The lights in the interrogation room were bright. Like miniature flares, or explosions, held into place for eternity. Three walls were concrete, and a cold feeling echoed off them. The wall directly ahead of Conner was a one-way window, so he could see the reflection of the guard's back.

The guard was a mutt mixture of a doberman and a labrador, but she had a calm demeanor. She didn't shout, or talk with much expression. She simply asked questions about what happened a few hours ago.

As Priscilla and Conner were being carried away, Priscilla had whispered quietly and slowly to Conner, hoping the police wouldn't hear.

"What ever you do, don't tell them of our powers. Tell them the truth, but leave out the rest."

She was right, in a way. But it might have been better to tell them of their powers, so they could have found a doctor or something. Or dissect them.

"This interrogation is being recorded. The date is May tenth, 2704. The suspect is Conner S. Toll.

"Conner, where were you at six PM last night?"

He took in a deep breath, trying to remember. It was such an easy question, but his speeding thoughts wouldn't let him remember! "I was at the frice cream parlor."

"And who were you with?"

"My friend, Priscilla Donnell."

"And where were you at seven PM?"

"In the police car."

She sighed with slight annoyance. "Okay, where were you at six thirty?"

He paused. "The Frice cream parlor."

Her eyebrows furrowed. Conner could tell she was trying her hardest to keep calm, despite her first impression.

"Did you go to the bank at all?" She barked.

"Yes, we were... getting some cash, and we found the cats there."

"Could you describe them?" she asked.

"Most of them had masks on. All of them had burnt fur and glowing eyes of different colors, like blue or purple. Their paws had electricity coming from them."

"Interesting," The guard said with awe, "what did the cats do after you arrived?"

"They held guns to us, and said they'd shoot us if we moved. We stayed in place as they took the money and ran away."

She nodded slowly, as if she wasn't impressed. What else could he have said? He couldn't say he attacked them, or that would lead to further questions. He couldn't say they didn't threaten him and Priscilla, or else the guard would wonder why he didn't call the authorities.

"Did you see anything, anything, before tonight that seemed... strange? Abnormal?"

He gulped. "No."

"Then I have one final question for you, then you may return to your cell." She coughed a little, then cleared her throat. "Are you guilty of anything we accused you of?"

He shook his head. "No."

"Then you are dismissed. Tell the guard outside to send..." She checked the tap pad before her. "Priscilla Donnell in."

Conner nodded to her, then left the eerie room.

********

The school cafeteria bustled with talkative energy, with even more vigor than usual. The terrible scent of stale bread and meat loaf was almost forgotten as the students awed over Prom, and the freshman's flooded hallway. Not flooded as in a lot of kids, but actually flooded.

Prom was a common topic that bubbled in conversation since New Year's, and it didn't stop till August passed by. But girls and boys alike talked of the two-meter high wave that swallowed every tap pad and wet every carpet in sight. Teachers down the hall had to teach else where as their rooms were drying, and the freshmen had to refrain from using their lockers. They were infuriated about carrying everything in their bags.

The wave of destruction had started after school on Tuesday. Luckily, the only people in the building were a few students catching up on late assignments, teachers grading papers, and janitors. One of the cleaning crew was scrubbing toilets, and the water began to rise. (now remember, these are animals who are cleaning the toilets. They don't have hands. So how do they hold they scrubber? Well, you guessed it!) The water began to spew over the seats, and onto the checkered floor. The sinks and drinking fountains wanted to play waterfall as well. Within minutes, the hallway had been turned into a river.

Luckily, it all dispersed. But the mess remained, and no one wanted to clean it. But it had to be done and dried before mold settled in.

Little did anyone, but a few animals, know that Joseph Karthin stayed after school to finish his art project. He checked out of the art room at four PM, looking forward to going home and relaxing. At about four, the flood had started it's evil journey to destroy the art room.