Intuition

Clark had been in a cell in the secured, lowest floor of StarLight headquarters for one night. During this time, he’d contemplated his actions. Clark still felt that he had done the right thing.

He had been corresponding with Candor for five years and he knew his character. In his mind, there was no way Bastian and Candor were the same person. It was simply impossible. Clark thought himself too intelligent to be fooled in such a way.

Flint spent the night running behind the building. He felt it again. That illusive pulling sensation in his chest. It felt stronger at times than it ever had and during those times, he darted in its direction. Still, when it faded away... It completely vanished.

It was midmorning after his arrest, when the door to Clark’s holding cell slid open. Elijah inspected the space, noting that it looked just as he remembered it. The holding cells were concrete rooms in the sub-basement. They all measured ten feet in width by ten feet in length. The walls were white and the floors were gray.

The prisoners’ hands were shackled together using a chain that kept them within five inches of each other. The same was done to the feet. Then they were chained to the wall by the bed, using a metal collar. That chain was four feet long. This was enough to lay on the cot comfortably and reach the metal toilet and sink. They were attached to the same wall as the cot.

No matter how many times Elijah had been to visit a prisoner in these rooms, he’d never imagined someday Clark would be the one chained, wearing a collar used to harness him to the cold concrete wall. Elijah and Clark met gazes, exchanging looks of conviction.

“This is your interrogation. If you feel that it’s necessary for me take you to the room where we normally conduct these things, that’s what I’ll do.” Elijah stated in a flat tone.

“Here is fine.” The ex-elder grunted.

His friend examined him. His thinning, gray hair was disheveled and pushed back. Medics had treated his wounds upon intake into the facility. He wore the standard, khaki pants and white t-shirt given to all inmates. His leg was in a cast and reportedly had a severe fracture which would take five days to heal. Not to mention the sling on his left arm.

Elijah grabbed the metal folding chair from behind the door and opened it, sitting just out of Clark’s reach. He scratched the bandage on his head as he observed Elijah carefully. Each one was trying to assess the other.

“I read the letter Bastian sent you. I have some questions. And I expect honest answers.” Elijah pulled the document from his suit jacket’s inner pocket.

“I already told you, Candor isn’t the Anderson boy. You’re wrong about that.” Clark replied firmly.

“Ignorance.” He opened the letter. “Had you told this ‘Candor’ about our security movements on the night of my son’s coronation as Alpha?”

“Candor was simply mapping the way we plan for large events. He wanted to understand our strategy in where and when our warriors were stationed.” He rolled his eyes.

“No! That’s the first time Bastian gained access to Green Tree!” Elijah growled. “He killed our warriors! Paralyzed Joshua! Kidnapped Eve. Then he injured her. Remember?!”

“A coincidence! I’d taught him about many of our procedures! This was just one instance.” Clark replied in a gruff, stubborn tone.

“Alright. How about when Bastian was here, in one of these cells? Did Candor still write to you? Or did he mysterious disappear?” He asked with obvious frustration. His patience was running out.

“I-” The old man looked like he was sorting through his memories, connecting the dots.

“Or after we upped security after the coronation? Did you tell ‘Candor’?” Elijah gritted his teeth.

Clark nodded gravely.

“That’s when Bastian was captured! IN our territory. Understand now?!” He snarled.

The prisoner looked at the shackles around his wrists. He was contemplating everything he was being told. Clark shocked himself when he looked back.

The information he’d give Candor had been used by Bastian, seemingly time and again. When the ex-elder looked at his friend again, his eyes had hardened. He was resolute.

“Perhaps, Elijah. Perhaps Candor is in league with the Anderson boy. They could even be one in the same. I admit that much.” Clark spoke in a cold, flat tone. “However, everything I did... I did for StarLight.”

Elijah stood. He took several deep breaths, as if he were containing himself. Clark had no time to prepare for the moment his long time friend picked up the metal chair he once sat on. Elijah grabbed the back and lifted it.

It slammed into the old man’s head, bending the metal. Blood began to flow freely from the bandage, which had been partially knocked off. Elijah hit him again and again. He stopped only when the leg on the front left side broke away.

Elijah growled and tossed the mangled metal remanence of the chair. He was furious but the pain in his leg and lower back distracted him. Clark was panting and groaning. Elijah walked back to the door and grabbed another metal chair. He unfolded it and placed it just out of the prisoner’s reach.

Elijah examined him as he tried to control his breath. Blood covered the old man’s exhausted face. His nose was broken and the crown of his head had been torn. Bruises were coming up on his face, his eyes were swelling as well.

“Sit. Up.” Elijah grunted as he sat. “You look pathetic.”

Clark struggled back to a sitting position, heaving his breaths. He leaned on the wall behind the, now bloody, cot. The ex-elder wiped the blood from his eyes before trying to focus on Elijah.

“This wasn’t for StarLight. This was a vendetta. A personal one. Don’t hide behind your duties. It’s cowardly.” The once-Alpha stated firmly.

“I will not agree to that.” Clark coughed after answering.

“I never asked you to agree and I don’t need you too. It’s obvious. What I need from you is information on this.” He lifted the letter from the ground.

“What about it? I haven’t even read it.” He grunted.

“Well, you’re about to.” Elijah replied.