• took a deep breath and then walked into the interrogation room that was currently holding the last psychopath on Earth. And I was the lucky one getting to interview her. Yep, I said her. I took a look at the girl sitting at the table, with her long red hair that flowed down to her waist and her blue eyes. Those blue eyes held no emotion, just a calculating look.


    “Hello,” I greeted her, not really expecting an answer. I didn’t get one. I glanced at the door, then walked over and closed it. When I turned around to sit down, the girl wasn’t in her chair, or anywhere in the room.

    “W-W-W-What?” I gasped, and then felt something tap me on the shoulder. I whirled around, but yet, nothing was there. Then it happened again, but this time there was the girl, laughing in my face, her bright blue eyes still vacant. I felt sick to my stomach. Here I was, locked in this tiny room with a girl that could kill me with her bare hands, with a girl that had killed countless people, including women and children, and the President of the United States. But, here she was, and here I was, in this tiny room with the laughing girl with no emotions.

    She smirked at me. “Boo,” she said with another smirk that showed off her seemingly man-made fangs. I forced myself to tear my brown eyes away from her blue ones, those blue eyes that reminded me so much of a bottomless pit, dark and endless, the kind you could lose yourself (and your life) in, those eyes, so lifeless. She smirked again and then swept around me, insane like the Queen of Hearts, and then flipped back her extremely shiny red hair over her shoulder, and then sat down in the chair at the opposite end of the long table. I gently lowered myself down into the chair across from me.

    “You aren’t like the others.” She began. “The others were scared, and they showed their fear. You…you face me, you stare me in the eye, you wonder how, not why. The others, they just wanted to know why. I never told them…but they were quitters, they never stuck around to crack me; to crack my case. But I’ve decided, but you must understand this one thing: I will always be different…always.” She paused in the middle of her narration to breathe and think. She flipped her hair over her shoulder after she had spent a minute breathing. “I will never be normal, I will never fit in. I understand this…now, not then, not when I needed to know that I would never fit in.” Another pause, longer this time, as she closed her frightening blue eyes, then opened them a minute later.

    I cut in, my brain trying to understand that she was actually confessing to her ‘evil deeds’. “You were always different, but yet you wanted to fit in?” I was staring at her now, not condensing, but questioning. She opened her dead blue eyes, and stared straight through me, not actually seeing me, but seeing something not in the room. She raised a single hand and smoothed down her shiny hair, almost nervously.

    “Yes, I did want to fit in. I never did, I never will, I never have. I was always different, no matter how hard I tried, no matter how many times I forced myself to like their music, to like THEM. It never worked. I always got the people mixed up, the places mixed up, the GOSSIP mixed up. It killed me, it killed my soul to know that I was capable, but never really could do it right. I stopped caring at the tender, young, youthful age of 10. I was changing, all my non-normal friends knew it, they tried to stop it, but they couldn’t. I was the one to sell it to the Master, to willingly do what I could to stop the Master’s enemies. To kill them for him.” She paused again, closing her eyes….and she started to cry. She didn’t sob; she just had a tear trickle down her cheek at the mention of her ‘Master.’

    “Who was he?” I asked, sensing the revolution about to happen right before my eyes. She opened those eyes and stared blankly at the stainless steel table that was glossy and bright. Then she lifted her eyes a second later and stared straight at me, those eyes hardening and darkening, showing me the side of her with no soul.

    “Zenizith Kraleoskial…you might know him as the ‘Zodiac Junior.’ He’s the guy that killed all those people…all those idiots. They deserved what they got. He even warned them, tried to tell them that their death was so close, that it was staring them in the eyes. They never listened to him, so he killed them…some got worse than death, others got a slow and painful death…more people still got their souls sold to Lucifer himself.” She smirked slowly, letting the words process in my brain. I was afraid to say anything, because maybe then she’d stop. She didn’t.

    “Zen was my best friend and we went to something more after the 2nd century that I spent as his right hand. He promised to make me the queen of my people, the demons, who you may know as the Shadow-Fire demons. And also as his queen, the queen of Hell and the world that I hate so much. But he convinced me that we would change it.” She stopped and then stood up slowly, smirking as she stared straight at me as her eyes went from those dead blue eyes to a new color: dark blood red. It freaked me out slightly, and then I noticed something else.

    “Wings?? YOU HAVE WINGS???” I yelled; I couldn’t help myself. They were humongous, jet black and blood red, and they were full of feathers. She rustled them, almost barely hitting me in the head with them. She smirked. “Wait, you’re…you’re...”

    “Hadesia, Hades’s daughter? The Shadow-Fire demon demigoddess THING??” She answered slowly, almost too bored to answer me. Then she smirked, and leaned across the table, her eyes, now sparkly all of a sudden, drawing me into her non-existing soul. “You wanna see what I can do?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but instead closed her eyes and concentrated on something…then a cage appeared, holding mice…white mice, black mice, albino mice. I shivered, imagining things that she could do to the mice. She smirked. “Don’t worry, little Gabriela…I’m just gonna put them through a slow death.” She laughed after that, her laugh sending chills racing down my spine. She opened the cage, and held out her hand level to the bottom of the mice cage.

    “Come to me, little mice, and be free... C’mon little mice, I’ll set you free…Yessss…There’sss a good moussse...” She hissed the last s’s as a black mouse crept out onto her hand, almost docile. She snapped her free hand’s fingers and grinned as it squeaked in pain and confusion as she made it float in mid-air. I watched as an almost imperceptible glimmer played around her hand. It was slightly red, with hints of black and my spine shivered again as I realized what was about to happen. “Are you ready, little Gabi?” I looked up, almost hypnotized about what was happening, and nodded slowly.

    She smirked evilly, and then almost casually waved her hand in the direction of the mouse. I watched carefully as the glimmer got brighter and brighter, and as it raced down the length of her hand. It glowed now; glowed red and black with a burning intensity that was unmistakable. She was anxious for the mouse’s death, almost too anxious for its death. But, still, the magic didn’t flow off of her hand, or out of her palm. It stayed there, almost like a henchman waiting for orders. “Are you sure? I can end this now, let the mouse live…but somehow, I know you don’t want that to happen. You wanna see it suffer, wanna see it in pain. You have an evil side…but you suffocate it.” She genuinely smiled as she said this, but even then, it didn’t reach those captivating red eyes. Again, I nodded mutely.

    She sighed and fired roared out of her palm, lashing almost angrily out at the mouse, which squeaked and tried to escape. The mouse couldn’t, and it squeaked once more before the black and red fire overcame it. I watched as the smell of burning flesh overcame me, and I watched as the mouse’s skeleton was burned. I didn’t look up until she laughed humorously as another mouse came scuttling out of the cage, and I dubbed this one ‘Suicidey’ because of it’s almost willingness to die. This mouse, I noticed, was an albino, and Hadesia noticed it too, because she picked it up gently, and held it up to her face so that she could look it red eye to pink eye.

    “You, little mousey, I think I’ll keep.” She said softly, avoiding my questioning eyes. I tilted my head as the mouse squeaked almost compliantly at her. She closed her eyes, and another glimmer started to grow at her palm, and after it got quite big, she released it onto the mouse she had decided to keep. The mouse squeaked and ran into the light, through it, out to the other side of the light as it flew off of her hand. I yelped when the mouse turned out black, with long fur and red eyes.
    “I think I’m gonna name you Vanrir.” She whispered to the little mouse, which seemed to smirk, revealing tiny sharp fangs, brilliant white in the bright light of the prison.