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!!0ZviLFh59My No.22306557 View ViewReplyOriginalReport
You are a fighter pilot of the 501st Joint Strike Wing and you've just been cornered by the aide to the chief of RAF Fighter Command and behind you stands Nicholas Mackintosh, XO of the Navy vessel you just tried to steal ice cream from.

This is the third ship you've visited this month, and all in all you prefer the Fitzgerald - you know, the one that was on fire and infested with aliens trying to kill you.

"Yeah," Mack says, holding his palms up to Maloney. "Yeah. So." He strokes his chin thoughtfully. "How...." he makes vague motions at you, then at Maloney and his pack of subgun-swinging goons. "Arrest? Care to explain this?"

"Constable?" Maloney says smugly, and a slightly portly man in a suit steps forward, looking a bit awkward. "Well. The American Army has declined to bring charges against this... pilot under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and, ah, certain gentleman of high rank in the Royal Air Force have expressed disinterest in pursuing military-to-military complains. However, much of what this pilot has done is fully prosecutable under English civilian law."

Mack raises his eyebrow. "And you didn't collar him on the island because...?"

Maloney opens his mouth, but the portly little constable just raises his hand in a 'bitch, please' gesture and plows on. "The island is the private property of the Witch Sisterhood - not that there's a single legal entity like that, per-se, but in centuries past it was quite literally the sovereign territory of Witches, not just private property of Crown subjects. Much like Papal possessions. There's hundreds of years of history. The legalities are... complex."

"I think I get the picture," Mack mutters.