Bruises form on the papery white skin of my wrists, the handcuffs pinching down on them, a nuisance no doubt. A door opens and slams shut, I don’t look up, rather I stare at whatever being is behind the thick one-way glass.

      He stands in front of me; he thinks he has the upper hand, arr-o-gance. I allow ombré curls of raven and cherry to conceal my face, I know what he’s going to ask and I have no intention of answering it. “Who. Are. You,” he enunciates every word loud and clear, like that’ll miraculously convince me to give up the answer he needs so much. Arrogant and stupid, what a wonderful combination.

       My head snaps to the right, as a punch lands across my cheek, gold rings digging into my skin and ripping it apart, blood seeps and drips down to my chapped lips and I taste metallic liquid red. He really must have a death-wish. Does he honestly believe that these handcuffs are what’s stopping me from snapping his neck in half, and watching the blood drain from his face, his body growing limp and hitting the floor with a loud thud.

       “I’m going to ask you one more time Who The Hell Are You?’’ His shoulders are hunched over the table, eyes glaring down to me, face not too far, does he really believe that he intimidates me? Aw look at that, someone’s about to throw a temper tantrum. Boo-Hoo. My lips close into a thin line, my cheeks puff out, a minute later, blood and spit coat his face. A Cheshire grin spreads onto my face; he on the other hand looks royally pissed. He takes a few steps back, and in utter disgust wipes off his face. It takes but a second for his disgust to switch back to a face of rage. He charges forward, prepared to land a blow or several to my ribs. But I won’t let him.

       My legs lunge up and feet place firmly on the seat.  I stand up quickly on the chair, then jump, thrusting my knees towards my face and maneuver my wrists under; he attempts to tackle me but I flip over his shoulders landing on the table. He turns, but it’s a little late on his part, the chain of my handcuffs wrap around his throat, tugging and cutting off his supply of oxygen. What a beautiful shade of blue…

      The unmistakable “BANG” of a bullet echoes throughout the interrogation room, cool metal punctures my right shoulder, and a stinging forms. I loosen the cuffs, allowing the cop to get some air. Cautiously turning around, I smirk, amusement swirling in with my eyes, at the sight of a handgun pointed my way.
“Let him go,” demands the commissioner, and I do, watching as the cop dashes out of the interrogation room, with his tail between his legs.

     “Happy commissioner?” a bored smile lingering on my lips. “I would be, if you’d tell me what your name was,” he sighs. “Faye, Faye Tality,” His eyes snap to my face, disbelief clouding muddy brown eyes “You couldn’t have said that before?” “Needed to talk to you” “Me?’ “You” “Why?”  “Quite simply because you’re the last honest cop in this dammed to hell place,” I reply with smirk “Is that really why?” he asks with raised eyebrows. ”No,” I scoff.

     I lean in. “There’s a storm coming, and this city is going to drown in a sea of blood. Chaos and fear will rip this city in half and watch it burn to nothing,”

    “And I should trust you because….”
    “ You shouldn’t actually, and you don’t have to, but for what it’s worth, I’m actually not lying.”
     “You can’t exactly blame me for being a little skeptical.”
     “Think it over, why would I waste my precious time getting caught, dealing with that imbecile you call a second in command, get shot in the shoulder just to give you a false message? Now I don’t know about you commish, but that doesn’t exactly sound ‘believable’ now does it?”

      He thought it over, he knew I was right. “Suppose, you were telling me the truth, what could be so powerful, this city would crumble to nothing?’’

     I couldn’t help the grin that spread from ear to ear; even the Cheshire Cat would be put to shame. “A combination of things my dear commissioner; a powerful new drug, two mobs at each other’s throats, and a better class of criminal.”

       “And where exactly do you fit in all of this?’’ he pointed an accusing finger.
        “Right around the drug part.” He gestures for me to continue. “You see I’m the only one so far that can take it, that’s survived it.”
       “How many have actually tried it?”
       “Oh I don’t know, maybe close to a hundred.” His eyes bulge at this new fact.
        “That’s im….  Impossible,” his words stumble. “Surely we would’ve noticed!”
        “Well I never knew that NYCPD checked up on the homeless,” realization dawns on his face. “Didn’t you ever wonder, why everything seemed so, quiet? It’s always calm before the storm.

       “What are you?” he whispers
       “What am I? I am the one thing that can hold this city together, or snap it in half. Am I human? I was, but now? I’m something better, something stronger, something more deadly.

                                                                Something Fatal.