nothing. As far as searching for my identity, that proved to be much more difficult. It turns out that when I was running around Memphis without the use of magic, my wife had filed a missing persons report on me. After a considerably lengthy and intensive search failed to locate my human body, I had been declared legally dead. "Reports of my demise have been greatly exaggerated," I joked. The guards failed to find my sense of humor amusing. "Amazing you show up nearly four years after a missing persons report was filed on you. Where have you been?" "Stranded on a desert island, trying to make do with items scavenged from an airplane wreck," I joked again. "Stop playing games with us, Michael. We want the truth, so tell us. Where have you been?" "My wife -- she never liked me," I said, again with a Borat-style accent. The guard was losing his temper now. "What was your wife's name?" he asked impatiently, and not without a good degree of anger coloring his voice. "Brenda Walker. A boyfriend she took in by the name of Alonzo claimed to have killed her," I said, not joking this time. The guard did some more searching and found a record of my wife's murder, and the man's name who killed her, Alonzo Wilson. I had always wondered what his last name was -- he had been convicted of her murder, and sentenced to life without parole, owing to the severity of the crime, and his attempt to cover it up. "Okay, sorry about that, Michael. We'll do some follow-up paperwork, and we'll get you back home as soon as we can."