A few days later. Malger Manor, the outskirts of New Amsterdam City.
"Bad news, Boss! Bad news!" Marsha Kiva Rancher, Alex's personal assistant, shouts as she rushes into Alex's study.
Alex, who was absentmindedly using his powers to flip bits in an electronic "toy" created for him by Ku-Tu, silently stares at Marsha for a second before asking, "Why aren't you using the intercom?"
Panting heavily Masha responds, "They're being upgraded. Anyway boss! You got served. The Process Server just dropped off the papers at the charity."
Being served means that a defendant is being notified of a legal action taken against them by a plaintiff. The actual "papers" being served are the initial complaint filed with the court, along with a summons to appear in court in order to respond; a complaint is a form that says how the person was hurt, who hurt them and how much the damages are; while a summons is a notice that says there is a lawsuit.
"Ok, what do you mean by served?" Alex asks.
"Jynep Partners filed a lawsuit on behalf of a Ms. Kim Benitt." Marsha explains, "The complaint says the traps on the mansion grounds are a safety hazard."
"What are you talking about?" Alex queries.
"Remember the break-in? The one with the fake Lexi?" Marsha asks.
"Yes?" Alex answers questioningly.
"Apparently, she's working for a fully licensed and bonded agency; and they're suing." Marsha explains.
"That's complete bullshit!" Alex curses, "What about standing your ground? She broke and entered. Get my legal team, we're fighting this."
-----
North Atlantic Ocean.
Sebastien Monnet sold the location of the island he discovered to the Superhero Association, who promptly called it "Paragon Island".
During the past few days, teams of experts and superheroes have arrived to explore the island and the mysterious stone fortress that sits on top of the plateau. It is not going well, however.
Although Paragon intended for his successors to defend America from the "Forces of Darkness", superheroes are still rare; with less than two thousand across the entire United States. Consequently, the Superhero Association supplements their teams with prior military and mercenaries.
"What do you mean we lost another team?!?" Silver Star asks.
Silver Star, a muscular man wearing a silver costume with a gold starburst on his chest, is the apprentice and former side-kick of Golden Star. He has devoted decades of his life to superheroics and the Superhero Association, and many expect that he will eventually "inherit" Golden Star's powers and position as the top ranked superhero.
In the meantime, Silver Star has been acting as the primary agent and voice of the Superhero Association's upper echelon.
The security manager, Jake Laki Valtadoros- a fit white man in his late 40s, responds, "The structure is like a tesseract or a gateway to another world, it's much bigger on the inside. We're trying to reestablish comms, but it's going to take a while."
Silver Star sighs and asks, "Do you need me to take an active hand?"
Jake quickly replies, "No. No. We have it all under control."
"Good." Silver Star nods, "I would hate to report a loss to the higher ups."
-----
Upstate New Amsterdam State.
For the past few days, Natasha Kamarilla and her team of vampires, thralls, and minions have been building a black pyramid inside a large cavern in the "middle of nowhere".
"Oh. Put this brick here, and that piece of stone there… we gotta make it look old. Like old old." Natasha flutters around directing her crew.
"Seriously though," Birdy Tsun mutters, "why are we putting so much effort just because the Empress wants a new thrall?"
Birdy Tsun is one of Natasha's favorite minions. A good worker with a strong, reliable back, Birdy's observations have saved Nastasha significant effort on more than one occasion.
Natasha overhears him and replies, "One of the first rules of bonding is to share common experiences. And what better experience than to put people in dangerous situations? If it's not even a minor threat to the Empress, the acting will be too fake."
"Wait. Tell me again why it's a pyramid?" Birdy Tsun asks.
Natasha snaps, "It's for aesthetics! Don't question it."
Natasha has been under significant pressure from Empress Night, who wishes to meet with the Judgementor as soon as possible. Consequently, she has been getting a bit short and irate.
"Seriously though," Birdy Tsun comments, "Who ever heard of a pyramid in the US?"
"Look." Natasha responds, "Are you the Storyweaver? Or am I?"
-----
A private room in the Superhero Association, American Northeast branch.
Tyrone comes to a realization and says, "You're fucking with me aren't you? No way in hell would anyone, in this day and age, have the balls to make a commercial like this."
Tyrone's agent states, "No. It's a legitimate offer."
"What the fuck!" Tyrone angrily tosses the script on the table, "Why are you even showing me this piece of shit!!! I'm not some... some... house negro."
The agent attempts to pacify Tyrone by saying, "juicy endorsement contracts are typically snapped up by more established heroes, but you.. You're uniquely suited for this. In fact, you're a shoo in, they specifically asked for you."
The endorsement in question is for Hanna's Fried Chicken (HFC).
And the script calls for Tyrone to eat a piece of fried chicken before clearing his throat with a swig of watermelon juice and saying, "this is some smacking good chicken". Meanwhile, in the background, a rich white plantation owner- wearing an immaculate white suit, plays a fiddle while "happy people of color" sing and dance. In short, the script is trash.
"Hell no!!!" Tyrone declines vehemently, "You want me to... take this role?!? It goes against everything I stand for!!!"
"There's a lot of money at stake." the agent continues, "You'll get a million dollar signing bonus, and over three million for each commercial appearance. Not to mention residuals every time the commercial is aired. If I were you, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"You're not me." Tyrone says while shaking his head, "And no way in hell am I doing this. Get me something else."
The agent replies, "This is the third contract you rejected. I think... I think we have a fundamental disagreement, and I can't keep working for peanuts. I recommend you get a different agent. But I'm telling you, you'll regret turning down all these offers."
Tyrone paraphrases the Bible, "What profits a man if he gains the whole world but loses his own soul?"
"Beats dying penniless." the agent counters.
-----
A few days later.
Alex's office. Fourteenth floor - Malger Building - in the city center of New Amsterdam City.
Alex is having a meeting with his legal team; Bart Murphy, Jason Trevais, and Elanor Diep.
"Aren't I covered under both the 'Vigilante Act' and the 'Standing your Ground' laws?" Alex pointedly asks.
"Kinda…" Elanor replies as she hands Alex a document, "but look here."
Alex looks through the document and remarks, "I refuse to settle. She broke and entered... *I'm* the victim here."
Bart explains, "In our combined forty plus years of experience, we recommend settling... It'll be less of a hassle for everyone involved. Besides, you don't need bad press. And believe me when I say the press would have a field day. Just give them a dollar, issue a non-apology letter, and they'll go away."
Alex asks, "What kind of 'non-apology letter' are they looking for?"
Bart says, "Something along the lines of … 'I, Alexander Malgar- the Judgementor, express regret that your decision to trespass upon private property leads you to believe I am in any way responsible for injuries you've sustained'."
Alex asks, "Won't it set some sort of precedent if I settled?"
Bart assures Alex, "Everything will be in the public record."
"Ok." Alex says as he agrees to sign the non-apology letter.
-----
Unfortunately, certain media outlets only reported that the Judgementor was sued and "settled" out of court- ignoring the terms of the settlement.
For instance, on the TV show, "the Krapson Factor".
The Krapson Factor is a MinxNews talk show and current affairs program hosted by commentator Tim Krapson. The show typically invites guest commentators and includes political commentary, monologues, interviews, and analysis.
The Krapson Factor had just finished mocking the CDC's guidance on not kissing or snuggling backyard poultry (in order to prevent salmonella) by bringing a self-described "chicken kisser" on the show. The show devoted an inordinate amount of airtime to the "chicken kisser" describing her daily routine in kissing chickens before finally moving on to the next topic- the Judgementor settling his most recent court case.
"... the only reason why Alex would settle is because he's guilty. Guilty as sin." Tim says, "No one wants to fight a losing battle."
"But the public record states..." the 3rd guest commentator- Jessy Willie begins to say.
Tim interrupts, "Think of it this way. Would you settle if you were innocent? I wouldn't. You, our viewers, wouldn't. The guilty Judgementor knows he would not have a snowball chance in hell of winning."
"But..." Jessy attempts to speak.
Tim interrupts, "Why do you hate justice so much? Our legal system was founded on the very premise of justice and equality for all. Trial by peers! Trial by jury! You don't want vigilante justice do you? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth; we're beyond that. Anyway... that's all the time we have for today. Thanks for watching the Krapson Factor, the sworn enemy of lying, pomposity, smugness, and groupthink."
With a "pop", the TV turned off.
A portly, balding, middle age white man- Tom Thompson, reclines on his chair in the double-wide trailer he calls home.
Nodding to himself, he thinks, "I looked at that case. The Judgementor was clearly in the right, but his legal team settled... Ergo, his legal team must be pushovers. They're afraid of bad press. I can use this. Time to buy a ticket to New Amsterdam."
-----
Inside the apartment that serves as the hideout of the Gilberto gang - New Amsterdam City.
"Well, well, well", Juan Gilberto, leader of the Gilberto gang, says, "you have a lot of balls to show up here alone, Redd".
Surrounding Redd are seven Hispanic youths armed with chains, pipes, and knives.
Glancing at the youths, Redd says, "As of today, you are all members of the Irregulars".
"I heard you've been taking over other gangs", Juan replies while laughing, "but I didn't think you were this crazy. Loco..."
Suddenly Juan and his gang members collapse on their knees; twitching, writhing, and moaning in pain. Weapons, and other handheld devices, fall harmlessly on the ground as the gang members spasm.
"I'm not crazy!!!", Redd hisses as he grabs a knife and holds it to Juan's throat.
Juan's eyes widen as he spits out through clenched teeth, "How... how are you doing this?"
"Kill him", the Ring of Murkem whispers into Redd's mind, "and everything he has will be yours".
In response to the ring's prompting, Redd coldly slits Juan's throat.
As Juan bleeds out, Redd looks at the twitching members of Gilberto gang, "You are now members of the Irregulars; obey or die."
"Any questions?", Redd asks.
The members of the Gilberto gang continue to twitch and moan in pain, unresponsive to Redd's question.
"They mock your authority", the Ring of Murkem whispers into Redd's mind, "They're ignoring you".
"Bastards!", Redd shouts as he uses his knife to slit a random gang member's throat, "I said. Any questions!?!"
Trembling voices ring out from the gang members in response: "No", "Not I", "No sir".
"Good", Redd says with a self-satisfied grin on his lips.
-----
Three days later. New Amsterdam City.
"Ahh!" screams Tom Thompson, as he purposely stumbles and falls on the ground, some 300 feet away from the ongoing battle between the Judgementor and some thugs.
The thugs have attempted to break into a jewelry store, but they had the misfortune of running into Alex.
In response to Alex's intervention, the thugs took out their weapons, intending to "make a name by gutting a super".
Consequently, the air is thick with the scent of ozone as Alex used his powers to impede the thugs' vision and wrap up their weapons before finally subduing them.
"Damn it." Alex thinks as he hops into his customized limo bus- the Vehicle of Judgement. The bus is white and silver, heavily armored, and has decals of blue thunderbolts plastered all over it.
As the driver begins to maneuver the vehicle, Alex removes his body armor and massages his sore chest.
"Damn it!" Alex thinks, "Getting shot hurts like a mofo. I need better body armor... maybe with more padding."
Alex was completely unaware of the impending lawsuit by Tom Thompson… at least until the next day.
-----
The next day.
"Who is this guy? And why am I getting sued?" Alex asks as his tailor measures him for a fitting.
Alex's personal assistant, Marsha Keeva Rancher, responds, "He was one of the failed applicants on the Successor. And he's claiming that he was injured in your fight yesterday... the one at Greenwich Gems."
"I don't remember seeing any nearby bystanders…" Alex begins to say.
"He wasn't close by, sir." Marsha interjects, "Cameras put him about a short block away."
"...Damn it!" Alex curses, "I really don't have time for this. Fight. Fight every single lawsuit. I don't care who filed it or the reasons behind it. Give my legal team whatever authorization they need."
"May I make a suggestion, sir?" Marsha asks.
"Go ahead." Alex says.
"It would make Legal's job much easier if there were cameras filming from multiple angles." Marsha suggests, "I recommend we increase the number of drones."
-----
Lunchtime. Firenze Steakhouse - New Amsterdam City.
"Why are we here?", Redd softly hisses as he tucks into a medium rare steak.
"Master", the Ring of Murkem whispers into Redd's mind, "You said you wanted to start a war between the crime families".
"Yes. But why am I here?", Redd mutters.
"Have you forgotten, Master?", the Ring of Murkem whispers into Redd's mind, "the Scaramuccia man said that his boss always has lunch here on Wednesdays."
The Ring of Murkem continues, "It's the best place to meet and talk with him... unless you want to meet him on his home turf; at Don Peppe".
"I haven't forgotten!" Redd shouts.
The customers and staff at the steakhouse stare at Redd in response to his outburst, before quickly turning away and resuming their meals.
More softly Redd says, "I... I just had a lot on my mind".
"And... and I'm scared", Redd continues.
"Don't be afraid, Master", the Ring of Murkem comfortingly whispers into Redd's mind, "Trust in your plan. Trust in your power".
"Have you ever been wrong?", the Ring of Murkem finishes, "Not from what I can see".
"Yes! Yes!", Redd shouts, "I'm not wrong!"
The customers and staff at the steakhouse stare at Redd in response to his outburst, before quickly turning away and resuming their meals.
"Excuse me sir", says a waiter, "If you don't keep it down, I'm going to have you ask you to leave".
"How dare you!", Redd angrily hisses, "Why I ought to..."
"Master, please control yourself", the Ring of Murkem whispers into Redd's mind, "Remember the plan".
"Yes, of course", Redd says before addressing the waiter, "Sorry".
The waiter shakes his head as he walks away; he hopes the crazy man will leave a good tip, but somehow he doubts it.
"Master, look over there", the Ring of Murkem whispers into Redd's mind as it directs Redd's attention toward the door.
Looking at the door, Redd sees Paul Scaramuccia, the boss of the Scaramuccia crime family, entering the steakhouse with his bodyguard Thomas Gravano. The pair are immediately seated at a private booth.
"Ok", Redd says to himself while slapping his face, "It's go time".
Tossing a wad of cash on the table, enough to pay the bill plus a generous 30% tip, Redd gets up and approaches the duo.
"Mr Scaramuccia", Redd respectfully says, "I'm a huge fan."
Thomas looks at Redd with suspicion as Paul carefully replies, "It's always a pleasure to meet one of my fans".
"I appreciate what you do for all of us, keeping us safe and giving us jobs, but you know, the Karoleks…"
"What about them?"
"I hate the Karolek family and I know you do too. In fact you hate them, so much that you can't stand to see them on God's green Earth a second longer", Redd says as the Ring of Murkem flashes with a blood-red light.
"You're right! You're god-damn right!", Paul says while slamming the table with his fist, "I hate them so much".
"Maybe we can work together..," continues Redd.
"Boss..," warns Thomas.
"Shut-it. Everyone out!!" commands Paul.
Redd quickly walks off as Paul whips out his cellphone and speed-dials a number.
"Joey", Paul sternly says as the call connects, "I want the Carols gone, and I want it yesterday…. Not Christmas carols you buffoon, the Karoleks."