Ridiculous and longish fantasy hypothetical, possibly a poll but I won’t decide till the last second, obligatory bigoted slur of Pompeiians, blah blah blah.
Today’s story is set in the world of Box X, the black bisexual superhero with Kryptonian powers, no known weaknesses, and a kid in college. But it’s not Bob’s actions you’re being asked to decide; for purposes of this thread you are the state’s attorney of Cook County, IL, where Bob hangs his cape. Well, he doesn’t wear a cap. Where Bob hangs his Bulls jersey. Wait, do basketball players wear jerseys? Ah, screw it. Anyway, here are the facts, which are not in dispute:
Recently, while putting down a Tyrannosaurus Rex rampage at his world’s version of Jurassic Park, Bob got the phone call all parents dread, but superhero parents more than most: his adoptive daughter Lynn had been kidnapped. Oddly, the kidnappers made no attempt to conceal their location; in fact they told him exactly where they (but not his kid) could be found, saying that he had half an hour to get there before they chopped Lynn into pieces. Bob had been trying to capture rather than kill the T-Rexes, but at that news he said, “Fuck this shit,” vaporized the lot of them with his heat vision, and sped across Pacific Ocean to Chicago in about five minutes.
Bob’s destination was a high-rise office owned by one Jimmy Falcon, youngest son of the most powerful drug lord in the Windy City. Jimmy’s recently taken over the Falcon family business because his father and older brothers were convicted of felonies and jailed. Bob had nothing to do with that, incidentally. He spends his time fighting drought, famine, hurricanes, and occasionally monsters, only fighting crimes if they happen to be committed right in front of him.
Arriving at Jimmy’s office, Bob found the youngest Falcon and a dozen of his henchmen waiting for him. But what drew is attention was the plasma TV on the wall, on which was playing an apparently live video playing of his beautiful daughter: bound, gagged, bruised and crying; behind her was a man pointing a gun at her head. It took all his willpower to remain calm.
“Nice setup, ain’t it?” Jimmy said. “Don’t bother x-raying the building; your brat ain’t here. She ain’t even in the city. That image is being bounced through a dozen satellites. And it’s a two-way link. Not even you can trace it back before my man Vinnie there ventilates your kid.”
“Sweetie, nod twice if you can hear me,” Bob said to the TV. Lynn obeyed and immediately stopped crying. “Have you out in a second,” Bob said.
“No you won’t,” Jimmy said. “Not unless you do what I tell you too. You’re gonna start by busting my dad and brothers out of jail. Then you’re gonna retrieve all the coke the feds confiscated from us. Then I’ll think about letting your brat live. Try anything smart and she dies.”
“I don’t think you’ve thought this through,” Bob replied, “so I’m going to be absurdly nice and give you a chance you don’t deserve. None of your guys are gonna obey your orders if you’re dead, and dead is exactly what you’ll be unless you order that chump to let my daughter go.”
“I don’t think so,” Jimmy said. “See, I’ve studied you. You don’t like killing people. You go out of your way not to. I even know why; it’s 'cause you’re queer, and queers got no iron. That’s why I didn’t order you to kill the feds that have been fucking with my family. But super or not, I got you. You’re my bitch now. And unless you get your ass over to the Colorado Supermax, I’m gonna tell Vinnie there to make your kid HIS bitch before–”
Those were Jimmy’s last words, of course, as Bob then did to him what he’d earlier done to the T-Rexes, albeit more slowly. As predicted, Vinnie and Jimmy’s other henchmen lost all interest in obeying him at that point. They told Bob where to find Lynn. Three minutes later Bob was in the Kiev rathole where Lynn was being kept. He broke two of Vinnie’s bones for every bruise she had suffered, then sped her to the nearest hospital. While she was being treated he flew back to Chicago, tracked down the henchmen, and delivered them to the police, though only after repeating the bruise-fracture transaction on each.
You might think the story would end there, but you’d be wrong. You see, there’s some hardasses in the State’s Attorney office. Some of them advise the DA (i.e., the hypothetical “you”) that Bob needs to be prosecuted for murder. He didn’t *have *to kill the guy, after all. At no point was he himself in danger from Falcon & company, for one thing. For another, with his powers and resources, surely he could have found a way to rescue Lynn without killing or brutalizing anyone as he did. Why not play along with the jailbreak, biding his time until he could locate Lynn? some of the prosecutors say. One adds that Lynn isn’t even his real daughter–merely adopted.
Not everyone agrees. For one thing, Bob can only be prosecuted (let alone jailed) if he lets himself be treated that way, which seems unlikely. For another, the world clearly needs him, what with all the kaiju and so forth. And even ignoring (a) and (b) it’s not likely they’ll be able to convict him, particularly if there’s any mothers or fathers in the jury.
You’re the State’s Attorney. What do you decide?
