The Incident

I'm really not sure why the police are so angry at me. It's not like I hurt anyone. Much. My only crime is being devilishly handsome and trusting my partner in crime. So much for loyalty, Jessica. She had been livid when I'd had that affair, but she really wasn't one to criticize. I slip into the door to my apartment and take the elevator to the second floor. What were the police going to do, follow me onto my private property? Without a warrant? That would be unbelievably stupid. It would invalidate any evidence the obtained, as it would've been done so illegally.

Besides being incredibly clever and currently being chased by the Washington DC police, I was also a domestic terrorist. I can't imagine why they would call me that. All I did was bomb the White House. It's not like there were many people in there, I planned it that way. I was making a statement, not trying to get anyone killed. I had failed however, and there were two people's blood on my hand. And the president's cat, but I hate cats. One scratched me as a child, plus I'm allergic. That's plenty reason to hate the filthy creatures.

Enough talk about me, as fabulous as I am. There is a bigger problem at hand. The police are nearly on me. And there's a cat in here. My worst fear. It's all I can do not to shriek. Damn it. Jail is starting to look like a viable option. Time to get out of here. I don't want to test the private property thing. I drop out of the room through the second story window, rolling as I hit the ground. I duck into the car my getaway driver, who did not betray me, Jessica, has parked across the street. Some

"What are you waiting for?" I shout. "Drive!" And he does, going well above the speed limit, which the police also did. Hypocrites. Add speeding to my list of crimes, I guess. With the city behind me, I head to a farmhouse in the country to lay low for a while. I had no desire to receive the death penalty. A man as remarkable as me should never be defeated in such a humiliating manner. Caught by city police. What a pathetic way to end a movement. And why pretend otherwise, I don't have any legitimate criticisms to levy, but I had made up plenty in case the media asked. I desperately hope they would. Attention is my drug, and it's as potent as any other. For now, I have to lay low. I hate it here.