Chapter 190 Law.

Chapter 190: 190 Law.

"Why, sweetie, I’m Miles’s lawyer!"

...What?

"Huh?" was the only articulate syllable my brain managed to assemble.

Across the table, a single brow ticked up on Micheal’s completely impassive face. "I beg your pardon?" he droned.

"Oh, you heard me, honey!" Lilith squealed, clasping her crimson hands under her chin while her spaded tail swished merrily behind her. "When I heard Milesy had been arrested, I was simply beside myself! Distraught! Heartbroken! And surely, sweetie, you weren’t actually planning on denying my client legal representation, were you? That would be terribly naughty! Why, the paperwork alone would bury your little bureau in lawsuits until the next millennium! Ever so many!"

Mister Invincible gave a hearty, booming chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck with an hand. "Ha-ha! Well, no, ma’am, not at all! Just a slight mix-up in our intake procedures. We’re simply holding him as a precautionary measure while city transit coordinates a transport unit suitable for a villain of his caliber. Perfectly standard protocol!"

"Oh, pumpkin, please!" Lilith cooed, her high-pitched, bubbly voice purring like a cherry-red sports car idling at a red light. "You weren’t honestly planning to hold my Milesy over a scuffle that your girl initiated, were you? You cannot possibly tell me you’ve forgotten Omnitron’s Precedent. You must have read it, right? You must have!"

Cloudfire blinked, finally saying something. "Omnitron’s? Whoa, whoa, slow down there, little. Our job’s to get villains, I don’t read case law."

"Clearly, honey! Clearly!" Lilith chirped, taking a strutting step forward, her sheer blouse stretching precariously over her chest. "Because if you did, you’d know that under the 1983 ruling of Omnitron v. Blackwing, it is strictly illegal for any cape—licensed, sponsored, or freelance—to detain an individual, even an openly registered villain, unless they are actively in the middle of a verifiable felony! It’s basic statutory procedure, sugar. Terribly easy to overlook when you’re busy being heroic, I’m sure!"

"Now, hold on just a second," Rick protested, holding his hands up defensively. "No need to start slinging legal jargon around. We’re all professionals here!"

"Oh, but sweetie, if we don’t mind our legal manners, wherever would society be?" Lilith pouted adorably. "The law has to be followed to the letter! The teeny-tiniest, absolute letter! Otherwise, why, we’d just have handsome men in capes doing whatever they want without any oversight at all! And we simply couldn’t have that, now could we?"

I sat there, my mouth literally hanging open, watching the six-foot-three succubus cheerfully steamroll the golden boys of American heroism.

It was like watching a hyperactive cartoon character out-argue an eight-foot brick wall.

"Well!" Rick blustered, glancing awkwardly between Lilith and the drab man sitting next to him. "That’s... uh... certainly some very specific legal precedent. Impressive! Fantastic, really. Can’t think of a single objection. Micheal?"

Micheal didn’t react. He sat motionless for three agonizing seconds, his eyes fixed on Lilith.

Realizing that any unprovoked federal charge would drag this into an open courtroom where the mall footage would have to be entered into public record—the one thing his neat, quiet little frame-up couldn’t afford.

"She is... correct," Micheal said at last, the words coming out completely flat and joyless.

"Well! Look at that! Case closed!" Rick declared, slapping the table with enough force to make the metal ring before catching himself. "Terribly sorry about the inconvenience, Polaris. Truly! You know how I get—sometimes I just have a bit too much enthusiasm for stomping out villainy! Micheal, be a pal and undo the manacles, would you?"

Micheal rose without a word. He stepped around the table, every step deliberate and utterly devoid of wasted motion.

With a smooth twist of the key, the heavy tungsten cuffs clicked open, falling loose onto the steel tabletop.

"There we are," Micheal droned.

I rubbed my wrists, feeling the dull ache of the suppression field lingering in my bones. "Yeah. Thanks. And," I said, locking eyes with the drab bureaucrat, "I’ll be needing my armor, my bracers, and my boots back. Intact."

"Of course!" Rick barked, flashing two gleaming thumbs up. "Wouldn’t dream of withholding personal property! Hey, I know how sacred a uniform is to a hero! Ah—sorry! Meant villain. Ha-ha!"

"Ha. Ha," I deadpanned.

"Right this way, Milesy!" Lilith squealed, immediately looping her crimson arm through mine and yanking me out of the chair so hard my boots barely touched the linoleum. She pressed her side flush against me, her spaded tail flicking happily against my calf.

"See you real soon, Polaris!" Rick called out in a singsong voice that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I looked over my shoulder as we reached the heavy blast doors.

Micheal Carter was standing behind his chair, his glasses back on his nose, staring directly at me. The barest shadow of a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

He didn’t need to win today. He had Mystic on ice, Cloudfire and Rick in his pocket, and an entire federal apparatus ready to rubber-stamp his orders. He held the whole damn deck.

Then I glanced at the towering red demon dragging me out by the elbow.

Maybe he holds the deck, I thought, but I’ve still got a few wild cards.

"Surprised to see me, Milesy?" Lilith whispered eagerly as we stepped out into the pristine main hallway of the BSA headquarters, her high heels clicking against the tiles like an erratic drumbeat.

"Honestly? Yeah," I muttered, keeping my voice low. "How did you even—"

"Oh, Milesy, please!" she whined, waving a dismissive crimson hand through the air. "How could I just sit on my hands? Those poor sweet darlings, Rhea and Psyren, practically broke down the chalet doors! They were in absolute hysterics! Tears everywhere! And shame on you, Milesy, for letting those precious girls worry like that. For shame!"

"It wasn’t exactly my plan to get tackled by an S-lister while shopping," I replied dryly.

"I know, sweetie, I know! But a supervillain simply has to be more careful! You have an image to maintain!"

Her vanilla-and-brimstone perfume filled the hallway as we walked toward the intake lockers to retrieve my magnetic gear.

Every federal agent and low-level cape we passed stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes tracking us with naked hostility and bewildered disgust.

Word had clearly spread like wildfire that the S-class heroine Mystic had been put in deep freeze, and I was currently the most hated man in Metro City.

Lilith, naturally, couldn’t care less. She gave a perky little pageant wave to a stunned strike team standing near the elevators.

I grabbed my bracers and boots from the intake clerk, who practically threw them at me just to get me to leave, and glanced up at the demoness.

"Lilith," I asked, genuinely baffled as we headed for the front lobby doors. "Where in the nine hells did you learn about Omnitron v. Blackwing?"