“Name?”

  “Kevin Curber”

  “Reason for being at the party?”

  “My friend Oswin was invited.”

  “Please describe the events leading to the attack.”

  “Can I have some water first?”

  Kevin raised his left hand to scratch his face. His body cracked like a well burnt piece of wood with every movement. Underneath his charred exterior was a fresh layer of skin, a little extra pink since it was recently regenerated.

  Sergeant Killjoy got up from the chair across from Kevin and exited the interrogation room. He returned with two bottles of water and handed one to Kevin, who gulped down the entire container in one motion.

  The room was incredibly bland. Four blank brick walls faced two chairs and a table. It even lacked a viewing area with a one way window Kevin assumed was standard in any modern interrogation room.

  “Could I have the other one?”

  “No.”

  “Could you unlock the hand cuffs?”

  “Answer my questions first, then I’ll try to be accommodating."

  Kevin sat in silence, which Killjoy took as acceptance.

  “Describe the events leading up to the attack.”

  Kevin launched into a lengthy description of the buffet bar at the party, failing to describe anything else.

  “That’s enough.” Killjoy cut him off. “Please describe the attack.”

  Kevin gave a description of events very similar to Axel.

  ‘Ok, easy questions are over’ thought Killjoy.

  “Kevin, what is your relationship to Axel?”

  “He said I’m not allowed to talk about him.”

  “Well, I want you to understand he can’t reach you here. So–”

  Kevin interrupted with a bellowing laugh. “That’s a good one.” he chuckled.

  “I’m serious.” stated Killjoy.

  “So am I.” responded Kevin.

  The two men stared at each other in frustration. Killjoy decided to fall back on his training. He had to keep Kevin feeling weaker than him, It was very important for interrogations like these. If Kevin thought he was in a position of power he would not cooperate. Thus, Killjoy would show Kevin the police ruled here.

  “Kevin, those handcuffs you are wearing are handcrafted to suppress a user’s RAD. As such, your body is without any RAD reinforcement. Go on, try to break the cuffs.”

  “If I can break out of here can I just leave?

  “Sure,” said Killjoy confidently.

  “Can I have that in writing?”

  “Kevin, our entire conversation here is recorded.”

  “Awesome.”

  Kevin stood up, snapping the chain connecting his handcuffs with ease. He used each free hand to remove the cuff that remained from his wrists. Taking from the horrified Killjoy, Kevin drank the other water. He tried the door to leave the interrogation room, but it did not open.. The door wasn’t actually locked. Kevin was trying to open it the wrong way. He forced the door to open, breaking off the wall that fixed the door in place.

  “Are you allowed to do that sir?” Private Luis’s voice echoed around the hall.

  “Yea.” Kevin was not even lying. “Do you know where the exit is?” he asked.

  “No.” said Luis shamefully. “Sometimes I get lost and just sleep in a cell.”

  “I’m just gonna pick a direction then.” Kevin kicked down the brick wall in his way, sending a cloud of suffocating dust in all directions and setting off the police station’s alarms. He stepped through the wall, briefly checking to see if he could find a water fountain or if he hit a water pipe, before repeating the process again.

  With emotional detachment as his chosen coping mechanism, Killjoy watched Kevin walk out into the daylight.

  – break –

  “Name?”

  “Why?”

  “Name.” Killjoy insisted.

  “Princess pinkytoad the third.”

  “That’s not your name, Brenna Barburious.”

  “If you already know my name, why are you asking for it?”

  “Its just protocol.” Killjoy sighed, he already had the feeling this was not going to go well.

  “Please give me a summary of the events last night.”

  “No.” Brenna huffed.

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t feel like it. I don’t have to tell you anything, so I’m not gonna.”

  Killjoy thumped his pencil against his mouth as he thought about how to approach this. They were in interrogation room two, also known as the janitor's closet. It was the only remaining private location after Kevin decided to remodel the previous interrogation room. Brenna still had RAD-inhibiting cuffs on, so she was not dangerous no matter where the interrogation occurred.

  Still, Killjoy wished that he was not sitting on a cardboard box at the moment. The investigation lacked a certain authority. It no doubt was causing Brenna to act out, where normally she would be intimidated by the police.

  The janitor opened the door and was surprised by Brenna and Killjoy. “Oh sorry,” he said. “But while I'm here anyway, could you please pass me the cleaning agent?”

  “No.” Killjoy denied the request. Normally he would happily fulfill it, but he can’t be ordered around by a janitor in front of a suspect. His Authority! It would take a massive and unrecoverable hit.

  “I’m pretty sure you can. It's right there. Just grab it and hand it to me.” The janitor stepped into the room. He was a gaunt man with hollow eyes and a twitchy, nervous energy about him. He had the number “243” tattooed on the side of his neck owing to his days as an inmate. The name was Spencer, and he was an employee of the city’s rehabilitation program.

  “Listen man, I have not been doing a good job recently. My manager really wants me to show more initiative. So I’m gonna have to ask again.” said Spencer.

  “Don’t bother, I will decline.” said Killjoy trying his hardest to radiate an air of control. He glanced at Brenna to see if it had any effect on her, but she just looked bored.

  “Oh man.” Spencer buried his head in his hands. “I guess I’ll have to kill you then.” He produced a glass shiv from his back pocket and approached Killjoy with determination.

  “Oh–Hey!” Killjoy jumped back and took cover behind a crate. He sorely missed his gun. “Around here we ask nicely for the things we need. This won’t get you what you want.”

  “But I already tried that.” Spencer swung at Killjoy’s head while he dove behind another crate. “It didn’t work. I just wanna do a good job. Make Mr bossman proud.”

  Killjoy grabbed the bottle of cleaning agent and threw it at Spencer’s head. “Take it. Just get out of here!” Yelled Killjoy.

  The moment the cleaning agent was in Spencer’s hands, this threatening demeanor vanished. “Thanks Killjoy.” He said as he left the room.

  “Christ.” Killjoy wiped the sweat from his forehead as he sat back down. Brenna was still bored.

  “Can I go home now?” she said.

  “Yea sure. I’m ending this here.” His authority was shattered, any further attempts would be pointless.

  – break –

  “You can't keep us locked up here.”

  “Plea–”

  “This goes against our basic civil rights. You will be speaking to my lawyers.”

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Please be quiet.”

  “I WILL NOT just be quiet. This injustice is evidence of the deep corruption that exists within our crime and justice system.”

  “I just need you to answer some basic questions. You are not suspected of anything.”

  “I don’t have to answer anything.” Annie sat back in her seat defiantly.

  After the fiasco with Brenna, Killjoy decided to move the interrogation back to the interrogation room. It was still in rough shape. The door was crudely screwed back into place, and clearly would not hold up to any kind of destructive force. In the hallways outside, Towels were hung over the holes in the walls that Kevin made on his way out. It was not much, but at least the wind was kept out.

  Killjoy struggled to get an accurate read on Annie. According to Axel’s report, she was personally responsible for most of the combat against the mercenary group, yet she did not give off that kind of threatening energy. She was falling apart in front of Killjoy. Literally. Cracks in her skin formed and peeled off, briefly revealing something metallic underneath, but Killjoy couldn't be sure what it was. The worst of it was near her wrists where the cuffs touched her skin. That area was in a constant state of disintegrating then reforming.

  Killjoy concluded Annie was struggling to hold herself together. Although he was not sure why, he knew he had to press his advantage while he still had it. Life followed the laws of power, and since he knew the laws, he would always win in the end.

  He leaned over the small table and spoke in a low, intimidating voice. “I don’t think you fully realize the situation you are in. Unlike some of your friends, you don’t have any connections in high places, so I don't have to play nice or hold back. Do you understand?”

  “Is that a threat?” said Annie, arms still crossed.

  “So what if it is?”

  “Then everything after is self defense.”

  The shadow of fear Annie summoned in the ballroom returned. KIlljoy was plunged into a world of darkness which previously could only exist in his nightmares. Through the screams of madness that plagued Killjoy’s mind, he heard the crisp CLINK of the handcuff breaking.

  He screamed in fright. “HEY STO–”

  – break –

  Main huddled in the corner of his cell, rocking back and forth like a baby while he tried to keep his fear under control. From what he could tell, he was the next to be interrogated. There were so many crimes he could confess to, beyond just what occurred last night. He could rely on his family to clean up his legal troubles, but then he would be dealing with his family.

  “AHHHHHHHHHH PLEASE STOP. I’M SORRY.” Screams echoed down the hall to Main’s holding cell. ‘I’m too young to be tortured’ thought Main ‘I’m gonna crack immediately. Then I’ll get disowned from my family and have to give up biking. With no other source of income I’ll have to flip burgers at XcDonalds.’ It always ended with flipping burgers at XcDonald's.

  CRACK. That was the third bone Main heard break. He shuddered at the sound.

  For what seemed like an eternity, Main heard stones crumble, swords swing, screams of pain and desperation, as well as mechanical whirling. In addition to all of that, the shadow of death from the ballroom leaked from the interrogation room. Main could easily recognize it from last night. He hoped he would never meet the source of it.

  Then silence. Main did not move from his position cowering in the corner. He longed for someone to speak to. He wanted to apologise to Brenna, or ask why Oswin wanted to be decapitated. All the holding cells in the police station were separated by at least one wall, so Main had no idea who else was imprisoned with him, if anyone at all.

  The sound of heavy footfalls alerted Main to someone's approach. A short spanish man addressed Main. “Hello, I am private Luis. I will be interrogating you today.” He unlocked the cell and gestured to Main to follow along. “Normally Sergeant Killjoy would take care of this, but–” Luis scratched his chin while he thought of what to say. “--He is not feeling well right now.”

  “We have a new shortcut to the interrogation room.” explained Luis as he stepped through a gaping hole in the brick wall. “We had some towels covering up the shortcut, but ahhh, they fell down.” Several more holes lead straight to a small room which lacked a door. The two men stepped inside.

  “Here we are,” said Luis.

  A door, the one that used to be for the interrogation room, was cut into 3 large pieces next to the entrance. Two metal chairs were both bent out of shape and embedded partially into the brickwall, which itself was dotted with blood, gouges, and deep cuts from some kind of blade. A small metal table was sticking out of the ceiling right next to a person-sized hole in the roof. It let in fresh air and sunlight. While Main was staring outside, a songbird landed on the perimeter of the hole to chirp a Main a few times before flying off.

  Luis sat on the ground, motioning Main to do the same. “Let the interrogation begin.” said Luis.

  Main awaited the questions fearfully.

  “Ok First question: What is your name?”

  “Main Delgoah.”

  “Oh, like the Delgoahs?”

  Main nodded timidly.

  “Whats it like being a part of the family?”

  “its fine.”

  “Is it? I expect it would be awful. I come from a family of powerful politicians, but that life was never for me. I decided to become a cop instead. They have called me a failure daily since.” Luis scribbled nonsense on his notepad.

  ‘Finally, someone who understands’ Thought Main. He did not know it, but his inner demon was starving, craving some kind of validation. He excitedly responded. “And the expectation, it's crushing. It prevents you from succeeding at anything right? It's out of your hands.”

  “Crushing? Ehhh not really. The expectations were never too bad. It was worse when my mom kicked me out of the house. I was homeless for a while. My dad also tried to hit me with the family car that one time.” Luis shrugged. “You get through it. I don’t have much smarts, but I managed to graduate from the police academy. It was the happiest day of my life.”

  Main crumpled, defeated. He spoke lacking any of the energy of his previous statements. “You just don’t care huh?”

  “Not at all, I care a lot.” Luis corrected, drawing a smiley face in the notepad.

  “Ok,” responded Main. He slowly accepted the new information. His mind felt like someone put it through a blender, far too much to think about. “You want to know about last night right?”

  “Yep”

  Main launched into a complete and detailed explanation of the nights events. He listed every major person, as well as everything he knew about them. He provided more than sufficient evidence to tie the crimes to Noah. Noah’s goals, who he hired and where the evidence could be found was all listed out. It was the explanation Killjoy dreamed of getting.

  All of which was told to Luis, who recorded it by drawing his favorite dinosaur.

  – break –

  “Name?”

  “I can tell you have a sexual relationship with your secretary. I want you to know I can offer advice in that regard.”

  Killjoy stared back at his witness blankly, unable to fully process what was just said.

  Oswin straightened and corrected himself after reading Killjoy’s nonverbal cues. “I’m sorry. It seems that the relationship is not sexual but you want it to be. Myy head was only reattached a few hours ago. Bloodflow must still be lacking. Actually from what I can tell you are in a similar boat. Did someone throw you into a woodchipper?”

  ‘Kind of’ thought Killjoy, but he was not about to justify Oswin’s ramblings with a response.

  They sat in the same interrogation room, roof still with holes, door still missing. The only improvement since Killjoy and Oswin got discharged from the hospital was the replacement of the metal chairs and table. Killjoy should have been in treatment for far longer than Oswin given the extent of his injuries, but cops get priority treatment at medical facilities. Such is their privilege.

  Oswin fiddled with his handcuffs. The chain connecting them was attached to the table, and the table was bolted to the floor. This was a significant improvement over the old table, but still would not have been enough to prevent the rampages Killjoy experienced. “I bet Kevin broke out of these easily. Annie too. And Main and Brenna.” said Oswin.

  He flashed a confident smile at his captor. “I trained with Kevin for the past year. Physically we are nearly alike.” To Oswin’s amusement, fear washed over Killjoy’s face. “So if you excuse me, I’ll be making my exit.”

  He stood up and destructively yanked on the chain. The steel held true, the cuffs instead cutting into his wrists. “Ow!” he exclaimed. He tried again, with a bit more desperation this time. The result was the same.Then again and again and again. A curse followed every failure. The cuffs chaffed through skin steadily until KIlljoy could see bits of bone.

  “If you are trying to escape by cutting off your hands then this might work. Otherwise, I recommend that you fall in line and answer my questions.” stated Killjoy.

  Oswin collapsed onto the table. He groaned for a bit before responding. “It was as I was walking in here I saw the relationship between you and the secretary, but I also observed that someone else knows. There's a third cop, he seems to have known for a while.”

  “And who might that be?” asked Killjoy. He could not help it, he was intrigued. Somehow this criminal had managed to pick up on all the office drama just by getting a brief tour of the police station. He was not sure what power allowed this, but perhaps by understanding the limits of Oswin’s knowledge he could understand the mechanism by which Oswin attained it. At least that was what Killjoy told himself. The reality was he was horrified that someone else in the police station might figure out his relationship with the secretary. If there was any chance someone had, he wanted to know who.

  “I believe it was private Luis.”

  Killjoy laughed with such energy that he fell out of his chair and rolled about on the floor. Wheezing, he placed one arm on the seat of the chair then reclaimed his seat. “You really had me. You really did.” He shook a condescending finger. “But not anymore. You are just as dumb as he is”

  ‘I’m just as smart as he is.’ thought Oswin. ‘But I guess you can’t see that for some reason.’

  “Now for the questions. Let's start with–”

  “I won’t be answering any of those.” Stated Oswin flatly.

  KIlljoy considered his next move. According to his favorite book, the 84 rules of power, all

  power dynamics revolved around a certain push and pull. It was time Killjoy attempted some more pushing, he had done too much pulling. ‘I need to build the deception that I already have the information I need, and that I don’t actually need Oswin. He should feel honored that I am even letting–’

  Bored, Oswin suddenly shouted. “KILLJOY AND THE SECRETARY HAVE A ROMANTIC RELA–”

  Killjoy dove over the table and tackled Oswin the the ground. Since Oswin was still connected to the table, he was jerked backwards once the handcuff chain went taunt. The change in direction threw Killjoy off of Oswin, which was all Oswin needed to kick Killjoy twice in the side. Killjoy grunted as Oswin kicked him the third time, but he was ready for it. He blocked with his left arm and with his right grappled his opponent.

  Due to the weak approach, Oswin went for a choke hold using only his legs but miserably failed at it. Killjoy escaped the attempt and put Oswin in a chokehold of his own.

  Kevin walked in to see Oswin and Killjoy struggling on the ground. Oswin headbutted Killjoy in the nose while he was distracted by Kevin’s entrance.

  “Why are you here? Who let you in?’ demanded Killjoy, nursing his nose and crawling away from his captive.

  “I’m here to pick up Oswin, the holding period for witnesses has passed. I forget how things work, but Annie is outside if you want an in-depth legal explanation.”

  Killjoy’s injuries pulsed with feeling. He gulped. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Kevin broke Oswin’s cuffs without any effort. As the physically stronger rider was leaving to room, Oswin stared at the broken cuffs lost in his own thoughts.

  “You coming or what?” asked Kevin.

  “Right right,” responded Oswin.

  “Hold on, seriously, who let you in?” asked Killjoy with less confidence.

  “Oh it was private Luis.”

  “That moron.” Killjoy scolded. “Hes the worst cop here.”

  “Is he?” Oswin harshly directed the words at Killjoy, who ignored the statement as another baseless taunt.

  Outside the police station Annie was waiting. She greeted Oswin and Kevin. “Welcome back, I was worried I was going to have to have another conversation with Killjoy.”

  “Conversation,” repeated Oswin, noting the tone in Annie’s voice. “Oh, you are the woodchipper.”

  “The what?”

  “Don’t worry about it, I’m just happy this is all behind us. I’m gonna to home, take a shower, re–”

  “And then join me!” excitedly said Kevin.

  “Join you. Join you for what?” asked Oswin.

  “You said if I followed you to the party you would join me at an event of my choosing, and I have chosen training.”

  “Real shocker,” said Oswin sarcastically.

  “Plane leaves at 3:45 am tomorrow.”

  “This is from the crazy old guy who said he wanted to take you under his wing?”

  “Yep. I’m not gonna say no to a free plane flight.”

  Oswin shrugged. “Fair enough, what is the worst that could happen?”

  planned. That's right, I have been flying by the seat of my pants, more or less chapter to chapter. I figured out around what chapter 10 what a planning doc would look like and what I would need in it. I told myself I would write one once I finished the ballroom dance arc, but then this arc just kept dragging on and on due to a lack of planning. What a catch 22.