Questions and answers. The questions, I could handle. It was the answering that bothered me. I didn't know how much of this would get back to the rest of the group. And it was never good to let your enemy know too much.
"What would you say is your special talent?"
I eyed the strange man warily, and my eyes darted towards the camera. They were trying to suss me out.
"Who wants to know?" I asked.
"Who wants to know?" he repeated with a chuckle. "The whole world, of course. Come on, tell us why the world will, or won't, remember the name Billy Donogan."
I wasn't ashamed of what I was inside. Not even a little. But when I lacked to much physically, all I had was my secret dark side. And if it wasn't a secret, I had nothing.
"Who gets to see this?" I asked, jerking my thumb towards the intrusive cameraman. "The whole world?"
"Minus your contenders, that is," smirked the first man.
At least that was something.
"I'm vicious," I whispered, anticipation and fury building up in my throat, burning down my oesophagus. "I don't look like much on the outside." Especially since that bitch of a beautician made me look about three years younger. Making me a virtual six-year-old kid. "But inside I'm a killer. You think you've seen a man die every way possible? You haven't. I'm creative, I'm ruthless, I'm determined."
"Great," the man said, nodding and holding his chin thoughtfully. "Our viewers are going to love you."
"I don't want them to love me," I growled. "I don't want anyone to love me. So tell your viewers that if they say one word about me, and I get out of here alive, they'll be found one morning with all of their limbs broken, their skulls popped open like walnuts, their hearts ripped out and shoved into their mouths."