Chapter 7: "I Know Mon-El is Alive"
###TRIGGER WARNING - TORTURE/DRUGGING###
Kara coughs violently, water droplets trickling down her chin, as her body convulses from the torment of waterboarding. Her voice, weak and shaky, barely escapes her trembling lips. "Who are you?" a demanding voice pierces through the dimly lit room.
"I-I'm n-no one," Kara struggles to respond between coughs and quivers. Her eyes widen in fear as the menacing figures move to place the wet towel over her face, causing her to squirm in a desperate attempt to evade the impending suffocation. A second deluge of water cascades over her, triggering another violent coughing fit as her lungs struggle to expel the invasive liquid. Her head drops, the sting of water in her nose intensifying as it escapes.
The masked captors abandon the dripping towel and retrieve a sinister-looking machine, undoubtedly meant for further torment. One of them roughly lifts her shirt and presses the saturated fabric against her abdomen. Kara's eyes widen, and a frantic plea escapes her lips. "No! No! Wait!" Her body writhes in anticipation as she feels the surge of electricity course through her, jolting her frail frame.
"I-I'm a-a r-re-reporter!" Kara's voice trembles as she struggles to make them understand. "I-I wa-was looking f-for I-Izzy," she manages to stammer, her body slumping forward, barely upheld by the rope that suspends her from the wrists.
The interrogator's voice sharpens with menace, threatening another round of agony. "Who else knows you're looking for her?"
"N-No one! I-I w-wasn't s-supposed t-to," Kara reveals, a hint of truth in her words. Snapper, her boss, believed she was investigating the upcoming mayoral election, not digging into Izzy's disappearance.
"E-Every o-one t-thinks she ran away," Kara stammers, her resolve unwavering despite the torment she's endured. The captors, satisfied with her response, finally relent. She bows her head, exhaustion taking hold as relief washes over her.
The two men unceremoniously drag her back into the dank cell where Izzy awaits, tossing her in and slamming the door shut, its resounding thud echoing through the room. Kara grunts upon impact.
"Kara!" Izzy's voice quivers with concern as she quickly crawls over to her side. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?"
Kara groans softly as she flips onto her stomach and manages to sit up. "T-They," she begins, her voice hoarse and weak. "They wanted information." She leans her head against the cold, unforgiving wall and turns to face Izzy. "They know I'm here for you."
Izzy's frown deepens, her eyes filled with fear. "Kara, I'm scared," the girl admits vulnerably.
Kara nods in understanding, her heart aching for the young girl's suffering. She reaches out and gently takes Izzy's hand, offering her a reassuring grip. "H-how long have you been in here, Izzy?" Kara whispers softly, her concern evident.
Izzy furrows her brow, struggling to recall the passage of time. Finally, she shrugs with uncertainty. "I-I lost track of time... but I've seen them take people and never bring them back," she admits with a gulp, her voice quivering. "I thought they were going to do that to you."
Determination wells up within Kara as she squeezes Izzy's hand reassuringly. "I-I won't let that happen to either of us," she promises, her resolve unwavering. Deep down, she hopes that Barry and Winn will find them in time, before Izzy becomes the next victim to vanish into the unknown.
Dear Kara,
I've been struggling with what should be my first entry. There's just so much I want to say, so much that I still haven't told you after all this time. I just don't know how to start or when to start. But, I met a friend. Her name is Kelly; she's a psychologist. She told me to just write, and that it doesn't matter if it doesn't come out all coherent. She said it will eventually, but it just helps to start. But, let's start with something easy. Something you've probably been asking yourself for almost 5 months: 'what happened?':
"Alright y'all, I'm off for the day." Mon-El pulls out the trash from the bin to take it out back.
"Kick their asses!" Nick yells in support, referring to game night.
Mon-El laughs, and leaves the bar through the back door, waving at him and some locals. He throws the trash into the bin when all of a sudden, he hears a noise. His head jerks in the direction of the sounds, and he calls out, "Hello?"
Anxiety gnaws at him as more noises follow. He worries someone might be in danger, so he sprints in the direction of the commotion. That's when he stumbles upon the grim scene—two men attempting to force a terrified blonde girl into a van.
"Hey!" Mon-El's voice is a thunderclap this time as he charges toward the hooded figures at full tilt. In a desperate bid to protect the girl, he manages to yank one of the kidnappers away. But just as victory seems within reach, a third assailant emerges from the driver's seat and delivers a savage blow to the back of Mon-El's head.
Darkness descends swiftly.
The next time Mon-El regains consciousness, his head throbs relentlessly, and he struggles to make sense of his surroundings. Amidst this sensory overload, voices reach his ears, their cadence unfamiliar, yet there's an unsettling quality to them. His mind, mired in the confusion of his ordeal, struggles to comprehend their meaning.
Before he can decipher their words, a deafening gunshot reverberates through the air, followed by a sickening thud. The acrid scent of gunpowder lingers in the dimly lit space. A woman's voice, edged with menace and carrying an unsettling calmness, utters the chilling words, "get rid of him." Mon-El surmises that the woman is likely referring to him, and a shiver of fear courses through his battered body.
Summoning every ounce of his strength, he feigns unconsciousness, waiting for the perfect moment. When he hears the ominous sound of the gun being cocked once more, he seizes the opportunity, springing into action.
Mon-El catches his would-be executioner off guard, employing every ounce of his training to overpower the figure. He escapes to his feet and sprints toward the beckoning light, but his desperate bid for freedom is thwarted as he's cornered and brutally knocked. Everything ebbs away as he succumbs once more to the abyss, the cacophony of whistling noise and distant voices fading into oblivion.
The third awakening is a crueler onslaught to Mon-El's senses. Pain engulfs every fiber of his being, and he struggles to pry open his heavy eyelids. The world swims in a hazy blur of white, and a shrill, high-pitched whistle pierces his ears. He gasps for air, his chest constricting as if crushed in a vise. Panic threatens to overwhelm him as he realizes the immobility of his restraints. Mon-El's futile attempts to break free leave him gasping for breath, his vision narrowing to a pinprick.
"Mon-El," a commanding voice calls his name, and he turns his head to the source. Recognition sparks in his foggy mind as he sees a familiar face approaching the foot of his bed. A raspy whisper escapes his parched lips, "J-John..." The raspy quality of his voice betrays his suffering.
"Yes," John replies tersely, a hint of compassion in his eyes. He reaches for a dial, gradually increasing the room's illumination. Mon-El squints against the light, piecing together that he's not in a hospital. Confusion reigns as he struggles to comprehend his surroundings, the truth lurking just beyond his grasp.
"W-What happened?" Mon-El manages to croak, his voice betraying his fear and confusion. He feels vulnerable and exposed, like a trapped animal desperately seeking an escape. John's presence is a lifeline in this nightmare, and Mon-El clings to the hope that he might finally uncover the truth about his ordeal.
John walks closer to Mon-El, his footsteps echoing ominously in the room. The air is thick with tension, and the silence seems to stretch on endlessly. Mon-El watches John's every move, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and anticipation. The room's dull hum of machinery only adds to his growing anxiety.
"How well do you remember what happened?" John's voice is soft but laced with concern. His eyes, usually filled with confidence, now reflect the gravity of the situation. Mon-El's mind feels like a jumbled puzzle, the pieces scattered and elusive. He attempts to recall the events, but it's like grasping at mist.
Mon-El's frustration mounts with each fading memory. He's caught in a whirlwind of emotions, from the burning anger at his helplessness to the bone-deep fear of the unknown. Everything is a blur, a nightmarish sequence of pain and confusion.
"Well," John starts, his voice steady but compassionate, "You accidentally walked right into an ongoing FBI investigation on Lilian Luthor." The weight of those words settles heavily on Mon-El. Fear, questions, and a sense of being caught in something much larger than himself wash over him, leaving him with a sinking feeling of dread. His heart races as he realizes that his life has taken a dark and dangerous turn, and the uncertainty of what lies ahead grips him like a vice.
Lena's office hums with the soft cadence of typing keys as she diligently reviews some reports on her computer. Her sharp focus is interrupted when one of her techs, a young woman, enters her office with a palpable sense of nervousness. Lena senses that something isn't quite right.
"Ms. Luthor?" The tech's voice quivers slightly as she approaches Lena's desk, her laptop clutched tightly in her hands. Lena sets aside her work and intertwines her fingers, a subtle signal for the tech to continue.
"Uh... t-there was a s-security breach," the tech stammers, her fingers tapping anxiously on the laptop's casing. She places the device in front of Lena, who leans forward with keen interest.
"At first, we didn't detect it because whoever it was used Jack's pass," the tech explains, her eyes darting nervously around the room. "And they seem to have found their way easy enough. But they didn't know about our new Keystroke Dynamics set up for passwords. It doesn't match Jack's usual."
Lena absorbs the information, her mind racing with possibilities. The security breach, the unauthorized access using Jack's credentials, and the mention of a mysterious device send alarm bells ringing in her head. She nods thoughtfully at the tech's report.
"The logs also show that there might have been a device attached briefly," the tech adds, her voice shaky. "We've sent Jack an email, but he hasn't responded yet."
Lena processes this revelation. Without wasting any time, she issues a directive to the tech, her tone unwavering. "Go to the security team and ask them to investigate who was in the building at those specific timestamps."
With a sense of urgency, Lena rises from her office chair and heads toward the elevator. She taps her communicator, asking James to use his contacts at Lord Tech to ensure there hasn't been a move against LCorp. Lena's mind is spinning with possibilities, and she's determined to get to the bottom of this.
Upon arriving at Jack's floor, Lena knocks on his office door. "Hello Jack."
The moment he sees her, his face lights up, and he greets her warmly. Lena takes a seat in front of his desk, her mind racing with suspicions. She can't trust Jack completely, not when there's a security breach involving his credentials.
"How about lunch?" Lena suggests, masking her true intentions with a friendly smile. She knows Jack still harbors feelings for her, and she intends to use that to her advantage.
Jack appears pleasantly surprised by the offer. "Oh uh, will James be joining us?" he asks.
Lena shakes her head, her smile remaining intact. "James has business to attend to. This would just be you and me." Lena throws another smile, this time laced with feigned sincerity. "I've been so busy with marketing our new tech that I've neglected my friends."
Jack seems eager at the prospect. "Now is perfect," he agrees, rising from his seat, picking up his jacket, and shutting down his computer monitor. Lena stands gracefully, and Jack opens the door for her as they prepare to leave for lunch.
Alex stands amidst her fellow agents, her nerves bubbling just beneath the surface. She's about to play her hand, and she knows it's a dangerous game. Through clenched teeth, she addresses her supervisor, John, her eyes darting briefly to ensure no prying ears are lurking nearby.
"I know Mon-El is alive," she asserts, her voice firm but controlled. To her surprise, John's typically stoic demeanor falters for a moment, a reaction she hadn't anticipated.
The urgency in his voice is palpable as he instructs, "Come with me," in a hushed yet commanding tone.
Alex hesitates briefly, seeking clarification in the midst of her shock. "He's alive?" she queries, her disbelief evident. Winn and Barry had scoured servers for any trace of Mon-El, and all they found were heavily redacted documents. This was a risky gambit, something she believed was outrageous, but now she isn't so sure.
"Keep your voice down, Agent Danvers," John chides her, his stern expression returning. He guides her swiftly into his office, locking the door behind them and activating a white noise machine to safeguard their conversation. Leading her to a concealed compartment in his office, John demands an explanation, concern etched across his features. Mon-El's cover might be compromised, and that could put him in grave danger.
Alex begins to unravel the tangled web of her thoughts. "I wasn't sure. I-I saw him f-flat line," she admits, her voice trembling. "I just wondered if, because you have something to do with Mon-El's motorcycle, maybe Kara wasn't wrong..." She lets the thought hang, unable to articulate her disbelief. John, however, grows increasingly impatient.
"And how did Kara figure out all of this? I thought you said she was doing better," he grumbles, crossing his arms in annoyance.
Alex defends herself vigorously, her frustration apparent. "I didn't know she was investigating any of this! I only realized something was up when she tried to dig up Mon-El's grave..." She raises her voice, exasperation evident. "John, the fact of the matter is that I know. And Kara was up to something, and now she's missing."
John's eyes widen in genuine concern at the mention of Kara's disappearance. "Missing?" he echoes, disbelief in his tone. Alex can't help but notice his growing unease.
"Yes. She went to some clinic, and now she's gone. And there's no trace of her or whoever took her," Alex states, her worry now evident. "John, we need to find her. It's already been 3 days." She attempts to maintain a professional tone, but her concern shines through.
John takes a deep breath and rubs his temples, clearly conflicted. "You're asking me to compromise my asset," he counters, his voice softening. "Would Kara ask me to do this if she knew it could get Mon-El killed?" He pleads with Alex, trying to make her see the bigger picture.
Alex knows John well, and she knows that he cares deeply for Kara and her. She appeals to his paternal instincts, hoping to sway his decision. "John, this is Kara we're talking about!" she implores, her eyes locking onto his.
Their shared history, John's long-standing connection with her family, and her genuine concern for her sister all weigh on him. After a tense pause, John nods begrudgingly. "Okay," he concedes. "But we're going to do this my way."
Alex agrees, but she has one final question. "Wait... do you know where Kara is?" she asks, her tone incredulous.
John sighs, his eyes revealing that he has his suspicions. "No, I don't know where she is," he admits. "But I do have my suspicions. If I'm right, we will need a detailed plan of attack. So, give me your word that you're going to wait until my signal."
Alex hesitates for a moment, her resolve wavering. However, when she meets John's stern gaze, she reluctantly agrees—at least to his face. Her fierce determination to find Kara drives her to enlist Winn and Barry's help, as they remain at CatCo after their workdays, determined to uncover any clues about Kara's whereabouts. They can't afford any more missteps.
Kara and Izzy find themselves left alone for most of the weekend, their only company being the scant meals pushed through a narrow opening in their cell door. Kara's sense of time has blurred, as they're fed only once or twice a day.
The temporary peace shatters when the usual mealtime arrives. Kara is forcibly dragged from the cell, her protests echoing through dimly lit corridors, startling Izzy from her restless slumber.
Panic seizes Kara as they thrust her into a foreboding, dark room. Eerie figures, clad in surgical-like robes, surround her, sending shivers down her spine. She fights with every ounce of strength she possesses when one of them approaches, wielding a menacing needle. But her struggles prove futile as she's overpowered, forcibly restrained, and injected with a mysterious liquid that plunges her into disorienting drowsiness.
Hours later, Kara regains consciousness, lying beside Izzy with their meal trays before them. However, her appetite has vanished, replaced by overwhelming nausea. Disoriented and groggy, she turns to Izzy, her voice trembling as she implores her for answers.
Izzy, too, is in the dark, her knowledge limited to rumors circulating among their captors. Whispers of tracking devices and preparations for an unknown fate hang in the air, casting a veil of dread over the cell.
Kara struggles to piece together her memories, but they elude her, leaving her with a gnawing sense of dread. She can't shake the feeling of disgust, not knowing what horrors they've subjected both her and Izzy to.
Weakness courses through her, and she stumbles towards a makeshift toilet, retching uncontrollably. Izzy rushes to her side, offering support as Kara empties the contents of her stomach.
When the retching finally ceases, Kara wipes her mouth and turns to Izzy, her eyes filled with determination. She apologizes for her weakness and vows once again that she will find a way to get them both out of this nightmare, no matter the cost.
During the final stretch of the workday, Mon-El receives an unexpected visit from Lena. She attempts to delve subtly into his personal life, using the pretext that she's been a neglectful boss for never inquiring about it before.
Mon-El's heart quickens a little. This line of questioning sends a wave of nervousness coursing through Mon-El, though he can't quite pinpoint why. "Oh, there's not much to tell," he stammers, trying to play it cool. "I've led a pretty quiet life. Work, a few friends at LCorp, and then there's... Clara."
His voice wavers slightly when he mentions "Clara." He instantly regrets the slip. Why did he mention anyone beyond the safe confines of LCorp? He can feel Lena's penetrating gaze on him.
Lena, on her part, seems to accept this response, though Mon-El isn't quite sure. Her intense focus on him leaves him somewhat uneasy.
For Lena, trust is a commodity she doesn't give out easily. Following James' tip that no Lord Tech spies have infiltrated LCorp, her security team worked to uncover external footage showing Mon-El heading toward LCorp during an unusually late hour. While there's no concrete evidence that he was the one who entered, Lena can't fathom any other reason for his late-night visit.
Her suspicions grew stronger, especially after her attempts to contact his references yield nothing but busy signals. Online research into the company listed on his resume offers no clarity, with vague information about their focus and personnel. The thought that "Mike" might be a spy, possibly yet another pawn in her mother's game, takes root.
Lena decides to take Mon-El out for a work-related dinner, hoping to draw more information from him and uncover any hints about his true affiliation. However, Mon-El proves to be a skilled conversationalist, providing responses to her probing questions that remain frustratingly vague.
As their conversation concludes, Lena finds herself left with no choice but to go directly to the source of her suspicions.
"Who is Roulette?" Alex inquires, peering over Winn's shoulder at his computer screen. Her impatience is palpable as she awaits an answer.
Barry takes the lead in responding, his fingers dancing across the keyboard as he explains, "She's someone who's been on the run. You might remember, Alex, she ran an underground fight club last year that Maggie managed to bust. But Roulette managed to slip through the cracks. We got more intel on her thanks to Megann, who was actually fought in the fight club. But she could only give us Roulette's first name... Veronica."
Winn chimes in, picking up where Barry left off. "We managed to connect the dots further. Her full name is Veronica Sinclair, and her father is a senator who has had dealings with the Luthors. Interestingly, she also attended boarding school with Lena Luthor."
Alex furrows her brow, trying to piece together the significance of this information. She grows increasingly frustrated with the back-and-forth exchange, itching for a clear connection to Kara. "And?" she prompts, her patience waning.
Winn continues, filling in the missing details. "Well, from the marked documents, we discovered there's an ongoing but incredibly covert FBI investigation into Lilian Luthor, the former CEO of LCorp."
Alex struggles to see how all this connects to Kara. She presses for more information, her irritation simmering just beneath the surface. "But what does any of this have to do with Kara?"
Winn taps away at his keyboard, pulling up additional information to clarify the situation. "John only has a small team working on this, and one of them isn't even a recognized agent," he explains. "We couldn't find any records of their existence prior to a few months ago when their name magically appeared on several bogus tech company websites."
Barry interjects, picking up the thread. "They go by the name...
"Mike Matthews?"
Mon-El hears his own name being spoken just as he's texting John about Lena's recent behavior. He's walking back to his apartment, his mind occupied with thoughts about his dinner with his boss. A sense of worry gnaws at him, fueled by the suspicion that Lena might be harboring doubts about his "Mike" persona.
As he turns around to face the person who uttered his name, he's met with a sudden and overpowering smell of chloroform. Panic sets in as Mon-El realizes that someone has been following him all the way home, and now they've caught him off guard. In his dazed state, he fumbles and drops his phone to the ground, the screen cracking as it makes contact with the pavement.
