The Eternal Avenger

Chapter Eight: Revelations

(Claray's POV)

Barton and I had been sitting across from each other staring for what felt like hours. He finally leaned forward in his chair, clearing his throat. "Ms. Ridel," he started. I watched him closely, glancing occasionally over his shoulder to the mirror facing me, knowing that Natasha was there. "Do you want to explain what it was that we saw last night?" I took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult.

"Aliens are not the only creatures that exist. Some of us are much closer to home than outer space." I couldn't help the sarcasm, it was second nature, and it became worse when I was under stress. I believed this qualified as stress.

"And you are?" He raised his eyebrows. He really was going to make me say it. At least at this point, I knew what was expected, and was able to maintain some of my secrets.

"I'm a werewolf." I answered honestly. He seemed surprised by my honesty, but not with my answer.

"I think we kind of put that together." I looked at him closely. He was smirking.

"You asked." I shrugged my shoulders. "Anything else?" He frowned, glancing over his shoulder towards the mirror.

"Ms. Ridel, what exactly does being a werewolf entail?" His eyes bore through me, watching me. I shifted slightly in my seat.

"I am able to turn into a wolf, Agent Barton." I smirked, satisfied, as he rolled his eyes. Agent Hill approached the table, sitting in the chair beside Agent Barton, looking at me intently.

"Cooperation will increase your chances of getting out of here, Claray." I glared at her.

"You may know some things about me, Agent Hill," I began, leaning towards her, "but you do not know me well enough to call me by my first name, especially since I don't know either of yours." Expecting an outburst, I was surprised when Agent Barton raised his hand, waving Agent Hill off.

"Point taken, Ms. Ridel." His tone was gentle, pacifying but not condescending. "Let's assume that all I know about werewolves is from movies and television." I nodded, following easily. "How wrong am I about you?" He offered a smile, which I begrudgingly returned involuntarily.

"The answer is very," I admitted.

"Okay." Now we were getting somewhere. He leaned his arms on the table separating us, tenting his fingertips together. "Can I go through what I know, and you can correct me as applicable?" I nodded. As painstaking as this may be, it would be easier this way than having to do a monologue that chronicled my abilities. "When were you turned?"

"I wasn't, I was born a werewolf." This clearly took him by surprise.

"Can you turn other people into werewolves?" His questions seemed to be coming from a checklist that he stored in his head.

"Yes, but I won't." He cocked his head slightly.

"You won't turn people ever, or you won't do it anymore?" At least he was being thorough, and as much as this little interview was anxiety producing and tedious, I couldn't blame him for wanting clarity, especially if I wanted to increase my chances of getting out of here.

"I have never turned another werewolf." I answered honestly.

"Why not?" He was pushing now.

"I'm not very parental," I spat out. I was losing my patience. I took a deep breath, trying to re-ground myself and help myself out of this position.

"Do you only turn into the wolf during the full moon?" I allowed myself to relax a little bit. This, at least, was familiar and relatively safe ground.