As soon as the police collected their bags and weapons, the kids were taken into separate rooms where the cops ask them a couple of questions.

Officer Wesley calmly positions Johnny's file in front of him.

Opening the brown folder, her pedicured nails scratched against the typed pages.

"My colleagues and I were having trouble reading your friends' file." the policewoman says softly. "Including yours."

Johnny casts her an unamused look. "Why I am not surprised?"

"Maybe you have something to do with your records." the officer implied.

In Idlewild, there was a rumor that the headmaster has a colleague who can erase any personal information from the students' records.

At first, I didn't believe that the headmaster would do such a thing.

But now that I think about it, I am sure he didn't want the information to fall into the wrong hands - especially to local authorities like Officer Wesley.

Glancing up from the light brown folder, the cop asked: "Can you tell me what you and your friends were doing on the beach?"

Johnny cocks his head. "Aren't your detective buddies checking out the blood sample or the smashed docks?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, so why the hell am I here?"

Officer Wesley puts on a grim expression. "We just want to get some details first."

"Well," said Johnny. "I still think checking for DNA is better than forcing me to sit in this room."

The female cop snorts in disbelief. "Is that supposed to be a shitty joke?"

Rolling his eyes once more, Johnny takes a long look at the window standing behind Officer Wesley.

He wished his parents' attorney would rescue him from this irritating policewoman, but sadly the lawyer never came.

Sighing very loudly, Johnny veers his gaze back to Officer Wesley.

"Anyway, where are my friends and little sister?" he suddenly asked. "Did your pathetic drones bored them to tears?"

"Their parents called their lawyers," she says in a spiteful tone. "They will be on their way to pick up your friends and your sister."

Johnny sighs in relief.

"Oh, thank God." he thinks happily. "At least Caleb, Nessa, and Brooke are safe."

"Your lawyer is arriving as soon as possible." the cop went on. "But for now, let me ask you a couple of questions."

The nineteen-year-old boy peers at the file once more.

Endless sentences filled the white sheets of papers as they mentioned his name, age, and mixed ethnicity-but not much else.

"So," began Officer Wesley. "Why the hell do you carry a sword?"

Johnny gazes at the policewoman anxiously.

Her ash-gray hair hung down her plump shoulders; meanwhile, her dark blue police uniform is covered in crumbs, coffee stains, and old wrinkles.

Deep red nail polish scraped Officer Wesley's white fingernails; underneath her brown boots are bleach-white tiles that squeak every time she moves.

Unbothered by the fluorescent lights, the nineteen-year-old swordsman simply shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know," he responds stiffly. "Why the hell do you carry a police badge?"

Officer Wesley pressed her lips tightly.

"God, I never expected this boy would be a pain in the ass." she thinks to herself.

She had hoped that Johnny Phoenix would be more cooperative than his stubborn companions.

But he was a lot smarter than she thought.

"Touché." the female cop sniggered. "Now, could you tell me why you and your friends disobeyed the rules?"

Johnny pursed his lips and clenched his fists in anger: there is no way he is going to tell this vapid police officer what happened.

First of all, he didn't want to put this cop in danger. And second, Johnny hates answering pointless questions when he could be out there, helping his friends and his little sister.

"What?" he chortled. "Haven't you ever broke into a closed beach when you were a teenager?"

Officer Wesley did a fake smile.

"Not really," she coolly answers. "I am more of a bookworm kind of girl."

"To be honest, I don't blame you," grinned Johnny.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I hate parties." he picks the pesky lint off of his T-shirt. "They make me anxious."

The female police officer studies Johnny intently.

He chews his bottom lip, plays with his black shoelaces, and glances up at the chalk gray ceiling.

"I could say the same thing." the cop starts to say. "However, none of your personal records tell me anything about you."

Johnny sticks out his bottom lip. "Aw, how sad."

Officer Wesley ignores his sarcastic comment.

"To be honest," she began. "I think you are a very bright kid."

Johnny's mood alters as he stops picking his shirt.

"I wasn't able to graduate high school," he admits sheepishly.

"Oh?" the puzzled officer tilts her head. "And why is that?"

He gives her a solemn look.

"Because after the government shut down Idlewild," he frowned. "They kicked my family and friends out of their homes."

The female police officer broadens her eyes in shock.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he scowled. "Apparently, Bill Clinton passed a law to kick every mutant out of their property."

Officer Wesley couldn't help herself. Her jaw plunged to the floor as her eyebrows ascend towards the ceiling.

"Really?" she gasped. "Why did the president kick you out of your homes?"

"Why don't you ask him?" Johnny shot back.

"Were you an orphan?"

"No."

"What about your friends?"

Johnny shakes his head furiously. "Usually, their parents travel around the world to find work."

Officer Wesley shoots him a bizarre look.

"So, they don't take care of you at all?" she asks quickly.

Johnny blushes in response.

"They do," he answers quickly. "Sometimes our parents call us if we need anything."

Officer Wesley carefully soaks the information Johnny had given her and made a mental note to look at his parents' files.

"Wait, so your parents neglected you and your sister?" inquired the cop.

Johnny rolls his eyes. "Our parents didn't let us starve if that's what you are thinking."

"Then why aren't you and your friends living in actual homes?"

He takes a deep breath and lets out an angry sigh.

"No one wants to sell their homes to a couple of freaks," he explains bluntly.

Johnny studies his closed file sitting on the table, then asks the cop if she's finished harassing him.

Officer Wesley flashes him a malicious glare.

Simmering blood boiled inside her; deep blue veins begin to appear on her head until the officer manages to calm down.

"No," she says eventually. "I still feel like you are hiding something from me."

God, this officer sounds like one of Johnny's ex-girlfriends.

"Let me tell you something about me, officer." he began. "I do not like being in this town. It's depressing, the townsfolk are idiots, and there is nothing to eat besides seafood."

Secretly, Officer Wesley couldn't agree more with his statement.

For years, she wanted to get out of this vapid town; however, her monthly salary helps her put clothes on her back and food on the table.

"Okay, but why stay here in this so-called 'depressing' town?" asked the policewoman.

"Because apparently, no one wants to own up to the fact that there is a monster attacking Lovecraft Creek."

Officer Wesley tilts her head to the side, examining the young man's irritated face.

"So, that's why you and your friends came to this place?" she asks. "To stop a monster?"

Johnny bobs his head, rubbing his exhausted eyelids.

He begins telling her about Shirley, who informs them about the monster's whereabouts.

"He lost his left arm and father to the sea dragon," Johnny explained. "So while Brooke was patching Shirley, he wanted to call the police."

"Okay."

"But we told him not to."

Baffled, Officer Wesley was about to ask why when a reticent old man came into the room.

The concerned policewoman turns to meet his gaze.

"What is it, Martin?" the cop inquires softly.

Johnny cranes his neck to see an old man with hunched shoulders and deteriorating skin.

His brown trenchcoat, jeans, and black boots were too small for the old man; but he walks around in them like a little girl playing dress-up.

"I am so sorry, ma'am!" Martin squeaks. "But the chief said he wants to have a word with Jonathan Phoenix."

"What?!"

The indignant policewoman rose up from her metal chair.

"Why the hell didn't he tell me that?" she demanded.

A timid Martin slowly shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know, ma'am."

Waddling towards the nineteen-year-old boy, Martin grabs Johnny's wrist and yanks him very hard.

"Ow, Jesus Christ!" he shrieked. "Have you been lifting weights or something?"

The old man frowns at Johnny's disgusted remark: "No, I have been taking a couple of Zumba classes."

Johnny and Officer Wesley stares at him for a moment.

"What? It's true!" Martin proclaims, gesturing his plump figure. "Why do you think I have great hips?"

Awkward silence circulates through the room like an invisible fog.

Johnny cringed; he squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to picture is Martin sporting tight sweat pants.

Just then, the old man leans over to Johnny's left ear said something that provoked the boy to open his eyes.

"Follow my lead," he whispers softly. "Your friends are waiting for you outside. While the officer is distracted, I will take you to them."

Johnny thinks to himself, "Is he serious?"

Surely a nice guy like Martin doesn't want any trouble.

Childlike brown eyes examine the old man's face as Johnny whispers: "Are Brooke, Caleb, and Nessa okay? Did they get their stuff back?"



He tries pressuring Martin for more details, but he only says: "Be quiet, I don't want to hurt you."

Snatching his sore wrist again, she drags Johnny and whisks him out of the interrogation room.

* * * *
The air is erupting with the sound of phone calls, chatter, and the smell of pungent coffee.

Similar to the shady interrogation rooms, the walls were painted in a cold blue. Ink black rugs spread underneath the officers' footwear.

Like a sullen dog, Johnny shuffles behind an uneasy Martin. His gray eyes stared straight ahead at the officers who didn't meet the man's gaze.

Even though she wore black pumps, Martin had some trouble walking around in them.

"Keep your head down," he advised. "These men are not to be messed with."

"Who the hell are you?" Johnny whispers in a quiet voice.

The old man didn't respond.

Instead, the takes him straight down the hall, where a neglected backdoor waited for them.

Johnny gradually swivels his puzzled head to the cops, who were unaware of what is going on.

"Is this another stupid interrogation tactic?" he wonders.

Latching her clammy hand around the golden doorknob. After that, Martin slowly pivots the knob and tugs the door close to his body.

He releases Johnny's sore wrist, then shut the narrow entrance behind him.

Below the stairs was a black limousine waiting for them.

Johnny's heart begins to race; he had no idea what was going on, but his spirit coerced his legs to keep moving.

After they walk down the steps, Martin whips a 9 mm Glock out of his pocket then aims it at Johnny's head.

"Go on." he urged. "Jason Young is waiting for you."

Johnny stares at the old man straight in the eye. "Who the hell are you?"

"Listen, kid," Martin groaned.

"I don't get paid enough to ask questions: so, either you get in the car or I'll throw you in a prison cell."

In an instant, Johnny disarms Martin, slams his frail body against the bricked wall, and presses the gun underneath his chin.

"Hey!" Martin screamed. "Get your fucking hands off of me!"

Johnny ignores his pleas.

"Tell me who you are." he threatens in a low voice. "Or I will shoot you."

"Hey!" a surprised voice exclaimed. "There is no need for that!"

Johnny turns around to see Jason Young standing behind him.

He wore the same suit from yesterday, but Johnny never saw Jason wear the beat-up Converse sneakers before.

Glaring at Jason Young, Johnny rasped: "How the hell did you find us?"

When Jason didn't answer, Johnny yanks Martin from the wall and points the gun at his head.

"How the hell did you know where I am?" he demanded. "Where are my friends and my little sister?"

"They are in the limousine with me," Jason answers softly.

"Prove it."

A nervous Jason Young takes a step forward.

"I will," he promised. "but please do not hurt Martin, alright."

Johnny Phoenix stares at the timid old man for a second, shoves him towards Jason, and slipped the Glock in the back of his pants.

Jason, on the other hand, consoled a scared Martin.

The old man slumped on the concrete floor. His lanky fingers massaged the small bruise on his fat neck.

Meanwhile, Johnny strode past Jason Young and swung the door open.

Sitting comfortably in the back car seat were his friends Brooke, Caleb, and his younger Nessa.

Their treasured backpacks squished between the empty spaces; much to Johnny's surprise, the kids were eating Fruit Gushers and drinking Pepsi from soda cans.

Nessa sat near the door whereas Brooke and Caleb settled themselves in the center.

"Hi, big brother!" Nessa greets. "Want some Fruit Gushers?"

She offers the bag to her older brother, but he turns them down.

"How the hell did Jason know where you guys were?" he demands.

Caleb did an I-don't-know shrug. "No idea, but Jason gave us our weapons back, fed us, and we get to listen to some STP."

"STP?"

Nessa circles her eyes. "Stone Temple Pilots! Keep up, dude!"

Johnny fights the urge to groan.

"Well, at least you guys are safe and sound," he grunted.

Feeling sorry for Johnny, Caleb gestures the empty space beside him with his thumb.

"Come on, man." he pouts. "Pop a squat next to me."

Afterward, the boy enters the limo and sits on the other side of the car. In the meantime, Brooke hands him his katana and backpack.

"Thanks," he says.

His former lover smiled. "Yeah, no problem."

"So, where exactly is Jason taking us?" asked Caleb.

Nessa lowers her bag of fruit snacks.

"I have no clue," she replies. "But if I have to guess, I think it's about the sea dragon."

Brooke's face contorts; butterflies begin to flutter in her stomach as images of the creature invade her thoughts.

An enormous lump grew in Johnny's throat; however, his parched lips manage to utter a short question.

"What's your theory?" Johnny asks Nessa.

"Do you think Jason is behind this?"

Nessa shrugs her shoulders. "No, but he did mention something about an experiment."

"An experiment?" Johnny repeats. "Like what?"