A female coughed behind me, and in response I turned to look at a stern-faced police-woman.

"Ma'am, why are you talking to the suspect?"

I inconspicuously let go of my breath. I was just expecting her to throw me into the back seat of a cop car, not ask me a question. I wasn't recognized yet. But now I needed to go on another lying spree. Oh joy.

"I was questioning him,"

"What gives you the authorization to do that?"

"I'm a private investigator," I said coolly.

She looked me up and down.

"Pardon me, but you look awfully young be a private investigator,"

"People always tell me I look young for my age," I quickly responded.

"Can I see some form of identification?"

I reached for my pockets.

"Think fast, Izz, think fast," I thought.

I abruptly stopped and signed in convincing annoyance.

"They took all my stuff off me when they rounded us all up..."

I paused for a moment, as if letting everything that happened sink in. I wasn't one of the people sitting cooped up in the middle of the field, wondering if we were about to be executed at any moment, but I had to look like it.

Really though, it didn't take anything fake to achieve a glazed over look of silent dejected shock. I had been put in a situation entirely different than anyone else on the field, but that didn't spare me from a wide variety of intense emotions. I realized everything would be different. But I would move on, live with it, and do the best I could, assuming I made it out of this mess. But pardon my getting off track...

"Uhm, but what I can tell you is that all the gang members have matching tattoos on their left forearms, a diamond with a snake coiled around it, and they are the gang that I have been tracking for a...client,"

The cop seemed to be considering this. While she did so, the other cop came back with some first-aid supplies. He looked at us a little unsure, but moved toward my wounds all the same. He opened a bottle of alcohol and poured it into my cut open left palm. I clenched my teeth and made a small grunt of pain.

"Sorry," he said while wrapping the burning wound with guaze.

"It's oka-oooowOOOW!" I shrieked mid-word. The alcohol kicked in oddly late, and oddly overpowered my arm with the feeling of tingling pain. As he cleaned my other hand, the female cop looked up at me and said,

"You have five minutes with him, then he'll be carted off."

"Thank you officer, now if you would be so kind, I need you a bit of a ways away, he won't talk to me if he thinks you can hear him, his posture tells me he doesn't like you very much,"

She seemed a bit surprised and slightly offended by that remark, but nonetheless did as I asked her. After I thanked the male cop for fixing me up, both cops walked a good distance away.

Honestly, if this didn't feel so morally wrong to me, I could be a psychopath.

I looked back at Blue, but this time he was the first to speak.

"His posture tells me he doesn't like you very much," He mocked in a high-pitched feminine tone.

"Well I'm right aren't I?"

"..."

"Thought so."

I leaned into the window, resting criss-crossed arms on the opening.

"Listen, I need you to tell me what's going on," I said bluntly.

"Well why on earth should I tell you that?" He replied sassily.

"Because," I said leaning into the car.

"I want to know what the flapjack is going on! Why come to a football field, round up people, then do nothing? It doesn't make sense."

"We could've been terrorists looking to ransom all the people at the game?" He verbally thought sarcastically.

"Judging by the tone of your voice, I'd say no," I said with a knowing look.

"Why seem so intent on holding hostages, then in the blink of eye decide to free them? Something happened out there, and I think knowing what happened will help figure out why the heck all these people went through what they did!" At this point I was raising my voice progressively louder.

"Maybe," Blue said, quietly intense, "You are never."

"Ever."

"Supposed to know."

Before I could argue, his intense and soft voice prevailed again.

"Some things."

"Are seriously best left."

"ALONE."

With that last word, his voice seemed to boom without ever changing in volume, and he looked into my eyes with a powerful stare. However, behind the misty blue electric storm of his irises I caught a slight glimpse of someone who wanted to say so much in that moment of time, someone who had never trusted, but wanted to put all his trust in me, a total stranger. Someone who was torn by what he knew, and what he knows. Someone who was lost, but at the same time more found than he ever had been in his life. Obviously that might seem vaguely philosophical, slightly annoying and highly confusing, but that's the human race for ya.

I knew at that moment I had to go, because staring into his soul looking for an answer he was not willing to give would prove me no good and a waste of time, and because the clicking of a gun was heard two inches from the back of my head.