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“Quickly, before you’re spotted.” A voice came over the speaker hitched to Clarke’s belt. She didn’t bother to respond; it would only waste the time that was now more valuable than any words she could say. Unphased by the crackles and shouts from the other side, she continued to pry open the steel door with a crowbar, working through the shackles and locks. They were so close. Clarke shouted to her team, calling them over for aid.
The Vessel was heavily protected, but they would not be deterred.
With a loud crack that echoed through the dark hall, the door gave in enough for a small person to slip through; this was her job. Everyone else on her team was tall and muscled, much too bulky to fit through the crack. They continued working on the hole after she shoved her way through the small opening, contorting her body as necessary.
It was pitch black. Clarke fumbled at her side for her flare, lighting it with a firm grip. Light bounced off the walls, displaying a long empty box with reinforced walls and an indented path leading into darkness. The flare only reached so far; she would need to continue back if she was going to find it. “What am I looking for?” She hissed into her transmitter.
“Whatever you find in there.”
Helpful. They had no idea. The Vessel was all they called it, and all her team knew was how dangerous it was. This thing, whatever it was, could never fall into the wrong hands. It needed to be held, detained, locked away forever lest anyone else discover its existence.
Anyone else that would need to be taken care of, like the others. Disposed of. Killed. Clarke hated the official language of reports and authorities, created to minimize the horror of the job. Killed; they had been killed. That was the purpose of the entire organization. Now their mission was to find this cryptic object that war had been waged over time and time again. Her mission, because it was only Clarke now alone in this crate that was quickly appearing to be more of a bunker.
Light bounced off the back wall, and Clarke could barely make out the shape of a shadow meters away, dimly lit by the flare in her hand. Grip tightened, she inched forward. The shadow gained clarity but the shape was unfamiliar. When she took another step, something fell from her belt and clattered to the floor, echoing off the metal walls. The shadowy figure moved, and Clarke’s heart jumped into her throat. Suddenly the shadowy shape grew clear; was given shape.
“I’ve found the Vessel.” She spoke softly into her transmitter, frozen, waiting for a response. None came. “It’s human.”
Silence. Static. Somehow that hadn’t been part of the briefing. They’d been sent to detain a human. Grab it, hold it, and likely imprison it for the rest of its life. The other option was death, which was honestly fairly probable now, with the discovery that it was a living being. It was easier to control something that didn't exist. Finally, her commander’s voice rang through the speaker. “Roger that. Detain it.”
Clarke closed the space between her and the Vessel, crouching down to examine its bindings. The entire head and torso was covered with a dark bag, wrists and ankles shackled to the ground. Limbs curled into a large ball of flesh and bone. She ripped the bag from the Vessel’s head, revealing a man underneath. His eyes blinked slowly, brow furrowed in pain and disorientation. It had been a long journey, bound in this crate. He would be very weak.
It made her sick now, thinking about that. He was a human. They were hunting a human.
“I’m going to get you out of here.” He gazed up at her with bleary eyes, clearly not registering what she said. Did he even speak English? With good reason, he seemed extremely disoriented, swaying slightly as if he was at sea. “Can you move?” Clarke reached down to help him up, then dropped her hands to his shackles, remembering he was constrained. The locks weren’t hard to pick; it took her a matter of minutes to break them all free. His wrists were heavily scabbed; he winced when the metal bumped against them.
When the last bond fell to the ground, the Vessel was suddenly on top of Clarke, holding her down with a force she’d never experienced. It took her off guard; she shouted and fought against him without success. Clarke was strong; she’d surpassed the majority of her teammates during training and even those colossally stronger than her were no match for her speed and superior tactics.
Against this man, she could do nothing. There was no give in his grip; she was completely at his mercy. “I released you,” she said darkly, as if that meant anything to him. That had been a mistake. Her commander would not be pleased. A pair of handcuffs rested at her waist, completely forgotten. Now it was too late to use them. Now she was trapped.
“Thank you, Princess,” he said in a low, gruff voice. It sounded weak and rough, likely from recent lack of use. “But I will not be at their mercy again. You understand.” He grinned and shifted his weight, but maintained the same level of complete control. Clarke hissed, pushing against his weight to no avail. Her transmitter had fallen to the ground; she couldn’t call for backup. His piercing eyes watched her curiously as she shifted the mere inches she could. This seemed to amuse him; she glared in response.
“We would keep you safe.”
“I will keep myself safe, thank you.” A loud bang sounded from the opening, echoing through the chamber; they both turned their heads, startled. Clarke’s eyes darted around desperately, considering how to keep him on top of her until backup came.
He seemed to have a different idea. A smirk played on his lips, and he shook the stray locks of wavy hair out of his eyes. “Well, I guess this is it, Princess.”
“That’s not my name,” Clarke growled through clenched teeth. Keep him interested; keep him distracted.
The Vessel chuckled. “Well, I thought that was better than ‘woman’ and I assumed an agent wouldn’t offer such sensitive intel willingly.”
“My name is of no use to you. It has no real significance.” That was true; nobody on her team knew her real name. After training it was completely disregarded.
“Interesting. Then you won’t mind telling.” He grinned, and she glanced toward the other end of the compartment. That didn’t go unnoticed. Shit. Time was up.
“Clarke. My name is Clarke.”
He nodded, pressing harder into her. His face was inches from hers. “Nice to meet you Clarke. I’m Bellamy Blake, and I’m afraid our time is up.” Before she could react, he pulled back and pounded his head against hers. There was a throbbing pain, and everything went black. The last thing she saw was that playful smirk beneath those piercing eyes.