"Son, we are going to have to go through the questions again. Let's start from the beginning, shall we? Okay. First question: Where were you at the time of the murder?"
Two sides of a ceramic table in the middle of an isolated, white room were occupied by three men; two on one side, one on the other. The cold, reflection-less ceramic tiles on the floor and walls blended and merged into the chipped table as they mirrored the suffocating smell of machinery, keeping it in place, never to leave its vicinity.
There wasn't any machinery in there, however. Besides the three men present in the middle of the room, the only other noticeable thing was the pane of reinforced glass that constituted well over half of the wall to their right. More specifically though, it wasn't just a big piece of glassware, it was a giant mirror.
A shuffle of chains followed the man's deep bass voice, rattling across the table and almost knocking over a plastic cup of coffee in the process. One of the men, opposite to the young man that had caused the minor incident, had managed to catch it in the brink of time. Nothing went wrong, fortunately, but it didn't look like the man was pleased with what had happened. Veins throbbing on the top of his forehead, he stood up abruptly and slammed his fist down onto the table, startling the person who seemed like his partner, but unfortunately, not the target at which he had directed his act of violence to, and yelled.
"Listen here, kid! We're trying to help you out here, but it seems that you are not appreciative, nor smart enough to realise that! All you need to do is answer some of our questions, and we will set you free. Simple as that! If you continue keeping silent like you've been doing over the past half an hour however, my partner and I will just throw you into the holding cell and move on with our day. There are still many avenues of information we can choose to go to, to get the gist of the situation, so don't you dare think we need you! Either way, we are definitely going to be getting our answers, but the truly important question is: will we be getting them the easy way or the hard way?" The man in his thirties, beardless and neat in his formal attire, seethed as he sunk back into his seat.
The other man, this one in his forties, a well kept goatee adorning his angular face, exchanged an appreciative glance with his partner the moment he took his seat. Then, turning around to face the young man with pitch black hair covering the better half of the upper part of his face, he softly yet firmly asked, "What will it be, Aves? The holding cell, or your comfortable couch and bed?"
Silence ensued for a brief moment, an invisible sense of tension patrolling the entirety of the interrogation room, until even that was broken by a sudden twitch of Aves' right hand, propelling his hand cuff chains forward in a rise and fall of the familiar clatter, precisely managing to tip over the cup of coffee on the opposite end of the table, and spilling the steaming hot liquid all over the beardless interrogator's lap.
"Son of bitch! This brat's messing with us! I'm going to kill him!" The beardless man practically shrieked as the sound of plastic hitting the floor briefly echoed within the room. Patting his legs like his pants were on fire, the man started stomping his way over to Aves' side of the table, his lower body still dripping wet.
"Calm down, Morgan! It's clear that the kid isn't taking this situation seriously. Threatening to kill him probably won't scare him, since he knows that you won't do it, so let's just throw him into a cell and see if he finally gets his wits about him the next time we come knocking around." The goatee man, James, pleaded as he held back Morgan, the beardless man, who looked like he wanted nothing more than to bull charge his way into Aves' frail frame.
Messy threads of black hair partially covering his vision, Aves would've looked like he was observing the circus act that was taking place in front of him in amusement, had his mostly silver eyes not looked so empty and humourless to anyone that was so unlucky as to see them — not that they could have anyway, due to the fact that his eyes being covered from view made it hard for anyone to notice anything off about them.
That wasn't the main point…
Such a well built man such as Morgan would've intimidated anyone if they happened to catch a glimpse of him trying his hardest to pounce on them and do untold things to them, but Aves continued rhythmically and fearlessly fiddling with the chains in his hands, just like he had been doing since the moment he was brought in for interrogation.
"But… he ruined my new clothes!" The red veins on Morgan's eyeballs could — quite literally — be seen getting bigger by the second as the furious man alternated his gaze between Aves and his pants.
"Just let it go, Morgan. This isn't worth getting angry over. Let's step outside for a bit, get yourself cleaned up, and think things through, okay?" James had already started leading Morgan in the direction of the metallic door, successfully managing to calm him down as he did so.
"I'll definitely get back at that little piece of shit soon…" Morgan's lame attempt at trying to leave with his dignity intact matched his lame exit.
The entertaining scene would've managed to make Aves chortle in amusement in the past, but it seemed like he had either completely missed that piece of comedy, or he just didn't care enough to move his gaze away from the empty spot in space that he had been staring into for a while now.
The strangely ominous sounds of locks clanging on metal accompanied the two detectives' departure, making sure that the… odd kid inside would be going nowhere for the time being.
Shuffling a few stacks of paper to the side, James leaned forward onto a long table that lined the wall that contained the one way looking glass, which actually turned out to be the giant mirror in the interrogation room, and softly spoke to one of the guys responsible for the numerous pieces of technology in front of him, "So, what have we got?"
The man replied without turning his gaze away from the now completely motionless statue that was Aves, "So far, nothing much. I've had a few guys from the behavioural science department come down for a bit, in the hopes that they would be able to give us anything useful on his character, but unfortunately, they weren't able to get anything worthy of writing down about him."
"What did they say exactly?" James continued his questions as he also fixed his focus back onto Aves, regardless of the fact that his hopes for anything interesting popping up had basically vanished.
"The usual stuff: lack of reactions on the boy's part could entail that his personality is on the psychotic side, but it could just be him experiencing intense shock after the death. Also, one thing to note, though I'm not sure if this is exactly related to anything or not, Aves here seemed pretty adamant on having his eyes closed whenever they were accidentally uncovered; whether it may be a physical manifestation of him literally denying the reality of what had happened, or something else entirely, I don't know." Raising his head, the technician locked his eyes with James right as he finished his sentence.
James ended up just shaking his head and sighed ruefully while doing so. "What the hell am I supposed to do with that sort of information…"
The technician really wasn't wrong when he said that nothing of use to the investigation had come up yet.
Interrupting James' self contemplation was Morgan's sombre voice. "I'm telling you, James. Even though this may sound biased, but I think that that brat is weird, and I mean very weird. You and I both know that we've seen many people his age in similar situations, but was any one of them able to leave you with the impression that they were as calm and serene as this kid right here, despite his nerve wracking circumstances? They didn't — and rightfully so, as well — since the person who died was someone who was very dear to them. They might try to act as if everything is under their control, but it becomes painfully clear that they aren't later on. Yet, with this fellow right here… I really don't know. Whatever is going on here, it's unsettling is what I'm trying to say… even for me."
It looked like the break he had taken to clean up his clothes had given Morgan some time to recompose himself a little, evidently allowing him to pick up on a few details, that surrounded the anomaly that was Aves, that the others weren't quite able to catch on to. His face was creased into a slightly worried frown as he took a seat next to his partner.
"Again, that might be just be the result of his psycho personality. And, who knows, maybe he was the one who committed the—"
"I did not kill her." Interrupted so suddenly were the two detectives in the control room, yet this time, it wasn't anyone that was part of the police force that did so.
It was Aves, the only movement that accompanied his sudden revelation was the slight shift in his posture, which was more relaxed now compared to his previous relatively hunched form.
More surprised by the fact that the boy had actually spoken up than they were by his sudden confession, the two detectives scrambled to find a microphone in order to be able to project their voices into the interrogation room.
"I did not kill my mother." Aves managed to beat them to the punch again however, his voice coming off as slightly low and gritty, definitely not something that he was known for before the previous events, that had changed his life, ended up happening.
The cool indifference with which he had uttered those crushing words was off-putting to the two detectives, who had finally succeeded in finding that microphone and speaking into it.
"Okay, okay. I understand, Aves. You weren't the person who killed your mother. But, who was it, if not you? At the crime scene, you were the only person who was present near your mother's corpse. The forensic team also found your fingerprints on multiple objects near her. I want to believe that it wasn't you, I really do. Unfortunately, we need solid evidence here that can convince us that you weren't the murderer. Otherwise… things aren't looking so good for you." James was the first to speak.
He didn't have to wait long for a reply.
"6:01. That was the exact time I had called a taxi that would later go on to drive me from Stars college to my parents' house." Aves robotically started, his body still and facing forward.
He then continued, "6:59. That was the exact time the taxi driver had dropped me off at a spot that was approximately fifty meters away from the house. Half a minute was all it took for me to cross that distance, and by the time I had entered said house, it was 7:00. Eyes of witness to that scene were a few of my parents' female neighbours, and their names are as follows: Rebecca, Judy, Alicia, Karen…"
Firing more than a few female names in rapid succession, Aves apathetically went ahead and dove into detail on what they were doing at that time, such as the type of information that was exchanged amongst them through word of mouth, under the blank gazes of both investigators and the crew on site.
It wasn't until Aves had gone back to being silent for more than a few seconds that James absentmindedly passed the microphone to his partner, Morgan, who grudgingly looked at him in response.
"What the hell am I supposed to say now?" Morgan whispered.
"And I'm supposed to know? Just ask him if he has solid proof…" James muttered back, strangely avoiding his eyes while doing so.
Clearing his throat, Morgan gave his partner one last stare before speaking into the microphone, "That's great and all, Aves. But your so-called witnesses aren't… in the right state to be talking at the moment. So, unless you have solid evidence to back your claim, I'm afraid…"
"My wallet has a copy of the taxi ride's receipt. It should have the time and date that will roughly match my claims. That's all the evidence I have, and all the evidence you need." Aves replied almost instantly, almost as if he was aware that they would ask that question.
"Uhm…" Morgan silently put the microphone away while coughing to hide his embarrassment. Turning to one of his co-workers, he asked without looking them in the eye, "Is it true?"
"Yes. We found it in his pocket."
"God dammit! Who the hell carries with him a taxi receipt, for christ's sake? And you, why didn't you tell me sooner?" Morgan's attempt at shifting the blame was pretty obvious, so the worker ended up ignoring him since he knew that, although Morgan acted as an unreasonable tyrant most of the time, he was actually a caring and fun person to work with.
It was also pretty obvious that Morgan wasn't serious with his attempt at shifting the blame, seeing as to how he grabbed the mic once again and said, "Fine. But that still doesn't prove that you weren't the one who killed her."
"Detective, are you sure you're doing your job well? Autopsy results come out fairly quickly, so you should have received a report stating that my mother's time of death doesn't match the time that I had stepped into the house. Based on what I saw, her post-mortem condition had me estimate that she had died approximately two hours before I had arrived there. Cameras around Stars college should confirm to you that I was there, on campus, at the time of death, if you still don't believe me."
There were neither hints of mockery nor condescension in Aves' voice, just pure monotony and facts as he said his piece. Morgan wasn't sure which of two he preferred, though he was getting more and more confident that he would've preferred mockery as he slowly started burying his face into his hands.
It wasn't as if Morgan wasn't able to figure out that Aves' mother had died two hours before the kid arrived at the crime scene, but, normally, people at Aves' age — hell, people of all ages really — wouldn't know, nor would they care, about the exact timing of someone's death; especially if it was someone that was close to them.
He tended to use that misinformation on the suspect's end to fish more information out of them without them knowing. It seemed that he had shot himself in the foot by trying that tactic out on the abnormal freak, who had apparently had the time to study his own mother's corpse instead of grieving over her death, however.
'Who the hell is this guy?' Morgan looked at James for support, but it seemed like his partner was having a quiet conversation with someone, so he ended up wondering about Aves' true identity — that was if he had one.
Aves' records stated that he was an ordinary college student, who had never so much as jaywalked in his entire life. So, for that kind of person to start investigating his own mother's death with such composure and observational skills that would put most veterans to shame… Morgan had an easier time believing that a dragon would eat him alive one day than whatever crap he was looking at-at the moment.
"Morgan, I think you're going to like what I'm about to tell you." Snapping Morgan out of his thoughts was James' voice.
"Okay, shoot." Morgan nodded at him in return.
"Apparently, our wonder kid right here was carrying a knife with him in his backpack." James revealed.
"There was no backpack at the crime scene though…" Morgan shot back, confused.
"You are correct. I just got done talking to one of the guys responsible for the search. As it turns out, they actually found it after getting a warrant to search his room at Stars college. Don't you think it's weird for someone to be carrying a knife with them in their bags? Especially, if it's a 'goody two shoes' like Aves here? That is… unless they are planning on committing a crime."
"What are we waiting for then? Let's ask this genius kid ourselves." Morgan grinned back at his similarly grinning partner.
Turning toward the microphone once again, Morgan did exactly as he said he would do.
"You won't believe what I'm about to tell you, kid, but you have to, because it's so funny." Morgan said in a weirdly exaggerated manner. It didn't seem to bother Aves though, who didn't even move a muscle in response, so Morgan continued, "Apparently, when we were looking around — y'know, here and there — one of our guys found a knife — a sharp one at that — in your backpack. What would you like to say about that? Oh, and if I were you, I would think really hard about what I'm about to say next… because having a knife in a bag can get people in serious trouble during normal times. And, in your case, let's just say that it will only look worse for you."
Crossing his arms, Morgan finished what he wanted to say and waited for a reply. It was only after an intermittent period of silence that Aves unhurriedly responded, "I, in fact, have two ways in which I could justify my—"
"No, no. You don't, Aves. Carrying with you a knife of that caliber will get you in trouble anywhere—" Morgan suddenly interrupted, impatience leaking into his voice.
A subtle, imperceivable twitch ran through Aves' cuffed hands, but he continued speaking nonetheless.
"The first way in which I could justify myself is that the wound that ended up killing my mother was caused by a serrated knife whereas—"
"I have some medical records here that show that your mother was three weeks pregnant… Was that the reason why you killed her?"
A rattle of chains followed Morgan's second interruption.
"You're an only child right, Aves? Was it jealousy, Aves? Were you scared—"
Another rattle; this one louder, almost a clang.
"Oi, Morgan—"
"—Aves—"
"Morgan, stop!"
"What is it, James? This kid is making excuses and you know it! He has been doing it all along! We're closing in—" Morgan hysterically began.
"Just shut up and look, Morgan!" James' voice echoed louder than anything Morgan had heard coming out of his partner's mouth before, sobering him up a little and prompting him to look in the direction of where James was pointing at.
He wished he hadn't done that.
"Detective."
That was the first word he spoke.
"When I speak, you listen."
His voice demanded absolute silence.
"Losing control of your emotions is a weakness. This world is ruthless to those with weaknesses; I am ruthless to those with weaknesses. So, make sure you cover up that weakness of yours well, detective. Or else, that weakness might be the death of you."
The silver flash that accompanied Aves' rise to his feet had managed to steal the interrogation team's attention, keeping them away from the subtle threat that had laced his evenly toned words.
The disconcerting manner in which Aves had spoken and acted, the small yet powerful gestures that accompanied his every word… it ensured that no matter what he said, or how he said it, everyone's attention unknowingly gravitated towards him.
The muffled sound of a uvula moving up and down a person's throat briefly resonated within the control room, bringing James' attention back to… earth it seemed.
"Hey, partner?" He suddenly whispered.
"Y-yes?" Morgan still appeared to be in a daze.
"I think this guy is weird, and I mean very weird."
The subtle twitch of Morgan's mouth failed to escape James' attention as the former sarcastically replied, "Oh yeah? What tipped you off? Is it the fact that his eyes are silver, or is it that he can look at us through the one-way glass?"
The two detectives weren't anywhere near the center of the pane, and were in the midst of a bunch of people in fact, and yet it seemed that Aves knew exactly where they were anyway, judging by how his eyes were currently fixed in their direction, specifically Morgan's.
"I hate it when people talk when they aren't supposed to. So, simmer down, fool."
"…"
Finding himself to be the center of such an intense stare all of a sudden, Morgan felt the emboldening words, that were about to gush out of him in retort to Aves' blatant disrespect, slowly die down within him as his throat constricted.
Clenching and unclenching his fists, he decided to stay silent and do as the kid said, despite his pride screaming at him not to do so.
He didn't know why, but his instincts told him that it would better for him, and everyone around him, if he just stayed quiet.
His dazed and blurry eyes, making it look like he wasn't looking at a specific person but at something that was far beyond them, having run their course across the entire panel —not just Morgan — Aves finally took his seat the same way he stood, appreciating the newly-found silence while doing so, and rhetorically asked,
"Now, where were we?"