The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Your Honor!” District Attorney Harrison protested, scowling angrily. “I really must protest the impropriety of this situation! Considering the gravity of the incident that just occurred in the court room, I must resubmit my motion that the defendant be held in solitary confinement for the remainder of this trial and that his legal counsel represent him in his stead!”

“Your Honor,” Daryl replied hotly, glaring at the prosecutor, “Is it just me, or is DA Harrison is suggesting that the defendant not even be present at his own trial? Notwithstanding the fact that it goes against his constitutional rights, the prosecution’s fears are completely unwarranted.”

“Unwarranted?” Harrison shot back. “Have you SEEN the inside of court room 1-A? The entire room is in shambles! That... that ANIMAL ripped it to pieces, destroyed the furniture, the carpeting, the walls... and the bronze statue of Justice that was embedded in the wall? He peeled it apart like tin foil!” He scoffed. “Unwarranted indeed!”

“Yesterday was an aberration,” Daryl insisted “As I have stated, time and time again, my client’s powers are directly tied to his emotional state. And you, Harrison, you were obviously provoking an emotional response from both him and the jury with your string of testimonies from the victims of his so-called rampage! For God’s sake, the boy is just eighteen years old! You painted him out to be a monster up there. Is it any wonder he had an emotional outburst?”

“Enough, gentleman,” Judge Phelps said wearily, shaking his head. “What is done, is done. The defendant has the right to be present during his own trial. And seeing as how no one was actually harmed in the incident, that it was in fact an emotional breakdown and NOT an escape attempt as Mister Harrison previously claimed, I am willing to consider the matter closed.”

“Your Honor,” the DA continued, his color rising, “you cannot allow this case to be derailed by the defense’s use of smoke and mirrors, trying to confuse the issue of his client’s guilt by introducing some ‘newly discovered’ evidence that will miraculously clear his name! This entire thing reeks of impropriety, and if necessary, I will be forced to lodge a formal complaint—”

“Enough, Mister Harrison,” Judge Phelps barked, leaning forward in his chair, pinning the prosecutor with a baleful glare. “I don’t like your tone of voice. Any more threats, veiled or otherwise, and you’ll be bunking down in the cell across from the defendant!” Sighing softly, he nodded to the defense attorney. “You were saying, Counselor?”

“Thank you, Your Honor. It has recently come to my attention that my client has been the victim of a character assassination attempt. To put it simply, someone set him up.”

“Bullshit,” Harrison cut in angrily, jumping back to his feet, despite the warning glare from the judge. “Your honor, please! There has never for one single moment been a question as to the accused’s guilt or innocence! The accused himself has admitted numerous times ON RECORD to his part in all of the incidents! The defense conceded to the motion! The only real issue here is the question of intent, whether or not James Ian Mackenzie Frasier’s actions on July 23rd were truly accidental, or simply the result of giving in to the anger and rage he felt towards his opponent!“

“Mister Harrison,” Judge Phelps said sternly. “I’ve warned you once already. I can appreciate your position, but I intend to hear the defense’s explanation and review this new evidence before I make my ruling.” He sat back into his recliner. “As you yourself said in your colorful opening remarks, this is about justice, not revenge. If the evidence is relevant, and substantial, I’ll allow it. Now then... where is this evidence you’ve uncovered, Counselor?”

“It’s actually, I, who has it, Your Honor,” Eugene Frasier said quietly, stepping into the Judge’s chambers. Bowing slightly at the waist, he smiled. “It’s good to see you again, Judge Phelps. You’re looking well.”

“Ah! Eugene, you old rascal!” Phelps replied, getting to his feet. Ignoring Gene’s outstretched hand, he grabbed the Scotsman around the chest, hugging him tightly. “So this is your doing, then? I had wondered why you hadn’t attended the trial up to this point. So... what have you uncovered?”

Harrison frowned, looking back and forth between the two men for a moment before bursting in again. “Excuse me, Your Honor... but what is happening here? This is a closed review session in your chambers! This... this ‘old friend’ of yours can’t just barge in here—”

“You were right in one thing, Harrison,” Phelps replied with a scowl. “These are MY chambers. And I will decide who can or cannot enter! Mr. Frasier is more than just a dear friend. He is also a well-known philanthropist and technological pioneer, as well as being the defendant’s father... not to mention the apparent source of this newly discovered evidence.”

“Frasier? OH! I see!” Harrison replied derisively. “Then by all means, let’s let him speak! I mean, there is OBVIOUSLY no conflict of interest going on here at all!” Whirling around, he leaned over the judge’s desk. “Your Honor, I have no choice but to ask you to recluse yourself from this case, or declare a mistrial! You not only know the accused, but you are admittedly friends with his father! Obviously any so-called evidence he plans to enter is fabricated, a desperate move to get his son off Scot free!”

“Watch yerself, lad,” Eugene said in a low deep voice. “I take offence at your tone, your implications, and particularly your turn o’ phrase.”

“All right, Harrison, if you want to do it this way, then fine!” Judge Phelps snarled. “First of all, there will be NO mistrial. Secondly, I will not withdraw from this case. While I preside over the proceedings, the outcome of this case is decided solely by the jury’s decision, not mine. Finally, who I am friends with has no bearing in this case whatsoever! And for the record... while I do consider Eugene Frasier a dear friend of mine, we have no true prior relationship. A few years ago, this man saved my life. Not only did he foil an attempt on my life from a criminal I put away seeking revenge, he personally gave me an emergency blood transfusion to keep me alive until we made it to the hospital. I’ve only seen him once since that night, when he stopped by my house to check up on me and make sure I was recovering okay.”

Eugene sighed, glancing away. “Tch. To hear you tell it, one would think I flew down from on high in a fiery chariot and snatched ye from the gates of Hell itself.” He smirked. “Regardless, Mr. Harrison, it will be rather difficult to find a Judge or official... nae, nary a citizen in this entire state that doesn’t owe their life, or the life of a loved one to someone who has ties to my son. Still, that’s neither here nor there. Mister District Attorney, if you care to make a case for Judge Phelps having a personal stake in this case, then I submit the same must be said of YOU as well, sir!”

Harrison blinked. “What? Me? That’s preposterous!”

“Oh, is it now?” Eugene asked, eyebrow raised. “I believe, Mister Harrison, that you have an uncle who was once in the national legislature in Washington D.C, do ye not? A certain Senator who once tried to pass a rather controversial bill regarding the official mandatory registration of all Super powered beings with the federal government... a bill that was eventually killed once it was discovered that the Senator himself had direct ties to an illegal underground organization that kidnapped and experimented on innocent people in an attempt to create super powers in ordinary citizens.” He crossed his arms. “Does any of this sound familiar, Mister Harrison?”

Blushing bright red, the district attorney scowled, hands clenching into fists. “I don’t see how that has any relevance to the case against your son—”

“I believe it does,” Daryl cut in smoothly, walking over to stand beside his boss, “when you consider that the defendant, the boy you are trying so hard to convict, is the son of the two people responsible to killing that bill, bringing the Senator’s involvement to light, and leading to your Uncle’s shameful and disgraceful exit from politics?”

Dan Harrison stood there fuming, clenching and unclenching his hands. It was true. He’d had a particularly strong hatred for this city’s costumed vigilantes for most of his life. Growing up, he’d heard all about his Uncle’s shame, and the ones responsible. The experience had left his Uncle a shattered, broken man, destroying the one jovial and happy man that used to laugh and joke with him, take him fishing, and tell tall tales of the ‘good ol’ days’ when he was young. Dan had become a lawyer because of his Uncle, had worked his way up to the position of District Attorney, just as his Uncle once had, as a springboard into national politics. After his Uncle’s fall from grace, he’d dedicated himself to cracking down on ALL Supers in the city, good or bad. In his mind, vigilantes were only a step or two above the criminals they helped bring to justice.

And when he’d discovered the identity of the dark-haired super villain responsible for deaths of the mother and her children, as well as the trail of destruction and mayhem across five states, he’d put everything he had into building a case against him, insisting that he be the one to prosecute the case, personally.

‘Again,” Eugene said smoothly, breaking the silence, “that is neither here nor there. As was stated earlier, my son is innocent of all the charges. Aye, and I do mean ALL.” He held up a small portable hard drive. “This contains all the evidence my colleagues and I have collected over the past month. My son was specifically targeted, and set up to make him appear responsible for the deaths of those five people. Furthermore, the same individual, or individuals, followed him, shadowing his movements, poking and prodding him from the shadows, harrowing him at every turn, herding him like an errant sheep towards the cage they’d prepared just for him.” Walking into the center of the room, he paused, gesturing to the judge’s computer. “With your permission, Your Honor?“

“By all mean, Mister Frasier,” he said with a nod. “Proceed.”

Inserting the disc drive, Eugene tapped a quick sequence of keys and turned the monitor towards them. “Let’s start at the beginning then. I think by now everyone has seen the ‘amateur video’ of the incident shot by that ‘innocent bystander’ who just happened to be in the area. Let me set the stage. Young Jimmy discovered the River City Treasury building being robbed by a young woman who called herself Nytro. They fought. After a series of minor explosions, Nytro escaped from the basement in a modified armored Humvee with a large supply of gold. Young Jimmy followed suit, managed to disable to tires of the vehicle, forcing the would-be thief to escape on foot. They fought again, with Nytro tossing bombs at will, and my son, trying to get close enough to stop her.” He tapped a few more keys, and an image appeared on the screen.

“This is imagery taken from an orbiting telecommunications satellite that happened to be passing overhead during the time of the incident.” Another keystroke brought forth a second image. “This is the view from an ATM camera directly across the street, facing west. This ATM machine is also equipped with a microphone and speaker, granting us sound, though it needed to be greatly amplified.” Another keystroke brought up yet another view, this one showing on an empty alleyway. “This angle is from the traffic cam view of the nearby traffic light, which was being worked on the week prior. The camera’s angle was misaligned from the work being done, and has since been fixed, however at the time of the incident it gives a clear view of the alleyway.” And a final keystroke brought up one last viewpoint, this one a far off aerial view from the east. “And this last one was taken by a military drone on maneuvers at the nearby airbase, obtained with their permission for the purposes of this trial. Notice if you will, that all the images are time stamped with the date, the hour, minute, and second.”

Harrison sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. “Yes, yes, very impressive. But is there a point to all of this, besides showing off your Photoshop skills?”

Eugene scowled. He definitely did not like the District Attorney. “Aye, there is. Point of fact. My son did not kill the mother and those four young girls. They were dead before he even concluded his fight with Nytro.” A single keystroke started the video taken from the ATM machine.

“Watch out!” Jimmy yelled to the young woman driving the minivan. A cloud of smoke and debris rained down from the aftershock of a nearby explosion. “Are you crazy? Get the hell out of here before you get blown to bits!” Another explosion detonated close by, this time close enough to singe the front bumper of the van. Jimmy stood by for a moment as the driver reversed direction, and drove off, turning down a small alleyway, and disappearing from site...

As the video paused, Eugene clicked on the third image, the alleyway view from the traffic cam. “Again, notice the time stamp. All the images are perfectly synchronized. The van is just coming into view in this shot at the far end of the alley. The view is a bit grainy from this distance. I can clear it up in a moment, but even at this resolution, you can see what occurs next.” A soft click, and the video began to play...

The van moved smoothly through the alleyway before pulling to a stop halfway through. A man in a brownish-grey coat stepped forward in front of the van, blocking it, gesturing wildly to the side. As the driver glanced out the window in the direction pointed to, the man withdrew something long and slender from his coat, pointing it at the driver. The woman jerked slightly, then slumped forward. Moving quickly, the man moved over to the driver side window, pointing the object into the open window at the other blurred shapes inside the van. A moment later, he withdrew, and a second man emerged from a behind a green dumpster along the wall, carrying a large red canister. Tossing the canister into the van, he moved to the front, and bracing himself, began pushing the vehicle back down the alleyway, towards the point it had entered into view...

“Good God Almighty,” the Judge breathed softly, shaking his head is dismay. Daryl and the D.A. both looked visibly shaken, while Eugene, having seen the footage before, merely nodded stoically.

“Nae, Your Honor,” he said quietly, changing the image again to the ATM’s view. “I’m afraid He had verra little to do with any of this. I take whatever small comfort I can in knowing there’s a special place in hell set aside for those who hurt and prey on small children.” His expression hardened. “That said, were I to personally run into the two individuals responsible for what you just observed, I’d nae feel guilty ’bout rushing them on to their eternal judgment!“

“I don’t understand,” Daryl said with a frown. “If they were killed before the explosion, why didn’t the coroner’s examination turn up any evidence of foul play?”

“It did,” Eugene replied, withdrawing a file folder from his briefcase, handing it to the counselor. “The previous coroner’s findings were clearly cursory at best. The victims’ bodies were burned to a crisp at the sight of an fiery explosion, so the cause of death seemed obvious. After a colleague of mine did some investigating and discovered traces of an accelerant at the scene, I had the county coroner exhume the bodies and perform a more detailed examination. As you can see, this new examination revealed a much different cause of death.” He scowled. “I’m told he actually contacted your office about these new findings several times, Mr. Harrison, but was simply brushed off, being told that you already had all the information you needed.”

This time he adjusted the images to display in split screen, showing the far off view next to the close angle ATM view, and set them to play simultaneously...

Jimmy, slightly singed and smoky, rose back to his feet as his opponent, Nytro, pushed herself up from against the wall she’d been slammed again. Gasping, shaking her head, she replied in a wheezing voice, “Damn... you just... don’t know when to... give up... do ya?”

Jimmy sighed, shaking his head, rubbing lightly at his temples. “Sorry. Not in my vocabulary,” he growled, moving steadily towards her.

From the far off view, the girl’s hand began to glow softly—

“I paused it here to show, clearly, without a doubt, something that the amateur video didn’t pick up. From the left side, her hand is obscured by her body; from the right side, however, you can see she is in the process of creating another bomb. I would venture to guess that young Jimmy could see quite clearly from his perspective what she was doing as well.” He unpaused the video.

—even as she backed up, raising her other hand in supplication. “Hey! Whoa! Time out!” she pleaded, her expression not matching her actions. “Let’s talk about this, okay? Let’s make a deal! How about you just let me walk? You stopped me from escaping with the gold,” she said pointing to the wrecked Humvee, “You rescued my helpless little pawns! Hell, you even destroyed my machine to make sure I can’t enslave anyone else!” Her voice took on a obvious whining property as she backed up into the wall. “You’ve beaten me, alright? You’ve won! What more do you want from me?”

Jimmy paused, scowling, glaring at her in obvious anger. “I want you to suffer!” he growled.

The video feed cut out. “An interesting turn of phrase, don’t you think?” Eugene said calmly, adjusting the images once more. “It may not mean much to any of you, but I know my son. I know his moods, his temper, his attitude. And yes, the lad is known to blow his top now and again.” He smirked. “Aye. It’s a family trait. But trust me when I say that the lad tends to be a bit more... direct... when expressing his anger. If he’d truly wanted to vent his frustrations out of the girl, he’d have decked her, plain and simple. Or perhaps thrown her through a wall. Telling her point blank that he wanted to see her ‘suffer’, then simply stunning her into submission rings false to me.”

The view from above looking down showed the van being pushed carefully into place, stopping just a few feet away from the Humvee, while the view from alleyway showed the angle of the street’s incline put it behind and below the surface area of the armored transport. The view shifted again, slightly, showing the far off view from the right, turning slightly, the aerial drone no doubt continuing on its way. Just before the view turned completely away from the area, a small bright flash lit up a small corner of the image...

“There,” Eugene said firmly, pausing the image again. “That is the final piece of the puzzle, the definitive proof that this ‘accident’ was no accident, that it was deliberately set up to discredit my son.”

The three others frowned, peering closer at the monitor. “What... that little flash of light?” the judge asked dubiously. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“Allow me to clean up the image,” Eugene replied, opening a separate window, running an app installed in the hard drive, The image pixilated, then slowly but surely cleared, zooming slowly inward, until Eugene paused it once more. “Is it clear enough to see it now?”

Daryl nodded woodenly. “A camcorder. Someone inside that building was watching the fight, videotaping it. That flash was sunlight reflecting off the camcorder’s lens back into drone’s lens.”

“Aye, but there’s more. I can filter out the excess sunlight as well, and give ye a clearer look at the man holding the camera.” A few keystrokes, and the view darkened, polarized as the sunlight glare was removed. A small brown face appeared, partially obscured by the camera, with only the left side visible. “The so-called innocent bystander that just ‘happened’ to be in the area and caught the incident on tape wasn’t simply in the area. He was stationed there, waiting for the players to take their positions on the stage.” A single keystroke enlarged the image. “That, gentleman, is the mastermind of this entire scenario.”

Harrison sighed deeply. “Mr. Frasier, I must commend you for your detective work, and your rather impressive resources in gathering this information. I have to say, however, that despite the rather compelling evidence you’re presented, your little conspiracy theory falls short. You claim that the camera man was stationed there in that particular building, waiting for Nytro and your son to arrive, so he could film the entire thing? Okay, granted, it does seem to bring into question the true cause of death for the victims in the minivan... but how do you explain all of this happening right at the exact place and time that the camera operator was ready for? Either he had a detailed foreknowledge of what was about to happen, or the entire incident was scripted, including the part your son played in the event!“

“Close, but no cigar,” Eugene quipped. “I recognize the man holding the camcorder. I have a photographic memory, and even though I’ve only met him once, his is a face I could never forget. But, to make this crystal clear for you, Mister Harrison, allow me to run one final application for you. I have a facial recognition program that can extrapolate and reconstruct the hidden side of the cameraman’s face mathematically, and overlay it in the correct position. And before you cry foul, it is the same program that I recently developed for the FBI as an upgrade to their current facial recognition software.” Opening another window, Eugene started the program.

A small window filled with line after line of binary code, streaming ones and zeros are a rapid pace. Meanwhile, the frozen image of the man’s face shifted, a mass of lines crossing over and obscuring the image of the camcorder, only to be replaced by a mass of dots. The dots shifted position several times, before finally locking into position. A highlighted white line appeared stretching across from identical points on the visible side of the face to the empty black area obscured by the camera. Finally, once the area was fully graphically represented, the computer began filling in the area, line by line, matching the color and texture to the corresponding line or dot on the visible side. Within the space of a few minutes, the image resolved, showing the face of a young Asian man. Judge Phelps let out a gasp, causing the lawyer and the prosecutor to glance at him.

“Do you recognize this man, Your Honor?” Daryl asked, curious as to the judge’s expression. “Do you know him personally?”

“His name is Brian Chang,” the Judge replied through a voice gone suddenly dry. “And yes, I know him. I personally sentenced him to life plus twenty years. He’s a Super, a particularly devious and nasty one. He achieved national fame several years ago when he and his companions attempted to enslave the entire the entire world. He and his companions had even managed to capture and brainwash Omega Girl as part of his plot, but in the end she managed to overcome his control and bring him and his cabal down.” He shook his head. “A very powerful and dangerous psychic. He and his cronies were put on ice—literally—at the maximum security storage facility... where he should still be.”

“Aye, and from my last contact with the warden, he was still thought to be there, safely locked in cryogenic suspension,” Gene replied sourly. “In the end, I had to visit the facility personally, and convince the guards to open his chamber and confirm he was truly in there. Granted, there was a body stored in his receptacle, but it wasnae Brian Chang!” He sighed. “The point is simple. Chang set this entire thing up, manipulated the situation, used his powers to provoke and prod his pawns until he had them right where he wanted them. He even ad libbed their lines when necessary, as in Jimmy’s remark about wanting Nytro to ‘suffer’.” Satisfied, he shut down the portable hard drive and removed it from the Judge’s computer. “There you have it, gentlemen. My son was set up.”

“Again, a very compelling argument,” Harrison murmured, still scowling. “Very compelling. But, this evidence of yours can’t be used in court. There’s no way to confirm that the images you showed us were real and not simply digitized fakes done with Photoshop—”

“Ah, but there IS proof, Mister Harrison,” Eugene replied with a savage grin. “You should know by now that I never do anything half way. The time stamps in each image confirm the date and time of the images... and as for the authenticity? I took the liberty of calling in a colleague of mine, a certain expert in all things dealing with digital imagery and data extrapolation, Dr. Stephanie Brooks. If I recall correctly, you yourself have used her services in no less than thirteen cases as an ‘expert’ in her field. I happen to have a signed and notarized affidavit from her confirming that the data is genuine. " He removed the document from his briefcase, handing it to the District Attorney. “So, unless you’d care to debunk the testimony of one of your own ‘expert witnesses’...”

Harrison’s face went blood red once again. “Very well,” he replied through gritted teeth. “Once I speak with her personally to confirm the results, I suppose I have no choice but to accept this new evidence...”

Eugene handed the prosecutor his cell phone. “No time like the present, Mister Harrison. Here, use my phone. She’s on my speed dial, number seven.”