Captured
The metal of the cuffs is cool against her skin. It’s a strange feeling, the coolness. She’s not used to feeling much of anything these days. She can feel the kryptonite weaken her just enough to be effective and she feels herself growing nauseous. It’s not the kryptonite itself, it’s the feeling of being as fragile as a human being that has her nauseous. She may have spent most of her adult life on Krypton with no powers but for the last 10 years she’s relied a great deal on the powers given to her by earth’s yellow sun. She feels weak. She’ll never admit it.
She feels the tightness of the grip on her arm and she looks over to her captor. Agent Danvers. Good. The Brave One made it out alive. The agent may be the enemy, at least to her cause, but Astra knows in her heart and in her head that this particular agent will never 100 percent be her enemy. Another thing she will never admit. She knows that this particular human is someone her Little One is very close to and for that reason alone she will never kill her. Harm her, maybe, if it meant escaping, but never kill her.
The grip tightens more than necessary and she bites back a wince. She will not show weakness. The next feeling that she registers is when she’s moving toward one of the armored vehicles. She feels sluggish and her feet are almost dragging on the ground. She realizes again that she has relied too heavily on her abilities as she usually glides just a fraction above the ground so her footfalls never make a sound. Now her steps, she imagines, would sound like thunder in her ears if she still had that ability. She sighs inwardly. She feels human.
She’s put into to the vehicle and she half expects to be shoved in, or to be banged against the doorframe. Neither happens. She finds herself sandwiched between Agent Danvers and some nameless agent she has never seen. The grip never leaves her arm. The ride into the desert is long and quiet. She tries to focus on a sound, any sound, and she decides that her own breathing is going to have to do since she can’t tune into the sound of a particular person’s heartbeat. Finally, they come to a stop and again the grip does not leave even when exiting into the harsh cold of the desert after sunset. Yet another feeling she is unaccustomed to. She really does not like feeling so vulnerable.
Suddenly her other arm is enveloped in a bruising grip. She turns to see her niece next to her and her heart breaks slightly. She never got to see her grow up. They walk into the facility flanked by two more armed guards. She stumbles as the door to room she is to call home for the foreseeable future opens. The effect of the kryptonite is overwhelming. Her niece stumbles back out of the room and Astra swears she could hear her fall against the wall just outside. Some chubby male human in a uniform that is hardly camouflage is standing in the room as well. She feels sick. It’s a feeling she hasn’t felt since Alura banished her to Fort Rozz. She thinks she just might vomit. Then the nausea lessens, it doesn’t fade completely, but it is not as bad anymore. The green light surrounding her glass cage fades slightly.
“General Lane. What are you doing here?” Ah so the chubby man is a General. Pathetic. He could not possibly be in any shape to lead his troops. Whatever happened to “do not send your subordinates to do something you yourself would not do” she wonders. There is no way this man has seen a battlefield in at least a decade. She could easily take him if she had the chance.
“Just making sure that the prisoner is secure, Agent Danvers.” The grip on her arm tightens and Astra winces slightly.
“Well you may leave now, General. The prisoner is secure. You forget that I have been doing this longer than you, sir.” Astra smirks at the tone. Her Brave One was always defiant. Even in the face of mortal danger. She does like this agent. After all, she defeated a Hellgrammite. Astra won’t underestimate her again.
The pompous man stiffens. “You better watch your tone, Agent.”
“I do not report to you, General. Neither does the Director. I will treat you with the respect awarded to the stars on your chest, Sir, but do not mistake my respect for your rank, for my respect for you as a person. You are here as a courtesy and you are dangerously close to overstaying your welcome. Now if you will excuse me, Sir, I have a prisoner to lock up and you are in the way.”
Astra calls upon all of her training to remain stoic when she really wants to smile. Agent Danvers is a force to be reckoned with. If she did not already respect her for defeating the Hellgrammite she certainly does now. She is a good soldier and a good person as well. That is a very important distinction.
She relaxes slightly when the human general takes his leave. She lets herself be led into her glass cage and she offers her hands. She flexes her hands and wrists she she is finally free of the cuffs. She remains still as Agent Danvers closes the glass door but remains in the room. There is no window of opportunity for an attempt of escape. She may not like the feeling of being imprisoned but she is not stupid. She did not rise up the ranks of the Kryptonian military by being reckless. She knows when to pick her battles. The irony of the sentiment is not lost on her.
“I am sorry.” Her brows crease together in confusion.
“Why do you apologize, Agent Danvers? Is it a human thing to apologize to one’s prisoners?”
“Not exactly. General Lane had no right to mess with the kryptonite emitters and set them so high. You came willingly, well as willingly as you could. You made no attempts to escape or cause harm to me or my fellow agents on the way here. There is no reason for torturing you, General. You may be an eco-terrorist, and an alien to boot, but that does not mean that you should be treated like anything less than a…living being.”
Alex remains still as she speaks to her prisoner. She knows that apologizing could be seen as a sign of weakness but it could also be seen as a sign of respect or even strength in the right circumstances. She hopes this is one of them.
“Thank you.” Both women look surprised as the words are spoken. Astra sighs inwardly. She was already expressed her gratitude, might as well finish the thought. “For lowering the kryptonite to a tolerable level.” The agent nods in response. Astra leans her forehead against the glass as soon as the other woman as left. A beat passes, then another. She finally retreats back to the stone bench in her cell. She sits crossed-legged with her face slightly upturned toward the stars, as if she could see them.
She knows the risk Agent Danvers took by apologizing. She knows it could all be a trick. If she had her super hearing she could pick up on her heartbeat or the slight hitch in her voice if this were a trick. Lure the prisoner into a false sense of security or hope and them crush them. She’s seen this tactic before, she’s fallen for it. She hopes that this Agent is not playing mind games with her. She hopes. What a dangerous word, hope.