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"The Opera Theater Incident". That's what the media is calling it, but it's also known by another name: "The Carnegie Hall Massacre". Rumors are flying around that

it's the work of a terrorist organization. Others say that it's a childish prank gone terribly wrong, while some extremists are claiming that it was the beginning of the

end of the world, or spontaneous combustion because of secret nuclear testing. Well, the last one is definitely closer than the rest, anyway.

I headed over to the precinct I was assigned to, Precinct 17, early in the morning to fill out my report to the Chief on what happened the night before. I put in as much

detail as I could, but it was really difficult. A woman who changes to a monster, magic powers and over-sized rats with flame thrower tails, healing wounds, flashing

lights; no matter how I looked at it, it seemed more like a fantasy novel than an official report. I sighed out, leaning back on my chair, looking up at the polished wood

ceiling, my hair covering one eye. I was sitting on my desk in the precinct, paperwork and used coffee cups littering the surface, my computer monitor displaying my

name as its screen saver. I'm wearing an open, black, denim jacket with a white t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans and black sneakers, much better and more comfortable

than the dress and heels I wore yesterday. My gun is holstered on the right side of my body, hidden inside my jacket, and strapped to my left leg is my police baton,

or club as some people call it. It's a simple, steel baton about two feet long, with a single arm jutting out the side, about six inches long, that I can hold onto when

using it.

Even though it's Christmas, there was a generous number of officers in today. Some were sitting on their desk, doing paperwork or speaking with their neighbors,

taking drinks from the water fountain, or registering criminals' names in the police system. Even on Christmas, there are still those who commit crimes… It was then

that I thought about Eve again, my eyes closing. What was she doing now? Was she killing more people? It pained me to know that that monster was somewhere out

there, doing as she pleased. "Shouldn't you be resting?" a hefty voice spoke from behind me. I gasped from shock, sitting up-right on my chair as I turned to see

Daniel. I gave him a small smile, shaking my head. "Wish I could, but I'm the only one who knows what happened last night." I replied meekly, my elbow on the chair

as I rested my chin on my hand, staring at my monitor. Daniel gave out a groan, sitting by his desk next to me, his hands folding together on his belly as he studied

me for a bit. "I've been gathering some info on Melissa today." he told me. I blinked my eyes, raising my head to look at him, turning my chair in his direction. "What

did you find out?" I asked him hurriedly. Daniel shook his head, closing his eyes as he rolled his thumbs over each other. "Not much. She's got no relatives or close

friends. She was practically a hermit. All I could really find out was that she was sickly. She was always on some kind of medication. The surviving staff members

from the opera said they were amazed she could even stand on stage, let alone perform as she did." He replied, moving his hands behind his head as he looked up at

the ceiling. Medication? I breathed out as I thought about it. Melissa wrote in her diary how she always needed to take medication right up to last night…

"What kind of medication was she on?" I asked him, crossing my right leg over my left. Daniel looked at me and shook his head once again, this time bending forward

on the chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands cupped together as he looked down at them. "I couldn't figure that out yet. Her apartment burned down right

after the incident, so there's no info on her medication." he replied. I gasped out lightly in surprise. Her apartment burned down afterward? That's just like what

Melissa wrote down about her competition for the lead part, Suzanne. Are they connected somehow? "So what's this spontaneous combustion stuff all about anyway?"

a voice called out, breaking me out of my trance. I looked to my right to see one of my co-workers, Nix, standing next to me. Nix is an older, thin, balding white man

of about 50, and like Daniel, he's been in the force for a long time as a detective. He's wearing a white, short-sleeved dress shirt with a red tie, beige dress pants with

suspenders, and tan shoes. When I first started as a cop, I had the impression that he was a loner and a jerk, but as I got to know him, I learned that he's just

passionate about what he does. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor, always being serious, but I know that he's someone I can count on. "It wasn't exactly

spontaneous. They were actually set on fire…" I told him grimly. "Oh, come on! What, like one of those ESP things?" another voice asked. And soon enough, another

man walked into the conversation, standing next to Nix, looking over at me. This man's name is Warner. He's younger than the other two, only about 30 years old with

short, red hair. He was in the force for maybe about 6 years and like Nix and myself, he's a detective. He's wearing a burgundy suit with a white undershirt and black

tie, grey dress pants and matching grey shoes. I've come to know Warner as the "clown" of the precinct. He's always goofing off and never seems to take anything

seriously, which is surprising given his line of work. But, for all his antics, I know that he's also someone I can count on. I looked up at him, nodding my head lightly.

"I know it's hard to believe, but that's the best way to describe it right now." I told him. Warner simply crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth shifting in

skepticism. "ESP, huh? Well I'm not buyin' it." He objected. I didn't blame him for thinking that way. I wouldn't believe it either, if I hadn't seen it myself. "But if you're

right, how are we supposed to deal with something like that?" Nix asked, looking at the three of us in turn. I shook my head, looking down again. "That's a good

question." Daniel spoke out, leaning back on his chair again. "I'm not sure how we can deal with something like that, but one thing I do believe is Aya's word. After all,

she's the only witness so far." He finished, giving me a wink. I looked up at him and smiled warmly. "Thanks Daniel." I replied lightly. Daniel nodded his head as

Warner and Nix walked away. "So, did you give your report to the Chief yet?" he asked me. I nodded my head, leaning back on my chair. "Yeah. About an hour ago.

I'm still waiting for him to call me." I answered. It was then, as if on cue, that my phone rang. I looked over at it and picked it up. "This is Aya." I answered. "Aya, this

is Baker. Come into my office when you have a minute." The familiar deep voice instructed me. "Yes sir." I replied, hanging up the phone. "Speak of the devil. That

was the Chief. Let's see if he believes me or not." I told Daniel, standing up.

A minute later, I was standing in the Chief's office, in front of his desk. Unlike the cramped desks and mess of the other room, the Chief had this room all to himself,

and it was very neat. He has his own sofa, a coffee desk, some filing cabinets, and a big bookshelf filled with different books. He even has a big flag of the police

emblem hanging on one of his walls and blinds on his windows. The Chief himself what sitting behind his desk, leaning back on his chair as he looked up at me, my

report sitting on his desk before him. His name is Douglas Baker. An older man of 41 years with a receding hair line and short, blonde hair, he's the Chief of the

Homicide Department I was assigned to. He weighs about 250 lbs and, like Daniel, has a belly. He's wearing a Navy blue suit with matching pants, a white undershirt

and yellow tie, and blue dress shoes. "I read your report… It's hard to believe, but we can't deny all those deaths." He told me, his voice low and deep. "We're going to

go all out to solve this case, so make sure that you're prepared." I nodded my head, my eyes falling down to the floor. Exactly how much can I prepare though? I

managed to get through yesterday night through sheer luck and, as much as I didn't want to admit it, Eve's mercy. What kind of preparation do I need against

something like Eve? "Anyway, Aya, we're having a press conference in a few minutes and I want you to accompany me." Chief Baker spoke, breaking my trance. I

looked up at him quickly, my face betraying my confusion. "Me… sir?" I asked, dumbfounded. I've never been to the department's press conferences before… The

Chief nodded his

head, standing up as he adjusted his tie. "That's right. You'll be on national television as the only cop in New York to have been directly involved in this incident, and

live to tell about it." My brow furrowed a bit at this, my eyes looking down at his desk. National Television? I never would've thought I'd be on TV because of this, not

that the thought brought me any kind of happiness. All its gonna do is expose me to everyone. "I see…" I muttered, not sure how to respond to this. It seems that

Chief Baker sensed my confusion when he spoke next. "But you only answer when I ask you. The media is just looking for anything to grill us about. They may even

turn you into a suspect. So, you let me do the talking. Understood?" When he said this, my thoughts turned to the reporter that Daniel punched last night, my fists

clenching at the memory of him asking those questions, trying to make me seem guilty of something. I sighed out, nodding my head. "Yes, sir…" I responded simply.

Chief Baker nodded his head, looking at his watch. "Okay then. Let's go meet the press."

I followed Chief Baker out of his office and down a hallway, toward the meeting room that's being used for the press conference. The room was full of news reporters

sitting on chairs, and news cameras at the back, pointing towards the podium on the opposite end of the room, right in front of a large chalk board with two cops

standing by it, on either end. Once Chief Baker walked in, the cameras started to flash like mad and questions were immediately thrown. I was feeling very over-

powered right now, but the Chief didn't seem affected at all, simply making his way up to the podium like nothing was going on. I guess that's his experience

showing… I followed him up to the podium and stood to his left as he motioned for the reports to pipe down. Once they were quiet, he leaned toward his mike to

address them, the cameras still rolling and flashing. "Thank you all for coming. I am Captain Douglass Baker of New York City's 17th Police Precinct and Chief Officer

of the Homicide Division. Now, as you are all aware, last night at approximately 8:03 pm, there was an incident at Carnegie Hall…"

I simply stood where I was as the Chief spoke to them, trying not to look distressed as those cameras all pointed at me. So… we're live right now? The whole world is

watching me right this moment? It's a little unnerving… I wonder if Eve is watching me right now, grinning that cold smile of hers, mocking me from afar… Something I

noticed while the Chief spoke was how he neglected to mention my encounters with Eve. Did he intend to keep it secret? Even if it is the truth, it is really hard to

believe, but still… "I'll be taking some questions now. Yes?" The Chief spoke, my eyes lifting up the reporter that he pointed to. The reporter stood up, notebook and

pen in hand. "So, are you saying that this could be the work of a terrorist?" he asked. Chief Baker nodded his head in agreement to him. "Yes, this is what we

currently speculate." he answered. "How about accounts of officers and firemen at the scene bursting into flame?" the reporter then asked. What? I didn't know that!

Did it happen while I was looking for Eve…? "That was…" I started to answer timidly, before the Chief cut me off. "That was due to a rare, highly flammable chemical

which was used to start the fire." I looked at the Chief when he told them this. Did he really not intend to tell them the truth? I know it's hard to take in, but it's still the

truth. I looked down at the floor, biting my lip. Is it really okay not to tell them…? As I contemplated this, the Chief called on another reporter to ask a question.

"There have been reports that Detective Brea investigated deeper into the hall where the incident took place, and came out as the only one who wasn't burned, even

though everyone else inside the hall was burned to death. How did you manage to survive all by yourself?" another reporter asked. I looked at the reporter,

swallowing hard. "That is a result of her quick thinking and training as an officer…" the Chief spoke again, before the reporter cut him off this time. "I'm asking HER the

question!" he interrupted, prompting the Chief to stop talking. Now all eyes were on me. I don't think I've ever been more nervous in my life, even after fighting all

those monsters last night. All cameras were solely on me now, the reporters watching me like hawks, pens squibbling away on note pads. Even the Chief was looking

at me, but I dared not to look at back him, for fear of losing my nerve, my heart beating quickly in my throat. How did I survive? How was I left unharmed, with no

burns or

cuts or scrapes, with only a torn, dirty dress and putrid stench, while everyone else was burned alive? It was because… because…

Even if you don't understand, don't worry. Your mitochondria will… they've always known…

Eve flashed through my mind again, her words echoing through my head. I took a deep breath, looking out at all of the reporters, into their cameras, at the world…

"She said… that it's because of my mitochondria… that they're… different…" I told them all. At that moment, all the reporters stood up from their seats, camera flashes

filling the room, blinding me as they hurdled more questions at me. "Aya!" Chief Baker screamed out at me, but I didn't look at him. They needed to know the truth,

no matter how crazy it seemed… "Mitochondria? What do you mean by that? Who said that?" they started to ask me. I took another deep breath and walked forward

passed the Chief. "Melissa… No, she said her name was Eve." I confessed. The camera flashes continued as the reporters started to talk to each other, unable to

believe what they were hearing. "Melissa? Do you mean Melissa Pearce?" "But there are reports saying that she was killed in the fire!" "But who's Eve? Is she the

terrorist?" They were all frantic, asking me all these questions, but I wouldn't buckle down by them, feeling my second wind coming. "Melissa did die. Her body was

taken over. Taken over by Eve." "Taken over? By what? What is this Eve? Some kind of alien?" The reporters almost seemed like they were having a field day.

Honestly, it was a little disgusting for them to take the situation so lightly, but maybe they believe me? They kept pelting questions my way, until Chief Baker stepped

in front of me, waving his hands for the reporters to quiet down. "People, please! She is very tired, and we are still investigating! That will be all for today!" he shouted

over them. The reporters looked like they would go mad when he said that, their questions still flying my way as he escorted me out of the conference room. I'm in

trouble now…