Ch.60: The Opening Statement

The data scrolled on the massive screens above the bench, a waterfall of green text exposing the rot at the heart of the Obsidian Circuit.

But numbers weren't enough. People didn't vote on numbers. They voted on emotion.

I stepped up to the podium. The microphone was cold under my hand.

"Citizens of the Obsidian Circuit," I began, my voice amplified by Julian's transmitter. "You have been told that I am a murderer. That I am a terrorist. That I am the enemy."

I looked at the camera drone.

"But ask yourselves... who benefits from my silence?"

Halloway slammed his gavel. "Counselor, you will address the charges, not the audience!"

"The audience *is* the jury, Your Honor," I shot back. "And they deserve to know the truth."

I turned back to the gallery. To the Rats. To the cameras.

"My brother, Liam Vance, wasn't killed by a car accident. He was murdered because he found this."

I pointed to the screen.

"Project Chimera. A plan to bankrupt this city. To crash the grid, wipe out your savings, and let Sterling & Wolfe buy the pieces for pennies on the dollar."

Sterling stood up, his face a mask of rage.

"Objection! This is conspiracy theory! Where is the proof?"

"The proof is on the screen!" I shouted. "Look at the names, Marcus! Look at the payouts!"

The gallery murmured. People were pointing, whispering. The ticker on the screen flickered.

**GUILTY: 45% | INNOCENT: 55%**

It was shifting.

"Cut her mic!" Halloway ordered.

The technician in the booth hesitated. He looked at the Rats in the gallery. He looked at Julian, who was standing with his arms crossed, a silent guardian.

"I said cut it!" Halloway screamed.

The technician complied. The speakers whined and went dead.

I tapped the mic. Nothing.

Sterling smiled. "The court will come to order."

But I didn't stop. I looked at Julian. He nodded.

He pulled a tablet from his vest. He tapped a single command.

*BZZZPT.*

A high-pitched squeal tore through the room.

Then, my voice came back. Not from the courtroom speakers.

From everywhere.

From the phones in the gallery. From the tablets of the reporters. From the emergency broadcast speakers in the hallway.

Julian had hacked the public address system. Not just in the courthouse. In the entire city.

"You can't silence the truth!" my voice boomed, echoing from a million devices at once.

Halloway covered his ears. Sterling looked around wildly, as if the sound was a physical attack.

"My brother died for this city!" I continued, my voice resonating in every living room, every subway car, every street corner. "He died to protect you from the men sitting in this room!"

I walked toward the jury box—the empty seats that represented the people.

"They call this justice," I said, sweeping my hand around the opulent room. "But justice isn't a building. Justice isn't a gavel. Justice is the truth."

I turned to Sterling. I walked right up to the prosecution table.

"Did you kill him, Marcus?" I asked, my voice amplified to a god-like volume. "Did you order the hit?"

"I object!" Sterling screamed, but his voice was tiny, lost in the ocean of my own.

"Answer the question!" I demanded.

The room was vibrating. The Rats were chanting now. *Justice! Justice!*

The ticker moved again.

**GUILTY: 10% | INNOCENT: 90%**

I had them. I had the city.

But Sterling wasn't done. He pulled a remote from his pocket.

"Enough," he snarled.

He pressed a button.

The lights in the courtroom died.

Not a surge. A blackout.

Total darkness.

Then, the emergency lights kicked in. But they weren't red. They were blue.

Police lights.

The side doors burst open. Not regular police.

SWAT. In full riot gear.

"Everybody down!" a voice bellowed. "This is an unlawful assembly!"

Tear gas canisters rolled across the floor, hissing.

The Rats panicked. The crowd surged.

"It's a trap!" Julian shouted, grabbing my arm. "He's clearing the court so he can kill us in the confusion!"

"We can't leave!" I coughed, the gas burning my eyes. "If we leave, we look guilty!"

"If we stay, we die!"

He pulled me toward the judge's bench.

"Where are we going?"

"The chambers," Julian said. "There's a private exit."

We scrambled over the railing. Halloway was cowering under his desk. Julian kicked the door to the chambers open.

We ran inside and slammed it shut. Julian dragged a heavy oak bookshelf in front of it.

"That won't hold them," I gasped, wiping my eyes.

"It doesn't have to," Julian said. "We just need a minute."

He went to the window. We were on the second floor. Below us, the street was a war zone. Police were clashing with the Rats. The city was burning.

"We started a revolution," Julian said, looking at the chaos.

"We started a riot," I corrected.

"Same thing."

He turned to me.

"The vote is still open. The system is automated. If we can keep the broadcast live for ten more minutes, the verdict locks."

"But the mic is in the courtroom," I said.

"No," Julian said, tapping his earpiece. "The mic is you. The hack is routed through your biometric signature. As long as you're talking, the city is listening."

He handed me a headset he had pulled from his tactical vest.

"Keep talking, Harper. Don't stop."

I put the headset on.

"What do I say?"

"Tell them everything," Julian said. "Tell them about the poison. Tell them about the hit squad. Tell them about us."

I looked at him. He was bruised, dirty, bleeding. And he was the only thing holding me together.

I took a breath.

"My name is Harper Vance," I said, my voice shaky but clear. "And I'm still here."

My voice boomed in every living room in the city.