Ignoble Heroes

Nico di Angelo

"Look here kid, said the detective who'd been interrogating me for the past few hours, I know you don't wanna tell us who your are or talk to me or Detective Econs or even a lawyer but you've got to say something. Otherwise, you're trapped in the system and we can't give you a legal process or free you. When our 72 hour time lapse is up the station will have to transfer you into juvenile detention until you do speak and you'll find that you are much comfier here than inside!"

Detective Zorin, an Axilonian employee of the Intergalactic Congress, looks down sorrowfully with all five eyes at what he's holding in his hands. In his first there's a pencil, his second an eraser and his third and fourth a notepad. He sets them on the table in front of me next to a Newspaper that lay forgotten.
"If you won't speak, at least write it down, tell us  your side of the story because right now, you're facing charges for terrorist acts against the Congress, multiple charges of assault and homicide, vehicular thievery, piracy, endangerment of public safety and the list goes on!" A pained look crosses his face. "Look, I don't believe that you're actually responsible for all of this. I think you're either protecting someone or you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

He sits down on the chair opposite to me, his weight making the chair attached to the table creak and jolting the table, making the manacles that cuff my wrists to the table jangle. "I'm on your side kid. I just want to help you! But I can't do that unless you help yourself. Please consider your options." At that he gets up and pattd me on the shoulder before leaving the interrogation room.

I stare long and hard at the one way glass in front of me, studying my reflection. I'm still in pretty bad shape from saving the universe from totalitarian control by flawed and greedy gods. I have a black eye and a long, hastily cauterized cut across my face plus a few broken ribs. My hands, arms and legs are littered with small scrapes and burns and cuts from all the hardships I'd gone through to protect the stones. When the police force had gotten hold of me, it was through a trade with some bounty hunters: the release of one of their own for the capture and delivery of the Human boy who'd become the most wanted person in the galaxy. The bounty hunters had found me floating unconscious in a battered space suit, nearly out of oxygen amongst the debris of the star I had just destroyed in my self administered quest to find the mythical stones that had the power to control the world. I had then been brought to the headquarters of the Intergalactic Congress where I was put into the custody of Detective Zorin after five days amongst the bounty hunters. 

I think about all that the detective's said to me. Could I really trust him? He really does seem to care about my well being. But then again so did Midas... I think back to his parting words: consider your options. Right now, I have two. No, three but that's out of the way. I can't use my powers if I want to stay hidden from the Gods, both Greek and Asguardian. It would create a power flare which would be super easy to track. I've worked so hard to stay under the radar that I can't throw it all away just to get out of jail. No that wouldn't do. My other options were to keep quiet and stay in prison possibly forever or to speak up and tell my side of the story which could get me a reduced sentence and possibly a better juvi location. Then again, my case is so big it would probably make the news all over the galaxy and I that would denounce me to the very people I was hiding from. Then again the same would happen if I didn't speak...

  Fine, I'll tell my story. With a few conditions. I get up, temporarily forgetting about my handcuffs only to be harshly reminded of them by a painful jerk. I sit back down and write in big letters I WANT TO TALK TO ZORIN and holding it up to the camera in the corner of the room, over the door.
Just like magic, the door opens and in comes Detective Zorin.
"If I talk, I have some conditions."
Zorin looks up, he's probably thinking that I'll ask for a lawyer or a shortened sentence or something of the kind.
"My name and image can't be divulged to the public and the process must be kept on the quiet side. That means no press coverage no pictures no nothing."

"Kid we don't even know your name! Now I'm pretty sure you're protecting someone. If you tell us who we can help them too, we can protect them..."
"The only person I'm protecting is myself Detective." I cut him off. "Now are my terms agreeable or not?"

He considers this for a while, weighing the pros and cons of accepting my terms but finally nods.
"The boss ain't gonna be happy but I see no other way to get you to spill." He states. "Except maybe torture but that goes against clause 207 of the Personal Rights Declaration. Plus, by the look of you, you don't seem like the type to cave in because of that sort of thing."

I recall my time in Tartarus and amongst the giant twins. A shiver runs down my spine. He knows. Zorin knows that I've been in such a situation before because the station had cleaned me up as soon as they had gotten a hold of me. They had taken my battered clothes and given me prison tats instead and when I'd tried (and failed) to use the shirt provided to choke my way out of a guard's grip, they had thought it best not to replace it so I was sitting bare chested in front of him, baring my scars and marks as proudly as I could, trying not to show how cold I was.

"Anyhow, he spoke up, interrupting my trip down memory lane, I'll leave you to your writing. I bet it'll be a real page ripper." He joked sardonically.

Once he had left, I looked down at the empty notebook and started writing my supposed confession.