• “Where were you last night?” the man quoted in almost a sincere amusement, “Remember when you asked her this two days ago?” He allowed for a response, but I couldn’t find it in me to say anything. The only thing I could hear was my own faint breathing; a simple silent gulp ran down my throat.
    The man continued as if he were shocked, “Well… I never thought you’d respond like this, Marcy…” again, I was speechless, nor did I know how to take the comment, “But then again, you Gamri Experiments…” my breath seized, “… do have a knack for being rather unexpected.”
    As if by natural instinct, I quickly looked behind me twice to make sure no one was around. My curled black hair landed along my cheekbone, brow and nose; a moment passed before I brushed it behind my shoulder. The strain in my violet eyes strengthened when I settled them once more on the darkened figure that stood in the corner of an alleyway shadow. I cleared my throat and asked him: “What do you want?”
    Whatever light managed to make its way into the darkness, glinted on this man’s simply formed smile. He took a step forward, allowing the dim light to describe him in detail. Under a charcoal trench coat, his arms figured a to be fairly tone. It was the same with his legs, hidden under ash black slacks. Brown hair neatly combed to the right, this man was clearly with the law. But I did not want this mysterious character anywhere near me, and took a step back.
    The man stopped where he was, as if to respect my wish, his smile shrank into a clearly fake grin, “Gamri B,” his voice turned frighteningly strict, “I believe you have an understanding of what really happened to Gamri A on Easter night.”
    I took another step back, “No…” my voice began to tremble, “I believe you’re mistaken,” I could feel my tone weaken; something painful lodged itself in my throat as I struggled to continue, “I was home cooking dinner that night.”
    “Gamri B…” the man continued, walking closer towards me, “…Marcy,” I responded by walking further back, twisting my body slightly in preparation to run if I had too, “Three days after Easter night, we found your older sister unresponsive in the streets. Undetermined toxins were found in her blood stream,” he stopped after a few steps of failed approach, “And ever since then, she has unpredictably gone into potentially violent rages.”
    Just inches away from the exit of the alleyway is where I stopped; I kept my senses high incase of an ambush, but my eyes remained deadlocked on the man in front of me. I thought a small smirk may get him off my back, “So she got a little too stoned this time around,” after all, she was a well known binge drinker.
    At first, the man didn’t seem to have anything to say. His eyes continued to peer deeply into mine; I honestly couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Then he reached his right hand into his back pocket and pulled out a wallet. Flipping it open, he showed me a detective’s badge, “Marcy Gamri Experiment B, our security cameras reveal a woman injecting an unknown substance in Emi Gamri Experiment A on Easter night before fleeing into the direction of where you work. The woman identifiably has similar characteristics of three women in the area with background knowledge of botany . You are one of them, Gamri B.”
    I grimaced at him with an unsatisfying response. He approached even closer to put me in handcuffs, almost a ritual for the Gamri Experiments, for our attitudes were supposedly unpredictable and sometimes dangerous in the eyes of others. But the fact that this detective was passively accusing me of poisoning my older sister; it was enough to ignite the anger within me. And it wasn’t that I disagreed with his accusation either, I’d rather have the chance to trick these pitiful courts.
    The detective circled around me, grabbing one of my wrists as he went back. He could no longer see my facial expression, which snapped instantly into a narrowed eyed, grinding teethed leer of hatred. He reached for my other arm, but I jerked it back into his gut. I took advantage of his brief recovery; swirling around and ramming him into the nearby garbage cans before making a break for it.
    Speeding along these shadowy streets, I could hear him yell from behind. Only imagining the detective must’ve called for backup, I knew he’d catch up to me quickly if I didn’t improvise. I knew these lanky streets quite well and soon turned down a side street that led to another, which led to another and so on. The city was like a massive maze with all its random turns and dead ends; it was the linked pathways that all the Gamri Experiments knew about.
    All the Gamri Experiments had their differing perks and whatnot, but the Federal Government was beginning to pick up on one commonality: we all had something dangerous about us. My experimental name is Gamri II; the public knows me simply as a botanist with Doctorate qualifications. But not even the Federal Government knows what I’m capable of creating. Emi was just one of my few targeted victims.