"Let's hypothetically live in a world where you're right." Rico says sarcastically, but with a raw edge to his voice. "Maybe the law is worth nothing. Maybe it's nothing but a sick joke, enforced on a slack-jawed populace, and there are no differences between a criminal cracking heads and a trigger-happy Judge. Maybe it's a festering mess that needs to be cut out like a cancer. Maybe the only justice you can get is what you can take for yourself."

He tilts his head to the side, relishing in the sick feeling in his stomach and the rush of excitement that comes with daring to say that out loud.

"But what would that mean, really? The Justice Department is unkillable. What can one person do, other than exactly what they ask of him? Would you prefer that Mega-City One looks like Omega? That hack surgeon of yours would have gotten life, or an execution on the spot if the sentencing Judge didn't feel the bother. People like him don't just get to walk away. Wouldn't that feel good? Isn't that what you wanted? All those mercs you killed - I didn't see any jury before you sentenced them to death. I just want you to stop fighting it!"

He can't understand that kind of mindset. Stop fighting me, he means. Tell me that I'm right to do what I do. But they're not getting anywhere like this. Hell, he's got one of their rifles - he's so close to just trying to see if he can't just arrange something. But that's something that'll have to wait.

From both ends of the corridor, a squad's worth of footsteps approach. They have one minute before it's within earshot.