Sorah

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 6

“Knowledge rests not upon truth alone, but upon error also.” – Carl Jung
“All rise, for the honorable Judge Matthews” the bailiff’s voice boomed across the empty court room. Despite the DA’s best efforts, no one in Paragon seemed to really care about the murderer she had caught – she had been inactive and ‘fighting the good fight’ for six years and her victim, Star of America, had been thought to have been dead already – the lack of a body or evidence the only thing from making it official.

The scant few people in the room sat – mostly court officers, the jury, and lowly reporters in the back of the room idly texting on their cell phones, barely paying attention.

Well, it doesn’t matter. This is still going to help my record.

McKinna Robertson looked over at the defendant, Karnal Sin, rather, Kathryn Moore. Part of her was still irked at the thought of technically prosecuting a former Senator’s daughter, but she had to remember it wasn’t Senator Moore’s real daughter but a cheap facsimile.

As she had been preparing for this case over the last few weeks, making sure to speed up the process and take advantage of the hype in the media, she was puzzled by some of the facts in the case – not that it deterred her from creating an argument for the city.

During the plea bargain proceedings, Kathryn’s lawyer didn’t even make an attempt. At first, McKinna thought it was due to his incompetence, but she quickly realized that Kathryn wasn’t interested in a plea bargain. She thought she had offered her a good deal – 25 years to life with a chance of parole and removal of her technological enhancements. This woman supposedly had a family to go home to.

McKinna turned her head to look at the galley behind the defense – where was Kathryn’s family?

“Let’s have your opening statements.”

Taking her cue, McKinna stood, smoothing out the minor crinkles in her pant suit as her blunt heels softly hit the floor as she confidently marched to the jury.

“Don’t let your eyes deceive you, ladies and gentle,” her voice was casual, as if talking to a friend, “the defendant sitting over there isn’t Kathryn Moore of this world – but Karnal Sin – a murderer.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “A murderer of OUR beloved Kathryn Moore.“

The juries eyes looked over at Kathryn, who had lifted her gaze from the front of the courtroom to stare back at them, she was almost smiling - almost. McKinna saw Kathryn’s eyes staring at the jury, catching her off guard a little before rolling into her prepared statement, “And today, the city will show you evidence of this capitol crime punishable by the death penalty – eye witness testimony, close circuit video, and admission to the crime itself. I promise to get you out of here and back to your lives as quickly as possible…”

The jury’s eyes lit up at that suggestion and turned back to the DA.

That was easy…


“Do you have any more witnesses to call, Ms. Robertson?” The judge stretched his back a little.

McKinna had called over a dozen handpicked and perfectly pruned witnesses, read the testimony given by the defendant admitting to her crime, and she had already shown the video over the course of the last three days. The video made the most impact – showing the villainess clutching Star of America’s head in her hands, exploding through a window, flying high into the sky, a torrid of energy essentially frying her victim from the inside out, the limp body falling for tragically long seconds to an anticlimactic thud on the concrete below the nail in the coffin for the defendant as most of the jury looked away in disgust.

Kathryn sat with her back straight, her hair gently tossed into a loose up-do that framed her striking features into a softer demeanor. McKinna was dying to cross examine her – just for her own morbid curiosity as to what had gotten her to snap, and Kathryn was on the witness list for the defense, but she didn’t think she’d be called. Buchanan had asked no witnesses any questions – he had taken no turn in the cross-examination of anything, and had barely addressed the jury in his opening arguments.

“The prosecution rests, your honor.”

The judge turned slightly to the defense table, “Does the defense have any witnesses?”

Buchanan leaned to his client, whispering in her ear as she casually nodded at his words.

“Mr. Buchanan?”

The defense lawyer stood, “No, your honor. The defense rests, as well.”

McKinna couldn’t help but feel disappointed. The entire process had been one sided – and she was used to her trials being a fight, a battle of logic and persuasion, a game – a dance even.

This was simply boring.


Closing arguments were robotic and the jury took no time at deliberating.

“Have you reached a verdict?”

The forewoman nodded to the judge, “We the jury, find the defendant guilty on all counts, except for the four counts for capital punishment."

Both Kathryn and McKinna looked at the jury, the former amused, the latter bewildered.

The judge responded, “Thank you Madame Foreperson, the city thanks all of you for your service. Bailiff, take the defendant into custody.”


McKinna walked out of the court house, still bewildered as a few of the reporters came up to her, “Ms. Robertson, are you shocked by the outcome of today’s trial?”

She thought quickly on her feet, “The good people of Paragon took into account of Kathryn’s last six years of service to this fine city, as well as her family. I’m not shocked at all – and I am confident that with the accumulation of her other counts, she will serve a life sentence and be off the streets permanently.”

Even as she spoke the words, her mind was screaming at her over the idiocy of it all, but her experience in the courtroom told her the words were true. The people were fickle as a group, and a sucker for a pretty face. The law was black and white in a text book, but it’s anyone’s game in a courtroom.

The reporters suddenly rushed away from her as Kathryn was being lead to a police vehicle down the steps.

“Karnal! Karnal Sin! Are you and your lawyer already working on your appeal?”

Buchanan spoke up, “The lady will not be seeking appeal, and we have no further comment.”


Karnal Sin sat in her cell, clad in her prison-issued tank top and traffic-cone colored pants, idly examing the squalor of her room. Her leg moved involuntarily against the cot.

“You’re fighting a losing battle, pet,” Karnal Sin grinned, seemingly talking to herself, “I don’t even know why you are so upset. It’s been ages since you had a release like that one.”

Silence crept across the room as she furrowed her brows, as if trying to hear something intently, before she threw her head back laughing, “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him about our first encounter with Emperor Xanatos! I mean honestly, child, YOU’RE the one who married him all ‘for love’ and sh*t.” She chuckled out the last few words.

Karnal ran her hand through her hair, pulling on the ends a bit before looking at the tips of her nails nonchalantly, making a face at their sad state, “These conversations are really getting tiresome…don’t blame me, it’s his fault, leaving us so abruptly like that – when’s the last time you guys actually f—“

Her eyes darted to the door as four individuals came into her cell, “Hold that thought, sugar…” she rose from the cot, standing tall, “Who are you?”

Keep in mind that when I was going through and adding people - a lot on the original list are inactive for over a year and/or completely disabled. Just wanted to give you a heads up

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 4.5

“Every form of addiction is bad, no matter whether the narcotic be alcohol or morphine or idealism.” – Carl Jung
“Next on the docket – The City of Paragon V. Kathryn Moore.”

Kathryn stood up as the court guard spoke her name, having not said a single word since she was arrested, her court appointed lawyer scrambling with his suitcase. The judge, barely looking up from his paperwork, lazily spoke into the court microphone, “What are the charges?”

McKinna Robertson quickly followed suit in standing. She was a young district attorney and people often times called her overzealous. Wearing a lavender blouse with a form fitting black jacket and slacks that off set her loose and warm brown hair, she lifted her head high, proudly reading:

“First degree murder on two accounts, grand larceny, aiding and abetting, fraud, man slaughter on three accounts, breaking and entering, assisted suicide, impersonating an officer, and weaponized without a license…” Her voice took the time to stroke each charge, a smug look on her face, peering over to the defendant at the end of the list.

Kathryn had no expression on her face.

The judge looked up over at the district attorney, “Are all those charges really necessary, Robertson? Why don’t you throw on resisting arrest while you’re at it? She’s already charged with a capital crime.”

Kathryn’s attorney spoke up nervously, “Uh, your honor—“

McKinna furrowed her brows together finishing for him, “She didn’t resist arrest, your honor.”

The judge scoffed and then turned his gaze at Kathryn, “How does the defendant plea?”

Kathryn finally spoke, her voice a soft whisper in the room in comparison to the ruckus of bodies moving in and out for their own arraignments, “Not guilty, sir.”

The judge peered over his glasses at her, “Young lady, I know who you are – and I know the resources you have – no offense to Mister Buchanan here, but wouldn’t you want a more experienced trial and defense lawyer for this? Four of these charges are capital offenses. Your life is on the line.”

Kathryn’s stared blankly ahead, speaking completely monotone, “Thank you, your honor – but I am fine with my representation.” The man next to her audibly gulped.

The judge shook his head at her before addressing McKinna, who took her cue adeptly, “The city asks that the defendant be held without bail and that she relinquish the access to assets as she is, quite literally, a flight risk.”

The judge nodded, “Defendant will be placed in county until the time that she is moved to a cell appropriated to accommodate her special needs. Bailiff, please take the defendant. Next!”

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 4

“The healthy man does not torture others - generally it is the tortured who turn into torturers.” – Carl Jung
The stink of ammonium carbonate successfully woke Kathryn to consciousness, her eyes fluttering open to see – nothing. The room she was now apparently in was small, she could feel the proximity of the walls near her, but it was completely pitch black. Blinking her long lashes a few times, her pupils began to dilate.

She groaned, the nerves in her body becoming painfully aware of the pounding in the back of her head, her arms nearly disjointed as they were strapped to the back of the chair she was sitting in.

She groaned.

“What…” she started, swallowing her spit to moisten her dry throat.

“Don’t speak.”

Her memories crept back to her – her fight with Xanatos, her hasty escape from the apartment, the chase after President SK’s business card…

“Sir, she’s awake.”

Her eyes adjusted enough to make out three men – at least she thought they were men – standing around her.

She heard a door open and the distinct sound of heels approaching her.

Something smelled familiar.

She tried to calm her nerves, but it wasn’t working very well, “Don’t bother trying to get out, Kathryn, this room has a dampening field around it specifically attuned to your technology. Your powers won’t work here.”

She knew that voice and it shocked her into clarity.

A gentle blue glow began to form in front of her – she instinctually braced herself.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Kathryn, not yet…I just thought you’d like to know who’s talking to you.” The blue glow turned into a soft haze that filled the empty room – revealing three commando-styled men and a woman who had been presumed dead by both her and her husband.

Star of America.

Kathryn spoke, “You’re…” she licked her lips, her pink tongue darting out of her mouth quickly as she wanted to finish her sentence, “suppose to be dead.”

Star of America had no expression on her face. Her bleach blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun that angled her face harshly. Kathryn was used to seeing her in her red, white, and blue, over the top patriotic, get up, only exceeded in cheesiness by her overly bubbling enthusiasm and positivity. To see her now, clad in basic operative’s clothing was beyond seeing a ghost from the past – it was unnerving and confusing.

When Kathryn’s implant began to malfunction, she had been forced to house four distinct personalities within her – one of which belonged to another corporeal being – Star of America. It was assumed that she had died after some time had passed and Kathryn remained in her coma – Star’s body would have remained unconscious and starved to death. Officially, she was Missing In Action, the truth of her whereabouts a dark secret that she and her husband shared.

“My status is none of your business.”

Kathryn searched her counterpart’s face, looking for anything that might clue her in as to what she was doing there.

Star of America nodded to one of the men, who quickly responded and walked to one of the darkened corners of the room.

A thick silence enveloped the room – whatever the man was doing, he was doing it quietly – and Kathryn’s nerves were fraying more with each passing moment, feeling the eyes of her Prime Earth’s counterpart sizing her up.

Kathryn almost felt embarrassed – the last she had ‘spoken’ with Star of America she was, as President SK had put it, at her peak. She was the Consort to one of the most powerful men in the multi-verse, Mistress of an entire planet, commanding officer of the Vixen branch, a feared figure within Paragon City and on everyone’s list. Now what was she? She couldn’t even look at Star in the eyes.

She was thankful when Star broke the silence, “I need you to do me a favor.” Her words were even toned and completely unable to read, although her mouth remained open, not quite complete with her thought.

The man returned with a video camera affixed to a tripod. He gingerly placed the conventional piece of technology firmly in front of the captive, a few feet back.

The breath Star had been holding relaxed, “I need you to cry, Kathryn.” Thus far it was the one thing Star had said that had any tone to it at all.

“What?” Kathryn looked at Star incredulously, not sure if she heard her right, still trying to decipher that statement.

Casually, Star of America extended a gloved hand in her captive’s direction, her body turned slightly away from Kathryn as she inspected the man’s set up of the device. With a gentle flick of a finger a hyper-focused beam of blinding blue energy shrieked across the room, violently hitting its mark on Kathryn’s knee. The shot sent her and the chair flying backwards as flesh crushed against shattering bone and her skin baked under the intense burst. All she could do was scream.

“That’s better…” there was a sick pleasure in Star’s voice as she glided over to Kathryn. Leaning over the overturned chair, Kathryn on her back, Star looked into the watering eyes of her former rival.

She smiled, almost sweetly, before closing her eyes as she took a long breath in through her nose.

“I have a gift for you, Kathryn,” she whispered into her ear, “Something that your hero-husband forgot about when saving YOUR life. But before I give it to you, you’re going to do this for me. You’re going to bring him to me.”

Her eyes were blurred with tears and she couldn’t see anything beyond badly lit masses of light. It was in that moment she realized who she was dealing with, what ‘gift’ was to be given, and she had never been more terrified in her life.


Xanatos stared at the television screen, his body visibly tense as he stood still, arms crossed. No one had wanted to say anything to him when the news had come. The Paragon Morning News came back on air:

If you’re just joining us, you will be pleased to know that formerly renowned villain Karnal Sin, and live-in girlfriend to famed hero Xanatos, has finally been arrested by Paragon City Police. Earlier today she was seen by several eye witnesses and PCCTV brutally murdering her double, Star of America.

The news avoided showing his wife wearing the Xanatess outfit – and instead put images of her in her former Dominion red up on the screen as they continued, often cutting to video of her being dragged away in cuffs, a defiant look on her face:

With mounting evidence, District Attorney McKinna Robertson had this to say on the indictment…

“Paragon can sleep tonight, knowing that its elected officials are taking care of this problem. No amount of bullhorning from her roommate is going to stop us this time and—“

A shard of ice lodged itself into the screen, sparks and electronic debris cascading off the wall mounted television to the floor.

“Wife – not girlfriend, not roommate.”

Everyone around him sat quietly, unsure of what he was going to do next. A pregnant pause found a comfortable seat in the room.

A student of the Academy slithered by the doorway, speaking to a friend unknowingly heard by everyone in the room with Xanatos, “I don’t know what he was thinking – people don’t change – once a criminal, always a criminal.”

You have been followed :X now post a picture and get with it

*huuuugs* Ya know, there are a few of us old-timers still around, obviously. But no one posts on the boards anymore. Can we change that? Please?

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 3

“The meeting of two personalities is like the contact of two chemical substances: if there is any reaction, both are transformed.” – Carl Jung


Kathryn sat in the apartment she shared with her husband, finding it more and more difficult to refer to it as her or their apartment with all that had transpired within the passing weeks. Her hand rested off to the side, dangling over the edge of the armrest, her index and middle finger rubbing against each other slowly as she thought. She was clad in tight boy shorts and a simple tank top as she had just finished her work out, her skin glistening a little with perspiration. She had been trying to burn off some energy, but she knew what the problem was – she hadn’t ventured into the Isles in days and she was restless.

She couldn’t understand herself and it was terrifying her. These urges to simply do things on impulse were getting stronger and stronger and it had taken all of her willpower to keep herself in any semblance of ease. She started shaking her leg as she grew impatient with absolutely nothing.

“I’m home, Kathryn!” She jerked a little, all of her movements stopped, as if she was caught doing something wrong.

Xanatos walked through the halls comfortably, removing his mask as was his habit upon entering his home.

She offered him a smile, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“How was your day, darling?” she spoke as she rose from her seat, a strange sense of habit taking over her actions – they had repeated this scene so many times over the last six years.

“You know how it goes – although the new recruits at the Academy seem like a good crop this semester,” he leaned down and kissed her gently, still not really looking at her.

If only he’d look at her.

Kathryn bit her lower lip, the silence heavy in the air, as Xanatos continued walking through the house making his way to the bedroom.

“Xan…how would you feel about moving?”

“Where, to the city?”

She shook her head, leaning against the wall of the room as he stood in the closet, peeling off his uniform, “No like…out of Paragon,” she braced for his response.

He spoke without affect, “We can’t move out of Paragon.”

“Why not?”

“Let’s make this easier, why don’t you tell me where you want to move to and why.”

She paused again, almost shamefully looking down as she muttered her words, “Well, we could move to the Isles – make a base of operations there and pseudo un-retire…”

He walked passed her as she spoke, going into the bathroom and splashing water on his face, although listening to her words and responding, “Seems dangerous – and the Isles are filled with vill-“ he corrected himself, aware that Kathryn hated that word, “with people who would want to see me dead.”

She was exasperated and became snappy, “If I could do it for the last six years, you could at least give it a try.”

He smiled at her, although it didn’t disarm her, but fueled her anger, “Kathryn, the heroes here don’t want you dead.”

Her eyes widened as the frustration built in her in a steady flow, “They may not want me dead but they don’t want me here. For **** sake, Xan, even the Challengers barely tolerate my being here. Do you know what it’s like having to constantly watch your back?” As she spoke she marched towards the closet, her husband nonchalantly resting himself against the bathroom door frame, “To have to wear this STUPID mask every time I go outside?” She snatched up her Xanatess garb, “I’m surprised I haven’t developed a rash from wearing this thing so often!”

He narrowed his eye, displeased with her attitude towards her ‘new identity’, “I told you – you have to wait for the warrants for your arrest to expire and then there will be no more sneaking around.”

She scoffed, her voice lowering its pitch, “Sneaking around…”

He didn’t respond.

“Sneaking…around…” As she spoke the words she immediately thought of Luficia and her encounter in the Pocket D – and the confession.

Her jaw clenched, “Is that what you think this is? Just a case of ‘cabin fever’ gone awry?”

Xanatos remained silent, looking at his wife worriedly now – he had noticed she had been acting erratically lately, nothing extreme, but out of her norm and wondered if the procedural side effects from the removal of her implant had anything to do with it – he voiced his concerns.

“You know it may be time for a check up.”

“This has NOTHING to do with that” she quickly fired back, “and don’t you dare marginalize this.”

He walked up to her, lifting his hand and cradling her cheek, “Do you want to go do something? What if I took you out to dinner?” He was obviously deflecting and just trying to get her to shut up.

She slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch me.”

She had never refused his advances – ever. “If we go out to dinner am I going to have to wear this?” She still held Xanatess’s uniform in her clutches.

He sighed, not knowing how to comfort his wife and not even entirely sure if this was something worth his attention or just a mood swing.

“I’m going to go,” she started to undress out of her shorts and top to put on the blue and yellow outfit.

“Where you going?” he asked.

“To MY apartment.”

He looked at her confused for a split second before uttering, “In the Isles?”

“Yes, Xanatos, in the Isles – the one place where I can dress and behave like a normal human being?” her voice dripped with condescending attitude, “You know what that’s like, don’t you? I’d think that after how many years on this planet that you’d understand the human need for that by now.”

A large blue hand gripped her wrist tightly, “You can’t go to the Isles.”

She tried to wiggle out of his grasp, “That’s funny since I’ve been going there for weeks now.” She regretted the words as they slipped past her lips. Sh*t.

The energy from his glowing white eyes sped up and intensified, “WHAT?”

She shook her head, trying to dismiss him, “It’s not a big deal.”

“Kathryn, you know that I have to keep a close eye on you – all Paragon needs is one little excuse and they can take you away from me.”

She threw her head back laughing, not in amusement but in vindictive shock, “Take me away from you? Yeah well, that’d be a shame wouldn’t it – there goes your trophy wife – you’re little ‘reformed’ villainess,” she hissed the last word out intentionally, letting it sink into the space between them.

Xanatos didn’t like where this conversation was heading and he tried to stop its progression, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

She jerked from his grasp in his moment of weakness, bolting out the door as she slipped the headwinged mask into place over her features, the door slamming behind her from the force of the warped energy she used to break away.

He was glad Gwen wasn’t home.


Tears streamed down her cheeks, making the yellow mask stick to her face. They were not tears of sadness, rather of pure and unadulterated frustration with maybe just a hint of betrayal.

How dare he question her motives. How dare he make this seem like this is nothing. This ‘man’ who stakes the moral high ground and then runs off and kisses some dawdling little brunette child is suppose to be the pinnacle of virtue and ethics?

She shot past the doors of the building, flying higher and higher, stopping only when she finally started having difficulty breathing.

She floated there silently for a moment before completely breaking down – she buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably.

As if of its own volition, the card President SK had given her poked her uncomfortably. She nudged at it through her costume as she cried only to have it fall out of its place and start to flutter into the mist below her.

It took her a moment to realize it had fallen, peering through the haze to see the black piece of paper fading from her line of sight. She turned downwards and flew after it, the wind picking it up slightly and leading her on a curvy chase below.

Reaching out a hand she pushed herself forward, the card almost in her grasp when she was stopped. Her eyes widened as she witnessed the card disappear and panic struck – she wasn’t even sure why she held onto the card but she felt like it was something she should keep. So occupied with her despair over losing it, she hadn’t even spared a moment to figure out why she stopped and now she didn’t have the time. Before she could switch her train of thought, a blunt object hit her violently in the back of the head and she limply ‘laid’ in the air, something other than her own powers keeping her afloat.

Her eyes slowly closed as her consciousness faded into blackness, a voice sounding as if coming from a radio speaking, “Do you have the package?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bring her to me.”

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 2

“Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain.” – Carl Jung
It had been a long time since Kathryn had left Paragon City – hell, it had been a long time since Kathryn had been out of the apartment alone and unescorted – and like a recovering alcoholic sneaking in a cocktail, the rush of freedom was immediately intoxicating to her.

A stray strand of golden hair blew in front of her face as she peered out into the misty, familiar cityscape of the Isles. The constant sunshine of Paragon irked her as if the weather itself was openly mocking her.

Her hand rested in her pocket, idly playing with the sharp edges of the business card President SK had given her days before – still unsure as to why he gave it to her in the first place, his words still ringing in her ears:

“Trophy wife.”

“Kept.”

“Waste of potential.”

Unable to make sense of the feelings racing through her, she turned around and headed back to the Pocket D, the only real way she was able to travel between the Isles and Paragon City. The woman at the door, nodded to her, “Going home?”

Kathryn didn’t respond and simply walked into the open door, thankful that the bonds of the Isles still meant something to some people and she need not fear of her being reported to anyone in Paragon of her whereabouts on these days.

She had constructed scenarios in her head to tell Xanatos where she was going everyday – the supermarket, the drycleaners, to the Academy – but she hadn’t had to use a single lie since he was never home when she left and he never bothered to ask her when and if he returned.

As she traveled through the dimensional pocket and up the elevators she crossed the dance floor, the spot where she had attacked Luficia vividly replaying the scene in her head – her mind playing her husband’s benign dialogue like a bad voice-over.

“I’m home,” – Where have you been, darling?

“I was at the Academy and then had a meeting with the Challengers.” – A meeting with the Challengers? Is everything alright?

“Yes, don’t fret.”

She had originally thought her paranoia was stemming from her acute case of cabin fever – but the other night’s confession from the other team member had proven her delusions a reality. And words, spoken from her beloved many years ago, as he laid strapped down to the interrogation table at the Dominion Stronghold emerged from the crevices of her mind with a vengeance:

“You don’t trust men, do you?”


It had been nearly two weeks since Kathryn had started to sneak out of the city – each trip bolder and farther into the cold clutches of the Isles. She didn’t like the Isles – they were grungy, gloomly, ill-kempt and smelled of the sea and general human filth – but it was the one place where she didn’t have to wear a mask. She could just be.

She had been keeping a smile on her face in front of her family despite her general misery and confusion. Her love-making to her husband an empty shell of the passion he used to ignite in her if he ever touched her at all. She grew tired of making excuses for him – he’s busy, he’s stressed, he wants to spend more time with Gwen, he’s eternal and so his sense of time is skewed…

Her feet dangled off the ledge of one of the taller facades in Cap Au Diable, her mind still not where it was at six years ago, began to twist in on itself a tsunami of doubts, questions, and chaotic trains of thought waging war inside of her.

She lifted herself off the rooftop she had been resting on, warping the energy beneath her body, manipulating it to propel herself towards a tall and looming building. Rushing quickly up the face of the brick and mortar side, she stopped in front of a windowless sill on the 30th floor. The sill, if you could call it that, was barely distinguishable, but she knew it was there, and quietly felt hopeful this would work. Whispering into the air, she braced herself, “domina scelesta.” No sooner had she finished the phrase was she immediately transported inside the building.


A smile crept up Kathryn’s lips as she looked around her old apartment – it was still there – after six long years. Reaching out a hand, she ran her fingers across the walls, her heels clicking loudly on the neglected hardwood floors with each slow step as she moved out of the foyer towards her bedroom, the transporting technology Neutron One had installed in her apartment winding down and no longer shining.

“Lux.”

Her eyes adjusted to the warm yet dim lighting quickly as her eyes raked in the spacious bedroom, full kitchen, ornate bathroom equipped with rainfall showers and enough counter space to accommodate all of the Vixens of the Dominion for nights out.

Her smile faded as she caught sight of her closet – unnecessarily large and housing a wardrobe that could dress an entire legion of women.

There, hanging casually from a dropped line in the middle of the closet’s open floor plan, designed for easy access, was her old uniform.

She stood staring at it, unblinking, a strange and indefinable feeling creeping through her veins.

She had become so used to wearing civilian clothing – so used to donning the jubilant blue and yellow costume as her husband’s counterpart, she forgot how much she loved the color red. The shimmering fabric beckoned her – she knew all too well the feeling of the slick material so cool against her skin, how it hugged her lithe body and invigorated her every move.

Without thinking, she slowly started to remove her clothes – an action she had grown accustomed to with her powers weakened since the procedure to save her those years ago – she could no longer manipulate materials onto her body and around her like she used to. Reaching a hand to her belt, she deftly unhooked it, a hunger lust motivating her movements as she continued to stare, trance like, at her uniform. Her black pants slid to the floor, the flimsy material creating a pool of fabric around her feet. Both of her hands reached to the back of her top, unzipping the blouse as she glided her arms out of the sleeves.

Standing naked, her perfectly sculpted body a mere foot away from what she wanted, she felt the blood pumping through her veins, could hear her heartbeat in her ears, her face flushed. The intensity of the feeling was foreign to her without Xanatos around and she hadn’t felt that in a long time.

She couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why she was so nervous, or why she was so desperate to get the suit on her. Her full bare breasts moving with each breath was the only movement in the windowless apartment as a comfortable stillness settled in.

Breaking the calm, she reached for the outfit, her hand paused.

What are you doing? She asked herself.

Her eyes darted across the glimmering fabric, not caring to answer her own thought.

Just for old times’ sake.

She forced her hand to grab it, swinging it off the hanger it had been resting for so many years and slid her naked form into its embrace. She melted into it, unconsciously letting herself go, her powers wandering and tickling the air with balls of energy.

She ran her hands along her body, tracing the lines of the design lovingly when her movements caught her eye as they reflected in the full length mirrors. She was missing the gloves.

Looking around she spotted them resting on a footstool a few steps away and quickly eased her right hand into its corresponding one of the pair, tightening the buckles for good measure. As she started on her left, she was stopped by the cumbersome engagement and wedding band on her hand – the glove wouldn’t go on – she even tried to turn the diamond to face her palm, but the suit and its accessories were designed to fit her as she had been – not as she is now.

Looking back into the mirror, she stared at her hand in her reflection – the yellow glow of the lamps glinting off the affectations hindering her.

Not as she is now.

Speaking to the emptiness of the apartment in a whisper, she repeated the words that had plagued her for weeks, “Trophy wife.”

Psha...don't you know I'm really just Xanatos' other account?

Karnal Sin's Return: Part 1

“Even a happy life cannot be without a measure of darkness, and the word happy would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness. It is far better to take things as they come along with patience and equanimity.” - Carl Jung


If there ever was a time when she missed the simplistic forward movement of her previous existence, the straight forward pursuit of something grand, greater, and worth fighting for, it was now. The events that had transpired in her life were both agonizingly slow and a whirlwind of activity - from the dissolution of the Dominion to her marriage to Xanatos. No longer known as Karnal Sin, but simply as Kathryn, her existence had taken a turn she was neither expecting nor really wanting.

"So you're a trophy wife."

Kathryn's hand gripped the cool, wet glass of her cocktail, her eyes mimicking and reflecting the green concoction swirling around the clear alcohol. She winced at the words coming out of his mouth.

A ball formed in the pit of her stomach and she looked up from her drink into the fiercely red, and almost eternally glaring eyes of her old friend, "I...I don't want to have this conversation."

The man, President SK, was barely visibly registering as reacting at all to what was being discussed and in one fluid motion he reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a blank, albeit black, business card.

"Good," the word was simple and smooth, snaking out of his mouth temptingly, "Well...you know where to find me." And with that he was gone, disappearing out of the Tiki Club in the Pocket D, leaving Kathryn basking in the realization that...

He was right.


Kathryn shook her head, her soft golden locks floating around her - as if that simple action could clear her of any thoughts.

Half muttering self-deprecating statements she decisively marched over to the bar. Lifting a long and slender finger, she pointed to a bottle of rum, her eyes fixated on it like a wolf stalking prey, "I want to buy the bottle - how much?"

The bartender, his cleanly shaven head gleaning in the kitschy tiki’s firelight, looked up suddenly.

"Eighty, but why don't you just go to the corner store, it's probably chea-" she threw a wad of cash onto the bar, turned around, and daintily sat on the overly comfortable stool. Blankly staring ahead, the same kitschy firelight playfully dancing in her eyes, she adeptly opened the Kracken and unceremoniously took a drink.

Kathryn never drank anymore, her resistance had waned to nearly nothing and the equivalency of three shots she had just downed created a pleasant and warm fire in her stomach, replacing the ball previously housed there, a whimsy washing over her mental faculties.

A patron of the bar looked at her worried, "Are you alright?"

Kathryn looked at the blonde woman, clearly a 'hero', took another generous amount of alcohol, wincing at the taste before overcompensating on the enthusiasm with a response, "I'm perfectly fine! Dandy, even. DANDY!"


Half a bottle later, Kathryn sat alone in the bar, staring off into the distance beyond the walls of the club she was in, the buzz of activity around her a gentle backdrop to the battle being waged in her mind.

A glint caught the corner of her eye, and rather unstably rose from her stool, mindlessly speaking to no one, “If you’ll excuse me…” as she precariously walked away towards what grabbed her attention. It was less a knowledge of what it was, as a familiarity. So used to reaching out psychically was Kathryn, that any natural instinct or reaction she treated as fact, unaccustomed to functioning without the implant.

Her eyes attempted to focus on the figure in front of her.

“I…I know you.” She racked her brain through the liquor and years it had been, the removal of her implant had forced her to work at remembering names, associations, even locations.
The woman standing before backed away, a wide-eyed look on her face, completely silent.

“You’re that girl with the talking sword…Luficia…”

Luficia visibly swallowed. She was a pleasant looking woman – a small face with long brunette hair cascading around her milky neck.

“And you’re always…around…but never really around…”

Luficia looked genuinely, and justifiably, confused.

The ex-Consort composed herself, sobering up ever so slightly as she practically glided across the mere few feet between her and Luficia.

“Yes…that’s me,” Luficia meekly responded – bothered by Kathryn’s approach, bothered more still as the red clad woman slowly lifted her right hand, a dagger like finger raised in her direction.

“You’re always around…Xanatos,” the name rolled off her tongue in a half moan, reflecting her comfort in using it and familiarity with the man.

“I…we work together, you know, just doing work stuff with the Challengers.”

The Vixen’s eyes narrowed, the large pools of coral blue turning into mere slits as she processed the woman in front of her.

“And I’m over at the apartment, I mean, your’s and Xanatos’s apartment all the time – you remember, how are kids play all the time?”

Kathryn remained silent, her face expressionless.

**Of course she doesn’t remember you coming around the apartment, you avoid her at all costs**

The brunette was visibly uncomfortable at Seiken’s statement, her left hand reaching up to her right shoulder, unconsciously shielding herself.

Kathryn didn’t need to be telepathic to read her and in her buzzed state she recaptured a bit of her confidence from years before, “Luficia, why do I get the feeling that you are keeping something from me…” her words melted as she spoke them, a throw back to her persuasive days with the Dominion.

Luficia was anything but persuaded, taking a few steps back in sync with Kathryn’s few steps closer.

“I don’t know…what you are talking about…”

A hiss escaped Kathryn’s lips, “The walls have eyes and ears, my pet, and they are talking to me” – oh how she missed that feeling of awareness.

“Whatever you are thinking, there is nothing going on…” Luficia finished lamely.

Her defensiveness, fueled by Kathryn’s paranoia was all the ‘reformed’ villainess needed as she quickly reached out and grabbed the hero by the neck, lifting her off the ground with ease, her other hand idly crackling with energy, “Do you think me a fool?” she growled out through a menacing smile.

The hero reached for her neck, desperately trying to release herself from the woman’s hold, but Kathryn’s grip was too strong and she shut her eyes as the woman’s nails started to dig into the sinews of her muscles. She forced out a response, “Look…it…was nothing…we were about to die…and so…”

As her words traversed the close space between them, the energy in Kathryn’s other hand crackled furiously, the red light dancing off their skin, licks of energy touching them and warping the air around them as her hand closed tighter around Luficia’s neck.

And tighter still.

Such an interesting shade of blue…

Blue.

And with that thought, she released her, “Forget I asked,” turning on her heel and walking away, the energy in her hand reabsorbing into her body as she made her way towards the exit.

She wasn’t headed towards Paragon.

I can sing. I mean, I'm not Whitney Houston or anything, but I can sing. But the point is, how will they react? It's our country's national anthem, will they chase me off immediately or let me finish? Hehehehe

WHY can I not do these things? You know what I am planning this summer? A giant water balloon fight. I'm gonna orchestrate it amongst all of my friends here. Bring our own ammo, and go ******* NUTS throughout the city of Los Angeles! I'm talking 100+ people!

I demand stories and evidence