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"Come on, Nate, just tell us what you had to do with it."

Police Officer Stephen Germaine says as he lights a cigarette and lifts the bright light away from my vision. He is a tall man with graying hair and brown eyes. On his face are drawn lines of age, but they are also lines of frustration; lines of tiredness. I look up at him defiantly as he sits on the edge of the table, his gray uniform creased in odd places from his lack of ironing it. In all of the years I have known him, he has never married. He has also never done anything hostile towards me. I suppose I could call him a decent friend. I have been sitting in the antique aluminum chair for two hours. Ever since the cops had taken me back to the station from the hospital. Two hands grab my collar roughly and jerk my gaze away from Germaine's face. The hands belong to a much younger and angrier patrolman that I don't recognize. His grip on me makes my broken bones ache with renewed pain and I grit my teeth against it.

"Look here, you scumbag! You're going to tell us everything you know about the murders even if we have to beat it out of you!"

I wrinkle my nose as he speaks. His breath stinks of garlic and horseradish. Glancing down at his name tag I open my mouth to reply, but Germaine cuts me off.

"Put him down, Lancaster." Germaine takes a drag of his cigarette as he glares at the other man. Lancaster looks from his fellow officer and back to me, his green eyes barely holding back the fire of rage that I can see burning in them. There is a clank as I fall backwards into the metal chair, the impact sending daggers of pain through my left arm and broken ribs. I adjust the sling around my neck to make my left arm more comfortable. Lancaster wipes some sweat from his brow and tries to straighten his red hair. He lacks the same lines on his face as Germaine and his uniform is neatly pressed. He looks too professional; almost slimy, like a lawyer.

There is a long pause while Lancaster reigns himself in. I take the time to stare at the concrete floor and the table in front of me. It is an aluminum table made in a similar fashion as the chair. I can't believe the Meridian City police station has such well preserved antique furniture. They probably think it's junk. The walls of the room are painted a sickly yellow color with a green stripe around the bottom. I look at myself in the large mirror on the left-hand wall and wonder if anyone is looking back from the other side. Germaine puts out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table and turns back to look at me.

"Wesson, all we're asking is for some info. We aren't accusing you of anything."

I roll my eyes. "It sure feels like an accusation."

Lancaster fumes silently to my left, but I ignore him. Germaine sighs.

"To be honest, Nate, it isn't helping your case that we found you in the Kurbin and Partners Law Firm Headquarters next to two dead guys-"

"Both of whom had bullets from your gun in them!" Lancaster shouts in my ear and I glare at him in return.

"Lancaster, calm the fuck down." Germaine's voice is quiet but serious.

"Why, Steve? This asshole needs to be roughed up a bit more!"

"Believe me, John. That is something you do not want to do." Germaine replies.

Lancaster's eyes shift from the older patrolman to my battered body and back.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" He asks, "He's practically crippled here!"

Germaine nods solemnly. He knows my history and what I have been trained to do.

"Yup and he could still put you in the ER, so please don't tempt him."

"It's fine." I say in an attempt to clear the bad blood from the air. "I'm not intentionally hiding anything. Why don't you ask me some specific questions instead of just demanding information, Steve?"

Germaine lights another cigarette and offers one to me. I shouldn't take it, but I do and the light that he offers shortly afterward as well. Lancaster coughs at the smoke, trying to pass it off as clearing his throat. He's a terrible actor.

"Alright, Nate. Let's start with why you were in the building in the first place."

"I was looking for someone." I reply. They don't need the details. "But I didn't find them. I suppose that's a good thing since it means they are probably safe somewhere else."

"What about those two men who we found with you?" Lancaster asks, still visibly angry, but trying to keep himself under control.

I shrug and wince at the electric feeling it creates in my arm. "They were probably there to try and stop me. You know that they belonged to the Domingo family mafia. In any case, they pulled guns, I went for mine, and after a few shots they were dead. That's when you showed up."

Lancaster scoffs and throws his arms in the air dramatically. "You're telling us that you took on and killed two genetically enhanced men and all you came away with was a broken arm and four broken ribs?"

"So now there's no way I'm guilty, is that what you're saying?" I ask. "A minute ago you were ready to string me up for two murders."

Lancaster glares at me and I smile back; victorious.

"We're just trying to find all of the facts here, Nate." Germaine says as he takes a quick drag of his cigarette.

I nod. "I understand, Steve, but do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all, Nate."

I suck in the smoke and revel for a moment in the welcome heat it pours into my lungs. The black mist slides out through my nose and curls upward around the light that pools on the table in front of me.

"Who called dispatch about the bodies?" I ask.

Germaine shrugs. That is not a good sign.

"It was a passerby. They saw the scene from the street and called from a pay terminal nearby."

"That's odd." I lift my right arm to my chin, but mostly for show.

"Why's it odd?" Lancaster seems genuinely curious now. Perhaps he has grown a few more brain cells.

"Well you two were there. You should know that there's no way anyone could have seen us from the street. The column I was leaning against was blocking any view someone could have had by looking in through the windows. In addition, they would have had to know something was happening inside anyway because the light from the street lamps and security lights outside the building creates glare. You would need to press your face against the glass to look inside."

"What about noise? There were gunshots after all." Germaine rightly points out.

"Gunshots yes, but the glass in the lobby is sound proof and the flashes wouldn't have been visible through the glare either."

"Ok, but what does that have to do with what happened there?" Lancaster asks. It makes me feel like Sherlock Holmes.

"It means," I say, resisting the urge to call him Watson, "that whoever called dispatch knew that there was going to be a firefight and wanted the winner to be caught. I'm just glad you two arrived when you did. Otherwise I would have had to crawl to a hospital."

"Well as far as I can tell, you don't have a reason to lie to us." Germaine says. "No one has come forward to identify the men you killed or press charges so you're free to go for now. If someone does come forward, though then you will have to deal with a trial."

I stand up from the metal chair and sigh, putting out the cigarette in the ash tray.

"Judging from the Domingo Mafia's track record, I don't think there will be a trial at all, Steve." I turn to Lancaster and smile. "It was nice meeting you, John."

He huffs indignantly at my sarcasm and I walk from the room with Germaine in tow. He breaks off as we pass his office. I think about asking for an escort home, but I wave goodbye instead. I can take care of myself. Out on the street in front of the police station there is a crowd of people waving signs and shouting. It is a pretty normal occurrence in the city lately. The signs read: "Justice for the fallen!" and "Seven thousand dead already! How many more will die in the name of peace?" I ignore them as I push my way through the group. Some of Meridian's citizens were always coming up with new causes to champion. This is a relatively small group of those citizens. The authorities usually leave them alone unless the group is abnormally large or violent. A bitter, cold wind suddenly kicks up around the crowd and they huddle together for a moment for warmth. Signs proudly held aloft seconds earlier clatter to the ground on the fringe of the group as they clutch themselves, shivering.

I pull my fedora down over my eyes and hold my trench coat closed over my broken arm as I watch them. The city is cold and unforgiving. She could crush this crowd of huddled protesters without a second thought, and yet, the wind dies down. The buildings still stand cold and stoic without emotion, but the crowd renews their cries and chants. Signs return to life from the cold ground, held aloft once again with renewed, increased vigor. I let the scene play out without me. There are enough actors already. The metal of the walkway softly clanks as I make my way down the street. Cars rush passed me on silent engines as another cold wind erupts from the quiet night. The silence makes it seem like the cars aren't even there. Winter comes on fast in the ocean of metal.

Investigators get a bad rap in Meridian City. Hell, who am I kidding? They get a bad rap everywhere in the world these days. Anyone who "invades privacy" is a malefactor in the public eye, but luckily investigating isn't illegal; at least not yet. I shouldn't complain I suppose. It is a great source of credits, but I could do without the glares and the undeserved hate. The wind laments with me as if in response to my thoughts. I think about Michelle in her hospital bed and wonder if she is thinking about me; if she knows I was the one who brought her there. Would she still hate me if she did know? What the fuck is wrong with me? There is no hope for the two of us anymore. I should have just cut that thread for good long ago. Then maybe she wouldn't be lying there, half dead. Those fuckers will pay for hurting her.

A snowflake lands on my nose as a familiar, scratchy voice suddenly speaks behind me.

"Hello, Wesson." He says in a thick German accent; pushing something blunt into my spine.

"I was wondering when you would track me down, Karl." I lift my unbroken arm in the air. He is the one I have been waiting for.

"We are going to go for a little walk, Nathaniel. And you are going to tell me everything." I sigh as he urges me forward and reluctantly walk where Karl directs me.

"Where should I start?" I ask. I had been hoping to get information from him, not the other way around.

"The beginning, idiot, and don't try anything funny. My trigger finger moves very fast."

A lot of people had been ordering me to not try anything lately. It was getting annoying.

"The beginning..." It is difficult to remember that far back, but it slowly comes to me. "Right. It was an unusually warm day for October. I was sitting at my desk with my feet up when she came in my office door..."