War of Prey

Part 1) Athrhea

"Arrogance and ignorance are horrible states of mind."

***

She sits across from him in the uncomfortable metal chairs, separated by nothing. At her request. "Mr. Davidson, can you tell me why you are here?"

"For murder."

"And whom did you murder?"

"My daughter and wife."

"Anyone else?"

"My sister and my mother."

"Can you tell me why you killed them?"

"Listen, Rhea, is it? I don't know what you're looking for here, but you aren't going to get it. I've already told them everything that happened. It's not like you can get me more years in this hell," the man, Mr. Davidson, spits. Rhea looks at him with a lifted eyebrow and looks into his eyes. No shift.

"It is Officer Haven to you, but what makes you think I am looking for something?"

"I've met hundreds of people like you, but I must admit, you are by far the most impressive," Mr. Davidson grins, teeth gleaming in the artificial light hanging from the ceiling.

"Well, we are not here to talk about me. What was it about your family that drove you to kill them, and why torture them first?" she inquires, hands intertwined under her chin, eyes blazing their normal blue, bright as Larimar.

"I want the cameras off and the officers out of the room," he demands.

"I hardly think you are in the position to demand—"

"Cameras off and officers out, or I don't talk," he interjects and leans back in the chair. His manacles clank against the table.

Rhea keeps her face still, not giving off any emotion as she has trained to do her whole life and stands to go to the door with the guards. When she relays Mr. Davidson's demands, the guards blanch, clearly not trained to remain expressionless.

"No, we can't do that. It's a setup," the officer holding the gun snorts.

"Well then, set me up," Rhea responds, voice as cold as ice. She smiles at the wary look on the officer's face.

"If something goes wrong, it's on you. Don't let him escape whatever you do," the same officer snaps, exiting the room with the other officer. Rhea doesn't respond.

Mr. Davidson looks at the door to make sure the guards are out and watches as Rhea strides to the camera, ripping the cord from the camera and wall. "There. Now talk."

"Do you want to know the reason I made that compromise?" He leans forward, arms crossed on the table.

"Do tell."

"Because I know how people like you work. You feed off of every word said, every eye twitch, and you do it in front of an audience to make them think you are a legitimate hero when all you are is a human with great senses. This prison is my turf. If I'm going to say anything it won't be on some officer's, but rather on mine. You see, I'm a fan of winning, and I don't fancy losing," Mr. Davidson divulges, not a flaw in his cool demeanor.

"That is where we have something in common; I do not like to lose either. I have always had to fight battles, and I always brought them to me. You cannot lose on your land, right?"