A God's Last Death

Why What How

I'm parched. I gesture with my hand to the reflective mirror, and not long after a fuming Noah opens the door.

"Could you bring me a bottle of water and a glass?" I inquire.

"Okay."

Noah returns after a few seconds and sets down a jug of water on the table and a mug to go with it. He turns and exits the room. When the door closes, he finally speaks.

"Well, this is a nice change of scenery".

"This is an interrogation room," I reply.

"I was being sarcastic."

We lock eyes and he just stares at me, his dark hair ruffled, his face a blank wall, and he honestly looks at ease. Impressive for a guy who underwent surgery only three days ago and has his shoulder all bandaged and tied. I sit down opposite him, and he doesn't break his stare. Waiting.

"I don't know where you're from," I say, spreading my files on the table, "but where I'm from, we consider it as rude to stare."

"Can't help it." Everything about the stranger radiates sensual grace and cunning. I'll have to try harder if I want to keep my sanity intact. "For the record, this really does feel like a killing-me kind of room," he gives me a lopsided grin.

"Believe me, when it's time for us to kill you, you'll know it."

"See, now that's some bullshit."

"If you're wise, you'll keep your mouth shut and your ears open, or I'll have to take care of that loose tongue of yours."

"Can't wait."

I ignore him and grab my pen. "State your name," I manage to sound confident. That's a first.

"Just Kai." I start taking notes.

"State your age."

"My real age, or the—" I glare at him. "Thirty-one."

I go still. To hell with interrogation procedures. "What the fuck?" I  shout, immediately springing to my feet. "Are you serious?"

"Afraid so."

How is that even possible? I always thought the life-halting law as a fixed truth, no exceptions, no escape routes. I was convinced that no one was able or lucky enough to avoid it. But here he sits before me, like proof of everything I thought was impossible, to mock me. Now, the question is whether he is the only one, a mere isolated case, random and inconsequential, or he is one out of many living out there even if their clocks have stopped ticking.

I rub my face tiredly. I guess we'll have even more work to do now, and the fact that I am already with one foot in my grave won't be enough alibi. "If you're playing with us, I swear I'm..." I don't finish my sentence.

"Let me know when. I have a tight schedule."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I can practically feel the others' condescending looks through the mirror glass. I fix my jacket and sit down again. "State the date of your birth."

"Fourty-one years ago."

"Very funny." I give him my most terrifying look, not that would have any effect on him.

"I honestly don't know," he says with a huff of air that could be a bitter laugh. "Does it even matter to you that much?"

Fair enough.

"State your place of birth."

"New York, as far as I can tell."

I roll my eyes at him. At least he's giving us something. "So, Just Kai," I say and lean back in my chair, "why did you break in the station last week? You were searching for something, but the question is what. We don't keep classified files here, so why break in a small police station that has never been a target before. I doubt you came here just to paint that ugly graffiti." He goes to say something, but I continue before he can do so. "Was it a mission to prove your loyalty to your master? Because I don't think you're more than a slave dog, trying to be accepted by the pack, only to fail miserably." Based on my undeniably skilled hunch, I have deduced he doesn't play a leading role in the gang. I mean, come on. With all that sloppy job he did, he can't be more than a newbie.