CARLOS CLARK
"Captain Clark, NYPD." The announcer says. I stand up, the lights immediately on me in the room.
"Mr. President." I bow my head. "How is that American asset coming along?" He asks, right away. I don't even get a breather to think for myself in here.
"He has been tracking, noting, refining their work for months now. There are fragile steps he has to take in order to efficiently arrest them without bringing down the rest of the forest—"
"Not him," He laughs. "The girl. How is she coming along?"
'The Girl' is the one and only Claire (Timber) Alpharo of Arcana, New York.
She has been a running experiment for years now, ever since she moved up in the criminal ranks.
Everett Ballard has had it out for her since she was fourteen. She woke havoc in the city almost next-door to the Red House and he's always wondered why.
"She's progressing. Like always sir," I clear my throat formally. "Alpharo has gotten smarter since Striker arrived in town and it's primarily because she knows she is his assignment.
"Her brain has been almost paranoid; working overtime to try and always predict his next move and it has been working, more times than none."
Ballard nods his head, gesturing for me to go on. "She has figured out the patterns in which he attacks them, and how he phrases things depending on what he wants. Her memory storage has been increasing with time, but it is now at a peak of observation in regards to what is happening around her, so frequently."
"What does this tell us, Captain?" Ballard asks, not looking amused. "That she's ready. Give her a new name, a new occupation, a new personality. Claire Alpharo will not exist anymore."
There's whispers, murmurs under the light. "Why would we pay to support a criminal? Who has put you and your department, even the entirety of New York as a state to shame?" Someone else says, I frown, feeling a little humbled.
"I am only proposing an idea for you to think about. If what you want to follow through with as a Country is still in your head, maybe this is something you consider." I say, carefully.
"Carlos, tell me what you want. Don't use formalities. Lay it out flat to me." Ballard decides, overtaking the rest of the voices as he shifts in his seat.
"I want her in our Military. Put her in the proper training, enhance the work she does mentally and continue with her as an experiment like usual," I shrug. "She will be a killing machine out there. You haven't seen true fear in peoples faces until there's a girl hiding from the world."
"Don't bring gender into it." He comments quietly, still interested in what I have to say nonetheless.
"My bad," I say. "Claire out in the field is one thing, but imagine if we could double it."
"Double it how?" Someone asks for him. I smile. "Raven Louvremont. They are a paired duo; package deal that never goes on sale, even on a black friday!"
"I don't want Louvremont," Claire isn't going to like that if I bring it up to her some day. "She's degrading. She's young and while Claire moves up, she goes down."
That feels like a personal target. "Her father was too observant of excess stuff that had no real meaning. He claimed he was a scientist; found a way to keep someone alive again."
"I didn't know that." I admit. Maybe I shouldn't have suggested bringing both of them to the Military. One would financially, and politically be enough.
"If Raven Louvremont somehow changes in the time she is working against the Officer, I might reconsider my option. Or have an alternative," He shakes his head, still not convinced.
"Operation is still a go with Claire.
Tell Officer Striker that he has a new directive."
§
"How did you get your name?" I hold my chin.
"I hate my name." She mumbles, ignoring most of me. "Which one?" I say, seriously.
"Both of them. I have always hated the name or nicknames Claire and Timber."
"Why?" I'm generally curious now. It's interesting that a ridiculous nickname like Timber is used to represent a state thief.
"Are you really that interested, sir? I thought you would want to be hearing my answer for you but no, you want the stupid stuff." She grumbles, mumbling other stuff that I don't hear.
"You have an answer?" I repeat, a little shocked. I didn't think the conversation with Raven would go so quickly, that's either a good thing or a bag thing. She nods. "Okay, go on then."
"It's a yes." Claire replies, slowly. "If," My smile fades. Always an if or a but. "Raven stays alive. No death penalty. Put her in a maximum security prison—"
"This is a max security prison." I tell her.
"No it's fucking not. Max security my ass I got out of here more than a year ago like nothing! It took me about two weeks!" She scoffs, making a claim. Yes, she's correct.
"Where are you wanting her then?" I nod my head. She's trying to make a point. "I don't care where she is. As long as she's alive, I will work for you."
I sigh, staring at her. She's taking advantage of what I'm offering because she knows I want it, and that the government wants it. "Deal. We have a deal." I turn my head. I'm not gonna put my hand out and shake on it.
I don't know if Ballard will like this, much, but at least him and I both get what we need.
"Thank you, Carlos. I do... appreciate the second chance." Claire says, soft and gentle. It sounds nothing like her, I had never thought a girl like her could be so sympathetic.
She's a cold, dangerous, vicious criminal. Being kind isn't a part of nature, it's a tool; bribing.
"It's not a second chance," I scoff, putting some attitude back in my voice because I will not let my guard down around her. "You're not going to have it easier out there. No more robberies, you're making less amounts of money, no beautiful parts to spend on, All of that is over the moment you get into that transport truck."
"And you don't even have your best friend in your life anymore." I add on. That part hurts her. She can live without the robberies, the cars, the parts. She can't live without her best friend.
I don't know who I classify as my best friend, but I can't live without them either. It's hard.
That is the only thing I can sympathize for her. "Can I write to her?" She asks quietly. "Sure. Every word you put in a letter will be encrypted and someone will watch you write it. Someone will watch Raven open it and read it," I say.
"Do you understand what you said yes to?" I exhale, that's a lot of words in a short amount of time.
"Please stop talking, Carlos. Don't make me regret this." Claire whispers, voice breaking. I get it now, she does regret it. She wants to live. She believes she's just a kid who has done no harm.
Because initially, she hasn't done any harm to people. She's done bad to the community, the economy and the government. Like someone working for Ballard said, she put shame to this State.
And that's exactly why I want her, and why Ballard does too. Because imagine what she could do to an entire country with the proper plan, equipment, and training.
Claire Alpharo would be unstoppable.
"How long do I have until I see the Judge?" She frowns, dwelling on the silence. "2 hours now," I respond, checking my watch again. "Do you have any final requests? I cannot permit another talk with Raven because that arouses suspicion."
"Fine," She blows raspberry, probably thinking about what she wants. This is the hardest part for all criminals, doesn't matter how good or bad they are deep down.
Thinking of the last thing you want before your entire life changes, whether or not it's with death.
"Striker."
"Hm?" I ask, not processing it.
"I want to talk to Striker," Another idea comes to her, "With a last meal."
"You do want a last meal, okay." I enunciate, surprised she would've actually wanted that. By Lawless' personal scoutings, she was not typically the person who would eat often.
Maybe she was busy with robbing and planning, or she was genuinely hurting herself.
It's not my business, and I don't care. It is only info, and possible evidence or blackmail for me.
"I want a smoothie. A big, pomegranate power smoothie." She smiles widely, probably imagining the drink in her head. I lick my lips, "Yeah. I can do that. You'll have it when you talk to Striker."
"I've always loved smoothies," She starts. Is she going to tell me her life story? "Don't get me wrong, alcohol is great, but I've always had a soft spot for these blended fruit drinks."
"I'm glad," I stand up. "You're going back to cell, at least thirty minutes. You get one hour with Striker but that's it."
"One hour is all I need." Her voice changes, more aggressive. I lift my head up, "Good. I'm grateful we could agree on this," She says nothing and we just stare, exchanging emotions in our eyes. "Get lost." I finalize, and the guards come back in, roughly grabbing her as she flails around in their grasp.
She's going down the hall, looking over her shoulders consecutively to find me.
I sigh, walking into the main quarters of the building, getting all of my clearances checked. Everyone salutes at my entrance, reports coming to me.
"Captain, Inmates' report." Someone says to me, I take the clipboard and just sign it. "I don't want the general report. I want her report." I place it back in his hands and he nods, apologizing and rushing to find the one I want.
I'm drinking my coffee, sitting on a counter next to the viewing room. In minutes, Claire and Striker will be having a conversation about whatever, and I'll be listening.
And he knows that. She doesn't.
Which is going to make it all the more fun for me.
"Carlos, can I ask you something?" Taylor, my closest co-worker asks, sighing to himself. "Sure, boss." I shrug, eyes on the empty room trying to picture what could go down.
"What makes Alpharo so... special? So different from any other criminal? I'm just trying to paint a picture here." He seems hesitant, but so curious.
I check over my shoulder to make sure it's just us on this side of the corridor and it is. "She's genuinely smart. Street smart for sure, but she does literally know lots of things to make her book smart too.
"It's not just influence, she's got a head. She knows how to use it. She's like the male version of Lawless over there; cunning, relentless, aggressive, smart, tactical, intelligent. I could go on." I scoff.
"The point is," I begin to finalize. "She actually pays attention. Other criminals like Kyarra look for the finish line, not the start."
There's almost a glow of admiration in his eye and I don't know if it's for me or for the criminals. Either way, he is impressed by what Claire did, and what she could.
Right on queue, she is brought into the room, which is a snowy white color with neon imprints to design. There's other hidden electronics and accessories in there too but they can remain unnamed.
Being sat down, her legs are bound to the chair but her hands are just in cuffs. Alone for a few minutes, eventually a guard comes back with the smoothie she requested.
It's strange actually, her face is emotionless until the door shuts and then she becomes raw, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably.
Striker walks in, sitting down without saying a word. She's still drinking her smoothie, smiling as tears continue falling. "Claire?" He finally sighs, and she lifts her eyes to him. "You wanted to talk to me?"
"Yeah," She puts her cup back down. "I thought since I'll be dying, that I should talk to my favorite person who was there for me since day one." Her hands linger in her hair. "I've been here since day one?" He scoffs. "That's news to me."
"Striker," Claire pauses, "Could you just tell me stuff about you that you wouldn't publicly tell me?"
"I'm not allowed to tell you anything about myself or my profession in detail-"
"Oh my god, I'm fucking dying," She shouts, trying to play mind games with him because in reality, she gets to hold that info until she dies to someone else. "Spare me a little humanity." He places his mask on the table, sniffing sharply through his nose. It's still surprising to see him without it, after so long.
"What do you really want, Claire?" He asks, gently. She sits forward, resting her elbows on the metal table. "Your name."
"Striker."
"Your real one, idiot."
"Why?"
"I've always been curious, you don't call me Timber anymore so it only feels fair." She shrugs. I keep drinking my coffee. Granted, he told me his name once but I never remembered, because at the time he was so irrelevant to New York as a whole.
"Timber is a stupid name." He laughs, genuinely. "And Striker isn't? God how did you pull off that one?" Claire drawls, rolling her eyes.
To a normal person standing here watching, they would look like old friends, doing an annual visit. But when you actually know the history, the chemistry sitting between these two is stronger than a fire.
"People always told me I struck them with my sarcasm, humour, or comments. I was also told that I had striking looks." His smile widens. "Who let you get away with that one?" She jokes, presumably.
I've got Taylor writing things down, more of Claire but I notice he adds details about Striker too. I'm glad he's taking those observations.
"My brother worked for NYPD." He blurts. I tilt my head, I wasn't aware of that. "Worked," She enunciates the past-tense, "Where is he now?"
Dead is my first assumption. "Military. American Military of course. On one of the highest squadrons." He flexes his brothers ranking as if it's own. Makes me wonder if he followed in his footsteps.
Military, I think, exactly where Claire is going to go. Maybe telling her his government name isn't good, because she might run into him at some point.
"Impressive. Why aren't you in the Military with him?" She bites the straw, chewing on it as a fidget method. "America as a whole has no reason to go to war any time soon, so joining the military and seeing a battle when I'll be so old I could call myself a veteran is pointless."
Oh, Striker. If only you knew what President Ballard is getting himself into.
"You never know, anything can happen in 20 years." Claire says, optimistically. He snorts, "What a shame you won't be around then so I can't prove you wrong."
"Tell it to my spirit... visit my grave or something. Decorate it, piss on it, do something nice." She leans back, as if imagining what her tombstone would look like.
They're both quiet for what feels like ages. I've finished my first cup of coffee by now and I just sent someone to fill me another.
"Maximus." He says, loudly. Claire blinks, "Sorry?—" She mutters.
"Maximus Kovalev." Striker places his hand out to shake hers. Taylor and I are so frozen we could replace the Statue of Liberty together.
Never in a million years did I think she could get his name out of that mouth.
"Claire Alpharo." She shakes it, barely. The cuffs restrict too much movement so she looks more like a T-Rex. It's like they're meeting for the first time.
"Tell me a little bit about yourself, Max. How's your personal life?" She smiles using his real name. I think she likes it.
He seems uncomfortable with the fact she has his name now, but he looks like he is okay with it at the same time.
"My birthday is October 11th, 2021. I am 28 years old and was born in Irvine, California." Taylor is quick to write everything he adds on down. I should object, as it is personal information but Striker knows that we're listening.
Just not for the reason he thinks.
"Wow, you're quite old." She scoffs. He shakes his head at her with a smile. "And how old are you?"
"My birthday is August 13th, 2025. I am 24 years old," Claire hesitates. "I was born here; Arcana, New York." Why would she hesitate? Is she lying? It doesn't seem logical.
"August baby?" He says, making an 'okay' face. I sigh to myself, "Get to the point, S." I say to the room, and Taylor. He nods in agreement.
"What's your brothers name? I'm guessing he's older." She keeps drinking, moving the straw around in the cup. "Hunter." He says, right away.
"Bland," She hmphs and smiles. "Yours has more life."
"Can I tell you something?" Striker leans his head back. "Of course you can." She shrugs like it's obvious.
"There's this girl," She raises a brow at him. "She's honestly quite annoying, but it's unfortunate because she's so smart and I love it."
"You should tell her that then," Claire says, confidently. "I'm sure she'd be thrilled to hear it."
He laughs again, lowering his head to look at his hands. "No, I can't." She shifts her sitting position so her knees are up at her chest. "Why not? Too egotistical, muchacho?"
"She's leaving, that's why."
"Where is she going?"
"To kick the bucket." He says, raising his voice to make it clear who he's talking about. Claire stiffens up, visibly trembling in her seat.
"Kick the bucket?" Taylor mumbles, indirectly asking me what he means. "Expression. Claire's the girl he's talking about and she's dying."
"I'm surprised he's saying all of this stuff knowing we're listening." He adds. I nod slowly. It is weird. Maybe he doesn't care anymore because he's going back to LA to continue work, or because he knows we're listening and wants us to hear it.
I'm going to get a headache if I keep pondering.
"Sir, sorry to disturb you but the Governor is here." One of the receptionists says. I mumble thank you and turn around to greet the man. For a Governor, he looks fairly good, in terms of age. He's got to be at least 40 or 50.
"Clark, I assume?" I offer my hand first and he shakes it firmly. "Yes, that's me."
"Great. I'm Governor Dundeu, I think you know why I'm here." Dundeu looks behind me at the glass window where they are still talking.
"Yes, you're right on time." I nod, taking the clipboard from Taylor and handing it to the Governor. "Notes? I'm impressed."
"That's what Taylor'll do for you." I chime, noticing a small grin on his face. I was so busy worrying about Taylor's notes, and Dundeu's arrival that I ceased to notice the guards holding Claire back because she's cursing at Striker, for some reason.
"You fucking shot her? Why the fuck would you do that?!" She screams, I think. I barely grasped that sentence because I'm seeing the uncertainty on Dundeu's face now.
"It was an order." He shouts back at her, hand on the table. "So? You have disobeyed thousands of orders for me! Because I was your order; your directive!" She wrestles the guards, trying to get out.
There is so much doubt in the room. "You truly think I did those things for you? Have a little bit of sense, Claire." Striker laughs.
She leans back, stunned. Her brows are so lowered it's almost hard to see her eyes. "Yes, I loved you," He tells her. I blink at that revelation, trying to process things again. "But at the end of the day my job comes first and that is to keep you behind bars."
"Why are you so brutal?" A tear slides down her cheek, emotions clear on her face. He places his hands in his hair, stress. "Don't do that," He exhales, "Don't ask questions you know the answers to."
"I don't—"
"Yes you do!" Striker flares. "I laid myself bare in front of you more than I ever should've and it changed nothing because look where we are right now."
She wipes her tear on her shoulder, guards still restraining her. "This? This was your doing. Don't act like I got us in this situation."
"But you did, Claire. The moment you robbed that store almost ten years ago you put yourself in this spot," He spits, pointing fingers. "You didn't stop. That's the problem. That very reason is why I was called across the fucking country to assess you, and arrest you."
She bites her lip, Dundeu is watching closely, almost not bothering to bat an eye at Striker because his prize is vulnerable. "Don't act like you care so much," She mumbles. "I told you stuff I would never dream of saying publicly, and all it left me was a broken heart and metal cuffs."
"Then that's on you," He sighs. "You should know better than to trust officers. You've heard that once or twice, haven't you?" He smiles, getting her weak spot. "From Kyarra, yeah?"
"Keep her name out of your mouth." Claire snaps. "You should've listened to her, paid more attention when she said trying to retaliate against me, or negotiate with me in any way was a shitty idea. But you didn't!"
"How did you... know?—" She sputters, fear washing over her skin to turn her pale. "I had cameras, Claire. Cameras everywhere inside that fucking base. Trackers in that damn car of yours and it was even easier to put it in your plane.
"I was always two. Steps. Ahead."
She looks at him, roughly but she stays where she stands. I don't know what's going through her head but I can imagine it starts with putting a bullet in his skull.
"Please take me away. I think I talked to you long enough, Striker," She mumbles. The guards hesitantly obey her command and start walking her until she stops them at the door. "Striker?"
He sighs, turning to face her, carelessly. "I still love you. Since this is the last time you will ever see me, I'll tell you that with full confidence." She forces a smile.
"Maybe if you just have a little sympathy left inside that fucked up head of yours, you'll visit Raven at least once or twice, since I'll be gone." Claire finalizes, eyes puffy and red.
"Already in my agenda." Striker avoids eye contact with her, staring at her original seat and now empty cup. "Anything else?" I hear the guard in the room faintly ask.
He bangs his fist on the table and walks right over to Claire, grabs her out of the officers' clutches and hugs her. His head in her shoulder, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other on the back of her head.
She sobs into his chest, finding a way to wrap her arms around his back and hold the back of his shirt.
Lawless barges in and my hands drop from where they were crossed over my chest. "What is he doing?" I whisper, fear sliding into me.
He punches Striker clean across the face, sending Claire back against the wall; she looks hurt. "What is he doing?" I cuss, a little louder.
"Are you going to put your dog on a leash?" Dundeu snaps, adjusting his glasses. "No. She's out of it, I'm going to let them bicker." I decide, watching Striker get back up and return the violence.
The officers don't step in, they only grab Claire and make sure she's out of the picture. "Is that your smartest decision, Carlos?" He questions, and I shake my head. "Neither of them are my official soldiers. They're both foreign assets; whatever this is about is between them."
"Very well then." His voice is quiet, uncertain and against me. Lawless looks tired. Not tired of fighting in general, just fighting him. Striker did not cooperate with him like he was intended to.
"Ay, coño," He cusses, "You fight like mierda!" Lawless spits a little bit of blood out of his mouth, I watch it splat on the shiny, clean floors with a sigh. Really? There?
"Well, I'm better than tu madre." Striker is struggling to stand back up, holding his chest. His spanish is horrible. Not his native language for sure.
Lawless is quick to take out his pistol and fire it straight into his shoulder, right where his collarbone meets. He crumples back down, coughing out a groan.
Hands bloody and gloves ruined, he grabs Claire from the guards and begins walking out the door with her. That's when I'm on the move.
I have a gun over my shoulder in case he's hostile, with Taylor and Dundeu following.
"¿Por qué ella?" He shouts at me. I've got no idea what he just said. "She's going to the army? Esta puta gets to keep her life?"
"Sebastian this was the Government's decision." I say, blood dripping from Claire's nose as she's hunched over, being dragged around like a ragdoll.
"Cállate! I know this was your idea, no soy estúpido, Carlos!" Lawless shakes her while gesturing with his hand. He clearly speaks a lot of Spanish when he's upset.
"So what if it is was? Do you have a better alternative?" I scoff, a more rhetorical question but his rage makes it serious. He holds the pistol to her head. "I do, actually."
"Officer Lawless," Dundeu starts — it's actually Commander Lawless — and I bite my lip. "President Ballard demands you stand down. Do not make this an international affair."
Lawless keeps the pistol to her head but turns the safety back on, ready to change that at any moment. "Estoy bien." He sighs, splaying some of his fingers on the gun.
"Hands off, Seb. Come on." I say, standing taller even though it doesn't do much with him. "Fine, aquí." He shoves Claire and she falls flat on her face, not looking 100%.
This will make it easier for her to transport, but annoying enough that she cannot do basic things like walk, right now.
"My ribs." She wheezes out, expressing her pain and I genuinely feel for her. I pick her up, and her blood is now all over my shirt. "Let's go. You're on the move now."
"Now?" She blurts, surprised. I assumed she knew that she would be leaving at the same time as her execution to time everything properly.
"Yes, now. It's called aligning the timeline." I joke, she drops her head more, not liking my humour.
Her feet are dragging against the floor, and we stop at the exit to the transportation sector. There's a man with a camera, he's an officer but he's an expert with propaganda. He's our key.
"Photo." I say, pulling the end of Claire's hair so her head can look at the camera. Her eyes have no life in them, nose still dripping with blood and numerous scars and scratches on her face.
I think the image would look better than a mugshot.
"Clear, go." The officer says, waving us through. She stumbles again, taking a second to cough. Her breathing isn't normal, I wonder what happened to her while I was distracted.
She hesitantly steps into the truck, dark spots appearing on her black uniform.
Blood.
"Officer!" I shout at the man who took our photos, he turns to me, hand on his head to salute me. "Yes, Sir?" He says back.
"Bring me a med-kit!" I take the handle on the back door and pull myself up into it, watching the officer sprint back out to me and hand it off.
I bang my fist on the side of the truck, three times. The engine starts up as I shut the doors, Lawless staring hard at Claire.
I'm staring at her too. "Por qué do you keep staring at her, Capitán?" He asks, I say nothing for a second. "She's bleeding."
"You care about her that much?" Lawless raises a brow, taking out his pistol and reloading it. A single bullet was used, and he's reloading. Wow.
"The government cares about her. I don't."
"That's a strong take." He comments, believing my answer was bogus. "Why do you keep staring at her, Comandante?"
"Because I know her." Lawless shakes his head; denial. I lean forward in my seat, slowly. "What do you mean you know her?"
"Although I was born and raised for some of my life in Spain, I spent plenty of time here in América," He pokes his gum with his tongue, sighing. "With her."
"I hope you are not testifying to supporting her, or being a witness when she did early-life crimes." I mutter, giving him a stink-eye.
"No. I knew her when she did those robberies, Carlos, but I was never present because I never expected that she was the kind of girl to do that." His eyes narrow at her.
I look at Claire. Her eyes are barely open but they're on him. "Believe it or not, I knew both of them. I knew Maximus too." He continues, recollecting the memory.
"Between the ages of 14 and 17, we all spent summers at the laser tag facility, all for our own reasons."
That's.. remarkably childish. And expensive. "Why? It seems like a waste."
"For me, it wasn't. Since madre was a deadbeat, and never around because of work I never had the opportunity to go out. When we were here, I had free rein to do whatever because I made amigos here."
"And Striker was one of them." I answer, filling in a gap. He nods at me. Claire still remains unresponsive, only sighing heavily.
"Max wanted to go because he wanted to be a cop, like his brother. He thought he needed to improve his aim and reaction time and assumed that stupid facility was the place for it," He pauses. "I mean, when you're 17 years old, sure. You can't really go anywhere else."
I consider the fact that he could've purchased a gun from a store and used that, but there could be legal downfalls with that.
"Why did you go?" I ask, interested. "Because he went. I had no intention of joining a police force, let alone the army at the time. It was just fun to be there because it was something to do."
I hum, surprised. Never had I expected anything in regards to these four would go back so far. We knew Claire and Raven were close since youth, but nobody would've ever predicted Striker and Lawless to be a factor.
"Is that why you took the job? Because you knew it was her?" I notice him getting fed up with my questions, because he knows it goes on record now that we've talked about it.
"No. I didn't care that it was her, I just wanted to put an end to what I failed to prevent." Lawless stands up, holding the bars on the roof of the truck to support him as he walks over to Claire.
He lifts her head up by her chin, moving it left and right to examine her. "Carlos she needs morfina. She'll need professional assistance once she gets there."
"Morphine?" I repeat, unsure if I butchered his translation right. "Sí, morfina! Ella tiene dolor!" Lawless announces, stumbling as we go over a bump.
"English is always preferred, Sebastian." I get up and grab the kit, opening it on the floor and trying to find the morphine and the needle. "Ah, càllate." He rolls his eyes, letting go of Claire as her head lulls down.
"We're about ten minutes out, Captain." The driver says into the speaker, I nod to myself, slowly putting a few grams of morphine into the needle.
Lawless takes it out of my hand and does it himself, carefully and gently. He throws the used needle back at me and I scoff, placing it back in the kit because I don't know what to do with it right now. There's no garbage.
"What the fuck did you do to me?" Claire slurs, in pain. He cleans the blood from under her nose with his thumb, wipes it on his pants. "Helped you, princesa."
"Habla inglés, imbécil." She coughs, hard. Clutching her chest. "I didn't know you knew Spanish, Claire." He laughs, ignoring the fact she's coughing up a storm.
"So she talks now, huh?" I implore, wondering if she has more than just those few words. She says nothing to me, only stares at Lawless with sadness and anger on her face.
Her eyes twitch and she grumbles, falling back towards the wall. Lawless places his hand behind her head before it smashes against the wall and her eyes are closing.
"Carlos you knew that she had uh..." He smacks his lips. "Costilla problems right?" I shake my head. "I don't know what you said."
He grunts in annoyance, "I don't know how to say it in English," Placing a hand on his chest, he pokes his ribs. "This, aquí."
"Rib problems?" I clarify. He smiles faintly. "Sí, that. You knew about those right?" I lift a brow. There was no reports of any kind. Striker never made it obvious she had any sort of injury, if I remember correctly.
"My assignment was to keep a close watch on Maximus, but I chose to watch Claire," He rambles on. "I watched the Volcano Explosion that day, I was there. I watched as a huge boulder came off the mountain, and crushed her."
I look at her, wondering how she could even survive that. Raven must've gotten her medical attention so fast.
Clearly, she isn't fully recovered.
We're arriving at the base, where President Ballard will be there, with another high-up agent who will be the Colonel of her team.
The truck stops and I leap to my feet, opening the doors and I let Lawless deal with Claire, it only seems fair.
I hop out of the truck and embrace the dusty mess of a base, it's in the desert, outside of Arcana so it's closer to Washington.
There's a team in all of their gear, must be barely a rank below the legitimate army so they look more like an Advanced SWAT Unit. They're all pointing their guns at Claire, who is being held up by Lawless.
She looks more awake now, but energy bursts through her in a panic, she's staring around at the new surroundings. "No..." Is all she mumbles out.
If she wants to back out of her decision now, President Ballard would be more than happy to find someone to execute her out here; empty desert, easy bury.
"We need medical." I announce to the soldiers by us, if they'll bother to listen to me. A tall, burly soldier is walking up to me, wearing dark camo gear as if he was just in a night mission.
I'm looking for something to call him. I see a tag, KO. I count the stars on the insignia, and feel relieved. This is the Colonel.
"Colonel." I shake his hand that he offers. I don't know what he looks like, he's got his tactical mask on still, and I can only see his eyes; lifeless and red.
"Why does she need medical?" Colonel recalls, moving towards the truck. Lawless has his pistol pressed to her back to keep her in check.
"Let's just say getting her out of prison was violent, Coronel." He answers for me, Claire testifies to that by giving a rude, deep look at the soldier.
"Initially, that's her fault," He pauses, sighs. "Not my rules though, follow me." His gear clicks as he turns around, leading the way with the three of us following behind.
"It's much busier than usual, my team and I just got back from a mission in San Antonio." Colonel heads into a facility, which immediately goes underground.
I realize I've never once been here, at the Military base, for anything police related. I try not to make a mental map of this place, because I shouldn't and I don't have time to explore. It's not a tourist attraction.
"San Antonio?" I lift a brow. Why on earth would they have any reason to go over there? "I'd advise you to not ask any questions, Captain," He reads my mind, "It's classified; out of your permission."
"Valid reason, Colonel. I'll stick with my own head-questions." I nod, closing that can of worms.
"Knockout," A girl calls. Claire is instantly mindful, and looks as recognizable as she did when she was a full out criminal. Being here at the base has heightened her senses; fear is keeping her alive.
"You called me for medical?" Colonel nods at the blonde haired girl. She's wearing a blue, zip up uniform similar to Claire's but it's visibly kinder and doesn't hold a deeper meaning other than medic.
Huh, so KO is his nickname. Strange.
"Timber Alpharo, I'll be damned." She exhales, investigating her. "It's not like I'm a celebrity." Claire mumbles back, avoiding eye contact.
The medic starts unzipping her uniform to check out her ribs beneath it, and she hates it. Claire struggles so roughly against Lawless that by the time half of her uniform is undone, Colonel is in front of her face.
"Keep your fucking hands and legs to yourself," He hisses, still masked and she despises that. Striker really did a number on her, yeah. "That's Holley. She's our medic. Treat her nice and she'll save your life."
"Yes, Sir." She says, and then spits on his foot. Colonel is silent as he steps away from her, letting Holley do her thing.
I shouldn't be looking, considering I'm not even twice her age, but if I let my guard down for one second this place might go to shits.
Holley is calmly pressing her ribs and chest, carefully asking Lawless to switch spots so she can check out her back as well. "Been putting on some muscle, Claire?" He chuckles at her.
Good, I'm glad I wasn't the only one who noticed her 'sleeper build'. "What, wish you looked as big as me?" She shoots back at him, but keeps her eyes on the Colonel who is doing the same.
Observing how she stares at different people depending on their occupation or purpose is actually a really fun game to play.
For the most part, it's 80% hatred to every person she sees. But the 20% which can be divided into a hundred other feelings, is a gamble. It's never a set emotion.
"Stitches came undone, and before she does any training of any kind, I'm going to do surgery on her ribs and put her back together, Colonel." Holley deduces, placing a hand on his shoulder before walking away.
"Thank you." He mumbles over his shoulder to her, then gets back to attention. "Training?" Claire whispers, an unsettling look on her face as Colonel zips her uniform back up. "Am I not good enough already?"
"You're not as good as you think, Alpharo," He tells her, backing off. "You were good enough to outrun the police with vehicles. But you suck when you're on the ground with nothing but yourself, and a knife."
She lifts a brow at him, huffing. "I've never had to be in that situation." He laughs, "Exactly. The police versus the army are two complete different forces; rules, law, etc. Shall I do the old fashioned apple test?" He puts an apple on her head.
"The what-what?" She blurts, Lawless holds her still and lowers himself so he's out of range. The Colonel passes a dagger to his Corporal (TA) who looks like he is always secretly following him around.
'TA' spins it in his hand for a second, before throwing it directly at her, slicing the apple in two. "Nice throw, Takeaway." Colonel walks back over to Claire and removes the apple, and the knife.
"This, this is what you could be capable of."
"A party trick?" She scoffs.
"More than that," He guffaws, unimpressed. "This is your last chance, Claire. Destroy your life, or destroy your life."
Destroy her life: the criminal side.
Destroy her life: back to the chair.
"Lets get on with it then, Colonel," Claire tells him. He looks behind her at Lawless and waves his hand. He lets go of her. "Giving me freedom?"
"Sure, I can truly test where your loyalty lies. With a nod of my head I can have you shot down immediately. Please don't test me." His warning puts a hollow expression on her face, she holds her wrists as the cuffs are taken off.
I truly wonder what is going through Claire's head right now.
"May I give you one last alert?" Colonel stops walking just before another door which I know will be a big step for her. The minute she walks through that door, she officially signs herself off.
"Please." She sighs, fed up with the disruptions. She probably doesn't want to be here any longer than she has to, and needs medical help.
"You will be arresting, killing, protecting people you know; criminal or not. Whatever we ask of you to do, you are to do it. Standard orders," Colonel explains. "It could be your mother, we could ask you to shoot your mother and you have to do it. In this line of work it's kill or be killed."
She takes another step closer to him, putting her nose in his business. "I know what you're going to ask of me, that's why I'm here. I can handle whatever you're going to throw at me no matter how bad it is, and do you know why?"
He puts his head down to meet hers, getting in her business. "Why, Claire?" She smiles at him. "Because I still get to keep my skin, and I have free rein over America now that I'm in the Military. Ballard wanted me, and he got me; just not the way he expected."
That's actually incorrect. I proposed that you were given a new task by the government if you hadn't lost your sanity and that was granted.
"Good. I hope you live up to your confidence because if not, it'll be your blood on my hands and that I have no problem with." Colonel finalizes, turning back around to the large door that's getting closer.
"Colonel," She declares, he stops moving, turns his head a little to look at her in the corner of his eye. "What did you say your name was?"
He finishes his 180 rotation and takes off his mask. I see fear unfold on her face, eyes going wide and mouth beginning to unhinge.
I cant grasp why.
"Hunter. Hunter Kovalev." His smile is, so, so wide. She physically struggles to stand, hands shaking.
"But from now and until the end of time,
you will call me Knockout."