THE HEROS OF GODOLKIN | GEN V AND THE BOYS FIC |

8

As Max and Andre set off, likely with the intent to confront and perhaps even kill Rufus, Claire found herself unconcerned with his fate. She had no personal investment in what became of him, and instead, her thoughts drifted toward something else-Indira. The way Indira had always seemed to have a vested interest in Claire had become almost comforting, in its strange and clinical way. And tonight, Claire felt that pull.

While Marie and Jordan pursued Rufus, Claire veered off, her path taking her deep into the woods where Indira had told her to meet. As she approached she felt an odd sense of calm. She reached the door and pushed it open, stepping inside with deliberate, measured strides.

Indira was already waiting, standing by a table cluttered with various medical supplies. Syringes, vials, and bandages were neatly organized, but it was the small metal tray in the center of the table that drew Claire's attention. The sterile smell of the room immediately hit her, a reminder of the clinical world that Indira represented.

"You needed me?" Claire asked, her voice steady as she stepped further into the room. There was no hint of warmth in her tone, just cold curiosity. She had become used to Indira's requests, but tonight felt different, as though something more significant loomed beneath the surface.

Indira turned to face her, a soft, almost maternal smile on her lips. "Ah, Claire. Yes, we just need a little bit of your blood, hun," she said, her voice dripping with a practiced calmness. It was the kind of tone a parent might use to soothe a child, but Claire had long since outgrown the need for comfort.

Claire raised an eyebrow, a faint flicker of suspicion crossing her face. "Blood again?" she asked, her eyes narrowing slightly. She had given blood before, many times, but tonight, something about the request felt different. "What exactly do you need it for?"

Indira let out a small, patient sigh, as if the question had been expected. She stepped closer, her hands gesturing lightly toward the table as she began to explain in the vaguest way possible. "It's for research, of course. You're unique, Claire. Your powers, your abilities-they provide us with invaluable data. We're looking at ways to better understand how you and others like you function, how your bodies adapt. Nothing to worry about." Her words were rehearsed, carefully chosen, as if she'd said them a hundred times before.

Claire remained still, studying Indira's expression, but there was nothing to glean. The woman had mastered the art of concealment, her face a mask of professional detachment. And for a moment, Claire considered pressing further, asking what kind of research exactly, what they were really looking for in her blood. But then she decided against it. It wasn't worth the energy.

"Fine," Claire finally muttered, her curiosity dulled by her own apathy. It wasn't like she could change anything, and in truth, she didn't care enough to try. She slowly moved toward the table, her fingers already tugging at her gloves, pulling them off one by one.

Cardosa, who had been lingering in the background, stepped forward now, preparing the syringe with precise, deliberate movements. His eyes darted between Indira and Claire, always the obedient subordinate, following Indira's lead. "This won't take long," he said, his voice clinical, detached, as if he were commenting on the weather.

Claire extended her arm without hesitation, her pale skin exposed under the dim lighting. Cardosa swabbed the inside of her elbow, the cold alcohol wipe sending a slight chill down her spine, though her face remained impassive. She barely flinched as the needle slid into her vein, the blood quickly filling the vial.

"Good girl," Indira said softly, watching as the vial darkened with Claire's blood. There was something unsettling about the way she said it, as if Claire were a prized lab specimen rather than a person. "You're doing a great service, Claire. You have no idea how important this is."