"Where did you even get wind of this plan? One of my crew squeal on me? Was it Johnny tight lips? I bet it was him. Always yappin'." None of the coppers had given me a straight answer during the long interrogation, so they brought in their errand boy, Mr. Amazo. The golden god of the city, a real boy scout. We'd had our run-ins before, but nothing like this. Mr. Amazo looked confused, it was out of character.

"Stop trying to deflect the question Butcher! I looked into your financials, you've been buying a lot of industrial sized meat grinders, along with spices and tomato sauce in bulk. The police have already confiscated them for evidence. You're going away for a long time, just tell me why? Why a human meatball?" Mr. Amazo slammed his hands on the metal table, leaving behind large dents.

I shook my head, Mr. Amazo may be super fast and strong, but super intelligence was not part of his repertoire. "You got it all wrong, I'm going legit. Gonna get into that business where you make meat out of vegetables. People are tryin to eat healthier nowadays. Figured I could make a quick buck. The human meatball thing was just a joke, part of the brainstorming session I had with the underlings about our new business venture."

Before I could say another word Mr. Amazo grasped me by the collar of my butcher's smock and slammed me against the wall, breaking the handcuffs and flipping the table in the process. "You expect me to believe that Braylene the Butcher is going legitimate? Leave the jokes to The Jester, you're going to be in the cell next to him. I'll make sure of that."

I kissed Mr. Amazo on the nose, he always liked that. I think he has a thing for me. "That's cruel and unusual punishment, never gonna happen. Can't a girl start a small business in this town without everyone thinking I'm up to something? I ain't carved up nobody in years, last one was your sidekick if I remember correctly. What was his name again?"

I was tossed across the room like I was yesterday's garbage. Mr. Amazo yelled in anguish as he bent the metal table in half. Must have touched a nerve with that one. I smiled at him, he glared back.

"You're filth Butcher! Stop lying to me! How were you going to do it? Grind them up alive!? Use the meatball as some biological weapon!? ANSWER ME!" Mr. Amazo punched a hole through the one way mirror, the coppers on the other side spilled their coffee and doughnuts. I helped myself to a glazed doughnut, little stale.

"Do you cook?" I asked as I chomped on the doughnut.

"No, solar radiation sustains me. Everyone knows that."

"No wonder you fell for it then. Do you know how much effort it would take to make a meatball like that? The amount of eggs and breadcrumbs I would need for stabilizers. It would be impossible to get the spices right. Where am I gonna find a stove that big to finish cooking it in the sauce? What would I do with the bones? Make the world's biggest pot of stock to go along with the world's biggest meatball? I know my rights, you can't keep me here much longer. Now there ain't no clocks in here but it should be happening right about now." Hopefully the boys followed my instructions like I told them to.

"What are you rambling about?" Mr. Amazo demanded. I laughed in his face.

"You coppers want to turn on the news in there?" I politely asked the boys in blue on the other side of the shattered window. They turned on a small tv, their eyes widened. With lightning speed Mr. Amazo was watching along with them.

A look of fear and anger crossed Mr. Amazo's face, he turned up the volume so I could hear.

"Breaking news coming from downtown, police forces are engaged with a mob of protestors heading towards central lockup. The protestors are all dressed in meatball costumes. Our eye in the sky helicopter is providing the footage you see here......." The newsfeed cut off.

I poked my head through the glass. "I forgot to mention something, Putrid Paula let me use some of her mind control dust, dumped in the reservoir this mornin. You might want to go take care of that, it's only gonna get worse. Should have been more clear, not gonna turn everybody into one big meatball, gonna turn everyone into their own meatball, and I'm the cook plating out the spaghetti."

Mr. Amazo flew out through the ceiling. The coppers let me go, they were already under my control. Once my meat minions multiplied, I was gonna have seven billion loyal customers, I was set for life. Mr. Amazo would be under my thumb eventually. The rioting city streets sang the song of profits.