And trust me, when you've spend over a decade trapped in your noncorporeal form, in a plasteen bowl not much bigger than a jam jar, it feels... exquisite. Not to mention the feeling of actually having legs again.
Escaping was surprisingly easy. I'm surprised it hadn't occured to me before. I simply frightened the container to death. I'm not saying it was easy, instilling terror into inanimate objects is not the easiest thing, but hey, I am the best at what I do. The judges of this world were a little upset at this, but I soon convinced them of my need to be free. One of these lawbreakers in particular seemed very put out. I tell you, if looks could kill... Oh, wait.
To cut a long story short, a brief visit to Tech 21 and the nearest hardware store (They had a clearance sale on padlocks, much to my delight), and I was all set to once again dispense justice. Or so I thought.
I don't know what those bloody tech-judges have been doing to our dimensional hoppers, but the settings on the one I retrieved were totally screwed up. I intended to pop back briefly to Deadworld (I have an extensive wardrobe back there. I like to dress to kill), but instead it deposited me somewhere on Earth in the 21st century. Ah well. These things are sent to try us, just as we are sent to try you. Besides, this time and place seems to be ripe with fear. They even have a scale to measure the amount of national terror. Such innovation...
To my even greater surprise, my colleague judgedeath is here also, and has already been in touch. Says he has a scheme to 'knock 'em dead'. What's new, I couldn't help but think, but it'll be nice to have some company. And at least bloody Mortis isn't around, making sheeps-eyesockets at everyone.
On the whole, it's been a good day.