Anala-Salila: Fire and Water Don't Mix

Chapter Three

"We should go," Clint said when they had finished their meal and Anala-Salila had finished her story.

"Go where?" Anala-Salila asked inocently.

Clint sighed. "I'll tell you when we get there, kid," he said grimly.

The girl looked hesitant, but followed the man back out to his truck anyway. They drove away in silence. Maybe twenty minutes later, the man pulled over. There wasn't a sign of civilization anywhere in sight. Anala-Salila looked confused, but Clint didn't seem as easy to talk to anymore.

"Get out," the man ordered, stepping out of the vehicle and grabbing his bow from the back seat. He led the girl a few feet away from the truck.

"Clint?" Anala-Salila asked. "What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Stay put," he said, walking away from her. When he was roughly ten feet away, he turned back to the small girl. He took out a single arrow and notched it, slowly raising it up towards the girl. His eyes were hard, his muscles tense. But there was something deep in his eyes. He seemed to be battling his morals.

"Why?" Anala-Salila asked. "Why did you rescue me if you're just going to murder me? Why did you take me to lunch, if you're going to shoot me? What was the point?"

"Look, kid," Clint said, never relaxing, never loosening his grip on the bow string. "You're a danger to society. I'm just doing what's right."

"What's right?" Anala-Salila asked. "Or what you were told is right? Those can be two different things."

"Shut up," Clint retorted. "Please, just shut up."

"Fine," Anala-Salila answered, kneeling down, lowering her head. Clint's arrow followed her movements. "I know I'm dangerous. But I also know right from wrong. Go ahead. Do what you have to." She closed her eyes and waited for her final moments.

Clint stared at her. This was something he had never seen before. She wasn't even trying to fight. She was ready to welcome her death. She was just a kid. He had a daughter, a few years younger than her, but still, he would be murdering a kid. And she was right. He was not doing what was right. He was just following orders. And for a second, he saw his daughter kneeling before him, rather than the alien girl he'd been sent to kill. He lowered his bow, falling to his knees. Tears fell down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Clint wispered. Then, louder, he repeated, "I'm sorry, Anala-Salila."

Anala-Salila finally looked up, shocked at what she saw. She stood and walked over to the man, crouching beside him and placing her hand on his shoulder.

"I knew you wouldn't do it," she said quietly. "The way you looked at me. You have kids, don't you?"

"Yeah," Clint finally said, wiping his tears away, "I do." He looked into the girl's eyes and stood up. "Do you trust me enough to come with me?"

Anala-Salila stared at Clint for a moment, before nodding. "Where are we going?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D HQ," Clint answered. "I'm not sure what's going to happen once we get there, but I won't let them kill you."

"Promise?" Anala-Salila asked, holding out her pinkie finger.

Clint smirked a bit. "Promise," he said, intertwining their pinkie fingers. Apparently, even alien children held value in a pinkie promise.

...

"What is she doing here?" Director Nick Fury questioned as Clint led Anala-Salila into the bridge of the hellicarier.

"She's just a kid, sir," Clint answered. "I couldn't do it. She didn't even fight back."

"She is a threat to our world," Fury fumed. "She burned down the orphanage she was staying in!"

"It was an accident," Anala-Salila interupted. "I-I can't control it."

Fury glared down at the girl. "Well, then. You lead me to believe something provoked you. What was it?"

Anala-Salila seemed hesitant to share. "Um, one of the older girls, she... she came at with a knife after the others had eaten lunch. I was scared. I didn't mean to do it. Emotions trigger powers on my planet. I didn't aim at her. The fire hit the wall."

"And what about the girls?" Fury demanded. "What happened to them?"

"They made it out," Anala-Salila said.

Fury looked to be contemplating something. Finally, he asked, "And why haven't you learned to control your powers?"

"Using my powers is extremely painful, and could potentially kill me," Anala-Salila explained.

Fury looked at her for a moment, before turning to a woman nearby, saying, "Agent Hill, please escort Janie to The Cage." Looking back at Clint, he added, "I sure hope you knew what you were getting us into."

Immediately, the woman came forward and took Anala-Salila by the arm, leading her away.

"With all due respect, sir," she heard Clint saying, "her real name is Anala-Salila. It was the orphanage caretakers that named her Janie."

...

Agent Hill had led her to a large, cylindrical, glass cage.

"This wasn't built for me, was it?" Anala-Salila asked. She was only curious, but expected a stern reply from an agent.

"No," Hill said, sounding almost casual. "It was built to hold something much stronger than you."

Anala-Salila entered The Cage without fuss. It was a roomy cell for just her, but far from homey.

"Just remember," the agent told her, "if you even try to escape, we have liberty to drop you from whatever height we are at. Even for an alien, that's a long, unforgiving fall."

Anala-Salila nodded. "Completely understandable," she admitted.

The agent left without another word. Her attempt at intimidation had not worked on Anala-Salila. No harm was done, so the girl felt she should try to trust these agents. Even the one that wanted her dead had let her live. She would have to thank Clint later. He was the one they trusted, not her.

...

The following morning, the experiments started. Anala-Salila lost all trust she had reserved for these people. The painful experiments were meant to learn all they could about her race. They kept her muzzled, and her hands surrounded by metal cuffs so she couldn't hurt them. The few times the experiments triggered her powers, the fire would just curl around her hands, burning her, or water would leak out of the cuffs and onto the table she was strapped to. The burns only added to the pain in her chest. She would scream and cry, but no pity was offered. She had no one. Clint never even came to check on her.

After the expiraments, she would be returned to her cell. She was given broth and a small piece of bread to eat. More than she had had at the orphanage, and just enough to survive on. She wouldn't starve, but she wouldn't be healthy and strong, either.