The police station resembled one you might see in a cartoon. A square, grey building with the word POLICE painted across the side and what looked like a single window on the front
next to an extremely heavy door. It sat there like a large toad trying to decide whether you were tasty enough to eat. Police cars surrounded the building, as if they were ants drawn to peanut
The day was hot, but a light breeze kept it from getting too hot. June was drawing to a close, and July was threatening to be a dry, unforgiving month. After spending the majority of my money on a cab ride over there, (the police station was on the other side of town; why they didn't just come to me, I didn't know) my mind was made up quickly to walk back to the lab and enjoy the weather while it lasted. Besides, I needed the exercise.
Behind the extremely heavy door was a scene that was both alike and different from the lobby of The Lab. There was a desk with someone behind it, but this someone was male, and he didn't look too excited to be there. The desk itself was big, grey and smothered in papers. More papers covered the wall and a large tack board behind the desk.
The room was small with a hallway leading off to my right. The floor below my feet was navy blue, though the man behind the counter spotted me before I could tell what it was. He had a light bulb shaped head and a permanent frown. He blinked, his brown eyes glossy and dark.
"Can I help you?" He droned, tapping a pencil on the desk.
"Uh yes, I'm Todd Anderson. I'm here for the-"
"Down the hall, first door on your left."
I blinked. "Oh. Thank you."
The walk was short, though the fact that there was virtually no sounds in that building made me wish it was even shorter. I was beginning to feel uneasy. It hadn't occurred to me until then whether Paul had been informed of this interview, and I had no idea what to say. I swallowed, my hand on the doorknob. Calm down. I told myself. Just answer the questions. You're not a criminal.
"This time." I muttered quietly and opened the door, stepping into a room with a table and two chairs across from each other.
A man in one chair looked up from a file he was reading. "Didn't expect you this early. My name is officer Owens. Please, sit down." He gestured and I followed his command. There was another man standing next to him, with broad shoulders and a blank face. "You are Mr. Anderson, owner of Heisenberg Laboratories Inc., correct?"
"Well, not exactly, you see Mr. Moore-"
"I'm well aware of the situation." Seemed like everyone was talking over me that day. "Although I sympathize with those who know him, Moore's health is obviously falling drastically. In the eyes of the law, or at least these laws, you're the guy we turn to when something like this happens. Speaking of which, what exactly did happen?"
"Um..." I choked. Suddenly, my wrists ached, as if there had been cuffs rubbing against them only moments before. Officer Owens was gone, replaced by a man with a sneer on his face and several other police men standing behind him.
"Tell me, did you shoot him before or after you stole his wallet?" The man laughed, and the laughter was echoed by his colleges. This was back when I was still in Chuck's gang, after a scheme that hadn't gone so well. The police in that particular area hadn't been the heroes everyone cheered for at memorial services, no. In fact, Chuck had bribed them to let me go. I knew Owens probably wasn't like that, and that I was only imagining this scenario, but panic still began to rise in my chest. After all, why had they called me to the station for questioning?
Shut up already. They just want to know if they can trust you.
What? I knew that voice, hadn't I had a dream about it or something?
You're the owner of Heisenberg Labs, dummy. Remember what Paul said? The government knows something's up, they just don't know what. Same with these guys. They're curious and they want to make sure you're a 'friendly'. Just follow along with me.
I didn't trust this newcomer who had invaded my thoughts as if he owned the place, but too many seconds had already passed. Owens was waiting.
A test went wrong, simple as that. They don't need to know about the aliens.
I cleared my throat. "You see, Heisenberg Laboratories undergoes hundreds of experiments each day. In this one, we were testing a recently discovered biological substance that got out of hand." I was forming the words, but I wasn't the one speaking. I went on to talk about how we had come across this substance and how it had affected the employees who were working on it, though half the words I said didn't make much sense to me. I felt like a puppet, dangling by a few thin strings and dancing like a fool before the two officers.
Owens followed me, word for word, and as I spoke I wondered how this could possibly work, seeing as he had probably already questioned someone else before me. But, he seemed convinced, and by the end of it the story created was this: an unknown object had poisoned, killed and spread disease. Surprisingly enough, as I later found out, this was a common scene, and because of the contracts and the insurance all the dead or dieing scientists had, I didn't even need to worry about lawsuits.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Anderson. I hope we can sort all this out soon enough." He smiled and shook my hand as I left, and I actually felt pretty good about myself. I had survived.
Just remember who helped you, got it?
I had, of course, already recognized this voice to be the Megaleioths. My former oath of defiance still stood, but it seemed wise to at least accept its help every now and then. Besides, I had actually felt a sense of arrogance while under its rule, a feeling that I was above the man who had sat in front of me. I suppose I should have been frightened, but instead I felt intrigued. Who knew what you could do with this kind of power?
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