"I don't quite think you understand," such a menacing tone, if only it's owner wasn't tied to a chair, then their assailant might take it more seriously, "I'm not the one you should be worried about."

         "That's just it," the man in the corner stared with striking blue eyes, like ice, that had an equally chilling effect on the younger teen tied to the oak wood chair, "I'm not worried about you. Nathaniel, you couldn't escape if I gave you the key to those cuffs," he gestured towards the boy with a sickly white hand, hidden mostly by a black suit, a white tie the only other thing clearly visible, face being hidden by shadows, "No, it's not you that makes me twitch in anticipation and anxiety. It's that little snipe."

I'm used to these names. Of course I've been called far worse, but I won't bore you with the details, that could fill a book of it's own. No instead I'll give you the meat, skip the potatoes. That just brings us closer to desert.

         "Which one? There's quite a few at my school, I'll dumb it down for you and skip the sub categories," Nathaniel chuckled, thinking he was so smart, only to be hit across his head by a burly man dressed in all white, blood stains on his collar, the silver pin shining in the light of the living room. More like a death room with as many bodies are under the floor boards, the smell sickening, but familiar.

         "The one they call," he paused. The dramatic type, "Regean."

And there's my cue.

     I shot the big guy with a spitball, leaving him confused as he looked behind, only to see the picture of the stereotypical farm family. Mister all dark and death-like merely frowned. He knew I was here. 

         "You're oddly quiet," he remarked, taking the hidden cane from behind him. One look and you knew he didn't need it, "That's not like you, have I struck a nerve?"

Still I remained silent. 

         "Regean, Regean, Regean," he sighed, closing those icicle eyes of his, "You should know by now that you're outmatched."

He swung his cane, hitting air, but the button disguised as a Topaz extended it's blade through the gold cap at its end, and the silver edges disappeared into the morph suit I was wearing, making it glitch to reveal my perfectly fine form, the blade tucked under my armpit. I smirked at the man's wide eyes from underneath the clear visor of my helmet, and yanked the walking stick to make him stumble into the light, revealing his perfectly slicked back hair, black color shiny and stunning. The burly man in white had no gun, no one here knew what they were, so he quickly drew his knife, bringing it close to Nathaniel's tanned skin.

         "Move, and he dies."

         "I think that's the other way around buck-o."

         "Shut up Nathaniel," I took off my helmet, letting my light brown hair fall in its ponytail, "Or else I'll be the one to kill you."

The man on the floor stood, brushing off what dirt had accumulated on his perfect suit.

         "For a DC, you sure don't follow the rules," ice man chuckled raspily, "What ever happened to rule number three, 'never threaten a victim'?"

The Demention Cop Code, a simple rule book.

I hated that class.

         "You and I both know they don't care, unless you brake rule number one: Never do evil."

He chuckled again, but it changed from the sandpaper tone to pure silk, and it took my all not to go weak in the knees. How I miss that chuckle.

     He was a good few heads taller than me, the same height as he was fifteen years ago, but he was no where near the same man who left the Demention Cops a decade and a half ago. His pure white skin and ice blue eyes were never a factor, neither was the blood lust hidden behind those eyes.

         "Then I guess I've been a bad boy," he chuckled once more, and I slapped him, leaving all three men in the room stunned. I took this moment to throw my helmet at mister white's head, forcing him to back away, though not without creating a faint line on Nathaniel's neck of red, and he started to hyperventilate. What a wimp.

     I touched the cuffs on his hands and they disappeared, unfortunately the lacky behind me didn't accept his fate and tried to rip my head off, only to realize a girl only 4 foot 9 can do more damage than he thought. My head collided with his nose, the familiar snap of cartilage and bone entering the brain filling my ears, and he crumpled to the floor. Meanwhile, the leader, cheek now a bright red, stood motionless as he stared at me, a longing look in his eyes covering the blood lust that controlled him.

         "You've beaten me again," he stated monotonously, "until next time, Regean."

         "It's pronounced 'Ray-jean'."

He simply shrugged, and left through the front door of the house. The smell of corpses left, so did Nathaniel, and the body of the man in white.

     Clapping came from behind the one way glass of a window, and I bowed, expression blank. I can't show emotion towards them directly, not when the first one I feel is pure hatred toward the men in uniforms. I can't see them, but I know who they are. My Commanding Officer, my Trainer, two scientists and the head of the Demention Cops. Each knew of the man in black, they knew him as my weakness, so they tested me.

         "You're methods were... un-orthadox," came the almost-compliment from the intercom, "but they were successful. You may exit."

The door opened, but I didn't need it, simply sneezing and I was gone. Sure I could teleport, but when you have the sneeze of a pixie it gets annoying, especially when people think it's 'oh so cute'.  Also kind of weird that, while most people activate their ability via clapping, jumping, singing, listening to music or something else cool, I have to sneeze every time.

     I flopped onto my bed, it's oval shape the perfect size. My room was pure black, silver blankets the only spot of color. Everyone else had more... elaborate set ups, but this invited me more than theirs. My living pillow moved, a cold hand took out my ponytail, brushing his fingers through my long brown locks. I smiled, opening my bright green eyes to see his icy blue ones.

         "Hello Alex," I greeted the villain, placing my hand on his cheek as he leaned over so I could reach better.

         "You slapped me in that simulation." He chuckled. How I love that chuckle.

         "It was either that or kill you. They don't know your methods well enough to know that you would have slapped back."

         "Obviously," he rolled his eyes, "So how about that date?"