There will be a lot of references to Lovecraft's "The Dunwich Horror," and a reference to Lovecraft's "Shadow over Innsmouth," in this.

Also, warnings for references to bigotry against other peoples' religions and cultures.

Chapter 3

The Mountain Men

The person in the hazmat suit, gestured for Clarke to come over.

Clarke looked the figure over. She had no idea what was going on. There were people in the mountain?

Why was this person wearing that suit?

The person in the suit then spoke, startling the girl.

The figure said, the voice sounding like a man's voice, "Girl! It's alright! You can come over! We're not going to hurt you! But you look like you need help!"

Clarke hesitated.

Well, she did need help. But who was "we?" This guy had said, "we," right?

The man then yelled, gesturing back into the mountain, "We have a whole community down here! You'll be safer here then out there!"

Clarke stared at the man. What did he mean by that?

Almost as if to prove the man's point? An arrow came flying out from the woods, firing right at Clarke.

"Look out!" The man in the hazmat suit cried and Clarke, while not seeing the arrow coming in her direction, heard something whistling and coming closer to her.

Clarke had always had better hearing, and better senses in general, than most human beings.

She hadn't understood it, and when she had brought it up to her mom, her mom would look uncomfortable.

Her dad, though, as he always did, told her that when she had a unique quality, she should treasure it, like anyone that had a unique trait.

Her father had always been more encouraging than her mother.

The point was? Clarke heard that arrow whistling as it descended in her direction, so, when she heard the whistling noise, she jumped right out of the way, just as the arrow shot past her-and it would have hit her, had she not moved out of the way, right there and then.

The arrow slammed into the tree to Clarke's right.

Clarke gasped, staring at the arrow sticking out of the tree. An arrow which would have shot right through her.

She looked in the direction of where the arrow had come from.

Again, her senses were much better than anyone else's, so, she was able to see two humanoid figures in the trees, sliding down, wearing what looked like brown furs. And they were holding weapons like bows, arrows and swords.

Clarke's eyes widened as she stared at them.

There were more people here than she had thought.

And why were they firing arrows at her? She was a kid!

Even on the Ark, where one crime could get you executed, including if you were a child, and if that was the case, you'd be locked up in the skybox till you were of age to be floated, you didn't try to outright kill a child.

"Run!" The man yelled from the mountain's entrance, "Run over here and we'll keep you safe!"

Clarke looked at the hazmat suited man, then looked back at the two Grounders that were climbing down the tree after her.

She made her choice.

She had no idea if the man in the hazmat suit could be trusted, but other people that were not part of the man with the hazmat suit's people, were trying to kill her, clearly. Which meant that she couldn't just stand here and wait for them to get to her and gut her.

So, Clarke ran, ran right to the man with the hazmat suit on.

She reached him and he gestured for her to inside the mountain, which she did, even if some part of her had no idea if this man could be trusted or not, and watched as the man followed her, and watched him press a button next to the opened door and watched as the doors closed, when they both were inside the mountain.

Clarke looked through the crack between the doors, and saw the two other Grounders running at the door, and she let out a gasp of relief, as the doors were closed, keeping them safe from any attacks from the Grounders with the furs and the weapons.

Safe-she was safe, she thought to herself.

At least, for now.

She then looked at the hazmat suited man. "Who were they? Who are you?" She added, feeling mildly embarrassed, knowing that you weren't supposed to speak to adults like that, unless they did something wrong, like what Thelonius Jaha and that horrible guard, Bellamy Blake had done.

"Sorry, sir," she added, "I know I'm a stranger. But I'm just here to see if it's safe for my people to come down to the ground, you see. Our home is dying. And we're trying to find a safe place to live."

"I see," The man with the hazmat suit said, nodding and Clarke observed his face through the plastic window of the suit's mask.

The man looked somewhat elderly, with a head of white hair. He looked rather gentle, as well.

"Might I ask what your name is?" He asked, "My name is Dante Wallace."

Clarke nodded. Yes, she understood that her knowing his name didn't mean that she had any advantage here, and that him giving her his name, was a way of gaining her trust, but still, she was an outsider, and it wasn't right for her not to tell this person her name and for her to know his name.

"My name's Clarke Griffin," she said.

The man nodded again, and said, "Alright. I'm going to go to the decontamination zone, be cleaned off, and you will be as well."

At Clarke's confused expression, Dante sighed, "I'm sorry, but our people have an immune system that will fail when exposed to the outside air. We were driven underground a century ago by the ancestors of the people you just saw. And we were never exposed to the outside world again. Our immune systems became flawed. Anything from the outside world could kill us. Not to mention contact with anyone who has been in the outside world."

Clarke's eyes widened in realization.

"So," she said nervously, stepping back from the man, even if he had a hazmat suit on, "Like me?"

Dante nodded. "Yes," he said sadly, "Like you, Clarke. That's why we both need to go to the decontamination zone. To be washed off. I hope you understand."

Clarke nodded. "Okay," she said, "I'll wash off."

If the things she had been exposed to in the outside world might kill the people in this mountain? Then she would have to wash herself off.

Dante, taking Clarke's words as permission, began walking down the hall and Clarke followed him.

"Those men," she said, "Who were they? The men outside, I mean?"

"Outsiders," Dante said, sounding disturbed as he thought of the two Grounders outside the mountain, "From a tribe in this area. They call themselves the 'Trikru.' There are several other tribes, just as bad as them. They are descendants of those that drove us into the mountain and made us stay there, till our immune systems became weak."

Clarke stared at Dante, unable to help but feel for him and his people.

She had heard of things like this. Bigotry. People that treated another group as if that other group were animals.

How could people treat each other that way?

"Is there a way of stopping them?" Clarke asked.

"Yes," Dante said, "But there's a problem. We have missiles we can use to wipe the entire population of the tribes out. At least those tribes that are within range. But that would mean genocide."

Clarke nodded. Right. Of course. Genocide. Which was the destruction of an entire race of people.

Still, it sounded more like it would be self-defense, right? But she didn't ask more questions about that.

It would be another several months, until she learned exactly why the Mountain Men didn't use their missiles to wipe out the tribes. And no, the reason for the Mountain Men not doing it, wasn't because genocide was morally wrong. She would find that out later.

At the moment, Dante led Clarke to a location where there were several guards waiting, all of which looked startled when they saw Clarke.

Dante explained things to them quickly and they moved aside, reaching against the wall and turning some dials.

As they did, in a bunch of cube shaped rooms inside the rooms, several showers let out shoots of water.

One of the guards looked at Clarke and said, "There is soap and sponges already inside. Use them. The sponges and soaps will be disposed of, after you've finished."

Clarke nodded then added, "What about my stuff?" She held up some of her possessions in meaning.

She had been kept from a lot of the things she had been afraid of losing, when she had been in the skybox.

She didn't want to risk being separated from them again.

The guard, whose last name, Clarke could see on the side of his uniform, on his chest, was "Lancaster," looked at Dante.

Dante answered Lancaster's curious look, "Let her have her things back, as long as she keeps them in her room."

Lancaster nodded to Dante.

Clarke noted how everyone was listening to Dante. Was he the leader here?

The chancellor?

He seemed much more friendly than Thelonius Jaha.

Dante then added, "We'll provide you with new clothes. The clothes you have on have been contaminated."

Finally, Clarke tensed somewhat. Her clothes?

"Will you get rid of my clothes?" Clarke asked with challenge.

Dante chuckled, "We won't, if you don't want us to. But we'll have to keep them in a plastic bag and secluded somewhere in your room. Alright?"

Clarke nodded.

Lancaster gestured for Clarke to go into the room and "decontaminate" herself. She hesitated only a moment. But she decided that if she was going to find a way for her people to survive on the ground? Then she would need to integrate with at least one group of people here.

She stepped into the room, thanking the guards and Dante, then as they closed up the doors to her room, she put her things down on tables and began getting undressed, checking around for cameras first and when she saw none, got fully undressed and stepped into the showers.

When Clarke got out and dried herself off with towels, she heard a knock on her door and nervously, hugging the towel to herself, she made her way over to the door and opened it.

She heard the sound of wheels coming in and a rack of clothes were pushed through into her room.

Clarke was startled, stepping back.

There were multiple shoes of all sorts all along the bottom of the rack, and all sorts of clothes.

Regular T-shirts and long-sleeved shirts and jackets and skirts and dresses and sneakers and sandals and high-heeled shoes.

Anything she felt she was interested in, she supposed she was meant to wear.

Behind the rack that was rolled in, the man that had pushed it in, another guard, with short dark hair said, looking to Clarke, "Anything you want here, kid, you can wear it."

Clarke nodded and said, "Thank you," she glanced at the man's tag on his uniform. "Lovejoy," was the last name on his tag. "Mr. Lovejoy," she added.

Lovejoy smiled and walked out of the room, closing the door up.

Clarke breathed out and dropped the towel to the floor and picked up the items she wanted. She was relieved to find several packages of underwear, as well.

She opened them up, put a set on, then grabbed some socks, put them on, grabbed a shirt, pulled it on and grabbed some pants, pulled them on, then jammed on a pair of shoes.

She was dressed in a gray T-shirt, white socks, black pants and dark blue and white sneakers.

She remembered what Dante had said about her items and she sent a sad glance to her father's watch on the table next to her bed. As long as her father's watch wasn't messed with, she was happy.

She had stuck the bag with that…statue under her bed. She had a feeling anyone who saw it, might get suspicious of her.

Because you know, why would anyone get suspicious of a creepy looking statue with an octopus for a head and bat wings?

She went to the door and tried to open them. She tried not to feel worried about the doors being locked and banged her fist against the door.

The doors opened up and there both Lovejoy and Lancaster were.

Lancaster said as she looked up at the two men, "Dante has been decontaminated as well. He would like to speak with you a moment."

Clarke nodded. "Okay," she said, walking out of the room.

Lancaster frowned and asked, "That wristband around your arm-"

Clarke shook her head. "Look," she said, "I need to decontaminate everything. And I washed this too," she held her arm up with the metal band on it, "But I can't take it off. It detects whether I'm alive or dead. If I take it off of me? My people will think I'm dead. So, I can't take it off."

Lancaster and Lovejoy looked at each other, then both of them turned and walked.

The doors closed at Clarke's back and she followed Lancaster and Lovejoy down the hall.

The two men led the girl to a large room, where Dante stood in the middle of, surrounded by paintings and several other expensive looking things.

Dante was facing an art easel, that had a canvas on it and he was holding a paintbrush, gently working paint across the canvas, as Clarke, Lovejoy and Lancaster entered the room.

Dante turned to them, smiling. "Ah, Clarke. Good. Mr. Lancaster, Mr. Lovejoy, you may leave us now."

Both Lancaster and Lovejoy answered to Dante and turned around and walked away, leaving Clarke alone with Dante.

Clarke watched as Dante lifted up the brush and placed it into a glass of water, stirring it around, getting the paint out of the bristles and he lifted the paintbrush out then, placing it onto a torn off piece of paper towel below the canvas he was working on.

He then turned to Clarke, smiling again as he continued, "My apologies for this," he held his hands up, showing off his fingertips, which were stained with paint of varying colors, his soulmate mark showing off on his left hand, which was the mark of a big black eagle of some sort, "But I just had to work on this piece, which I hadn't worked on in a while."

Clarke smiled, feeling immediate connection to this man now, hearing that he painted and drew.

"You're an artist?" She asked.

Dante chuckled as he dropped his hands, "I wouldn't go so far as to say I'm an artist. I like making art. But I can't say that I have the skill yet to call myself an artist."

Clarke looked at the other canvases around the room without frames, and realized that these paintings, Dante must have made himself.

These paintings sure looked like paintings designed by a professional artist. Dante might not necessarily be some famous painter, but it still looked like he was very skilled.

"I like to draw and paint a lot," Clarke told him, "I drew all over my bunk back at where I lived." She added, knowing that she probably shouldn't tell him too much information, however, if he really was going to help her and her people, then he would have to know some information, "The place where I used to live, is a space station that we call the 'Ark.' There's a mechanical part of the oxygen supply that's damaged. That's why they sent me down."

"Sent you down?" Dante asked, looking troubled, "You? A small child? Alone?"

Clarke tried not to take offense. She wasn't that small.

"I had to," she said, "It was to protect my father."

"Your father?" Dante asked.

Clarke nodded. "My father was arrested for almost revealing to the public about the flaw in the Ark. So, to keep my dad from being executed for trying to alert everyone, I was sent down to see if we could live on the ground."

She wasn't going to go so far as to tell him that they already knew that there were people on the ground, because of the people her dad saw, when he had first been sent down to the ground.

Or that she was originally from the ground.

Dante frowned. "They were going to kill your father?" He asked, sounding troubled, "They have your father captive and using him against you?"

Clarke nodded, wondering for a moment, if he might be able to help protect her father from Thelonius Jaha.

"I see," Dante said, looking troubled, "I'll try to help as much as I can."

Clarke smiled, knowing that she probably shouldn't get her hopes up. But she couldn't help it.

She then noticed something behind Dante, propped up against the wall. She looked at the object.

It wasn't a painting.

It was round.

It was a shield.

It was blue, red and white, with a silver star on it, in the middle.

Clarke's mouth dropped open. Not because she thought the shield was strange or anything, but because she recognized it. What American who had grown up hearing stories about Captain America-Steve Rogers, and about his shield, and had seen art done on him and his shield and had seen photographs, of him and the shield he had, wouldn't have recognized that shield?

Dante saw that Clarke was looking past him and he looked behind him, seeing the shield against the wall.

"Oh," he chuckled, "I see you've noticed the treasure which my colleagues found a few years back. I don't know how it got separated from its owner, but it ended up in the ocean not far from here. With hazmat suits on, some of our guards brought it back and decontaminated it."

Clarke's eyes widened and she looked at Dante, startled.

"You mean it's real?" She asked, "And not really made to look like the original shield?"

"Oh, yes," Dante said, smiling at Clarke, "Of course. As far as we can tell, it's really Captain America's shield. Supposedly, Captain America's shield, was made out of the strongest metal known to humanity. A type of metal known as vibranium. And the people we have here, we tested many things against this shield. It's unbreakable, as far as we can tell. So, yes, I rather think it is really the shield that belonged to the Captain America."

Clarke stared at the shield some more, stunned.

Her father idolized Captain America. And she had grown up with stories about him.

She knew that one of the soulmate names she had on her chest, was the name "Steve Rogers."

But that was obviously a coincidence. Steve Rogers had gone missing. And even though there were some rumors about the super soldier serum that he'd been given, allowing him the ability to live longer than normal humans, surely, he would have aged to death by now. Then again, maybe not. But in either case, he was missing.

So, it was heavily unlikely that Clarke's soulmate named Steve Rogers, was the same Steve Rogers that had disappeared back in World War II.

Still, Clarke idolized the hero known as Captain America, as did her father.

Seeing the shock and the awe in Clarke's eyes, Dante chuckled, "Would you like to hold it?"

Clarke nodded instantly. "Uh, yeah?" She grumbled, as if it should be an obvious answer.

Dante laughed a bit louder this time.

"Alright," he said, walking over to the shield. He leaned down and picked it up, bringing it over to Clarke and holding it out in front of him for her.

Clarke reached out and held it at its sides, feeling it. It definitely felt like metal.

If this was only a copy of Captain America's shield? Then it was a very convincing copy.

However, it didn't have a scratch on it. Then again, according to Dante, it was made of the strongest metal in the world, right?

So, it would make sense that there wasn't a scratch on the shield, even if it had seen a World War.

Dante slowly lowered the shield down to the side and leaned it against to the wall next to him and Clarke. He then turned back to the canvas that he had been working on.

He said, "Perhaps, before we talk about helping your people? You could help me out here." He gestured to the canvas in front of him, "What do you think? What should I add to this painting?"

Clarke forced herself to tear her eyes from the shield, to the canvas that Dante was working with.

The canvas was covered with multi-colored trees.

It was a startlingly beautiful painting.

"Animals, maybe?" She asked.

Dante glanced at the painting again and said, "That's a good point. There should be animals."

He picked up a pencil from the table, a pencil that was next to the paint brush and began to draw animal figures on the forest floor in the painting.

As Dante worked, Clarke looked over the other things in the room. There were bookshelves filled with books.

There were some titles that she recognized, which her mom and dad also had in his possession or that Thelonius Jaha or Markus Kane had, but a lot of the book titles, she for the life of her, could not recognize.

There were also some small statuettes that lined the shelves.

Her eyes traveled to the small figurine at the right-hand end of the fourth highest shelf in front of her.

It was a brownish-copper colored figurine, she was guessing made out of metal-bronze, brass or copper or something, and it was in an extremely interesting shape.

In the shape of a large figure, that was round, but with multiple appendages all over its body-at least, Clarke assumed that it was supposed to be a metal crafted body.

There were also multiple faces all over the round body.

"What's this?" Clarke asked, unable to help the question, even if the question might be rude, looking back at Dante.

Dante looked to her, then saw what she was pointing to.

"Oh, that," he chuckled, smiling, "That's a figurine my sister made when she was very young. Our father helped her, of course. He was the one that worked with metal in the family and my sister wanted to make it. It's of a figure known as 'Yog-Sothoth.' A supposed god. It's a god that supposedly is a…patron of time. All of time and space, he supposedly embodies it."

Clarke frowned. She had no idea what that meant. She wasn't sure she could understand a statement like that. But okay, then.

Seeing the confusion all over Clarke's face, Dante chuckled, "I can't blame you for not understanding. Beings like that one," he nodded to the figurine of this "Yog-Sothoth," "They're difficult to understand. But supposedly, they look out for certain humans. Why? I'm not entirely sure. They're motives tend to be unknown to us human beings."

Clarke looked at the figurine, then contemplated how Dante had phrased that.

He talked about the being that this figurine symbolized, as if it actually existed.

She tried not to think too heavily about what that meant.

She tried to fake that she hadn't picked up on his words to her about this "Yog-Sothoth," by looking back to Dante and asked, "Do you have any books on this creature? You talk like it's a god that people actually worship. But I've never heard of it."

"That doesn't surprise me," Dante confessed, "Not many would be eager to let other people know that they worship that specific god or other gods like it. The majority of countries across Earth, before the bombs and the radiation, was unfortunately, Christianity. And they weren't all that hospitable to other religions."

Clarke nodded. Well, she knew that much.

Ark culture was a lot like the culture that existed before the radiation and the bombs. And Clarke knew that Christianity tended to be prevalent in the especially weak. And that they were intolerant to all other religions.

Judaism, Hinduism and other religions, they were barely tolerated.

And the very "pagan" religions, were treated as religions that "abominable people" followed.

Clarke's father, Jake, had always taught her to respect all other peoples' religions. If they were of a religion that wasn't Christian, to respect them. If they were Christian, respect them. But if a someone didn't respect another person's religion? Call them out for it.

What Clarke had found, however, was that the majority of the time? Christians were the ones that tended to be judgmental, harsh and condemning of other peoples' religions, and almost never the other way around.

The few exceptions, she had discovered, were usually from the two other Abrahamic religions, Islam and Judaism.

So, if the other religions outside of the three Abrahamic religions were only tolerated, the other ones that she hadn't even heard of, most likely had been threatened with the whole "fire and brimstone" treatment.

Clarke asked curiously, "Do the people from the tribes treat you badly for worshipping this," she asked, nodding to the figurine she'd been looking at.

Dante smiled sadly as he answered, "They treat us badly regardless of what we believe. But yes. They believe in their gods. Each tribe has their own cluster of religions. The Trikru, for example? Their people have three different religions. And their tribe have different people who believe in different things. The three religions that they have in their tribe, I believe you've heard of, if your culture follows the culture that existed on Earth almost a hundred years ago. Buddhism, Judaism and a religion belonging to the Algonquin people."

Clarke vaguely recalled what "Algonquin" meant. It meant a type of indigenous people, right?

At Clarke's narrowed eyes, Dante explained further, "They were type of a Native American people. A tribe that lived in Canada, originally. They migrated to the Virginian area, after the bombs. Their native religion is one of the religions celebrated in the Trikru tribe."

Clarke nodded. Well, that was good, right? Because from what her dad had told her, Native Americans and their traditions and beliefs, often really weren't treated all that well.

Clarke then nodded to the figurine of this "Yog-Sothoth," as she said, "This creature is one of the gods worshipped in any of those religions?"

"No," Dante laughed, "Not at all. I assure you, the Trikru, not to mention all of the other tribes, would remove my head from my shoulders, as soon as I so much as suggested that Yog-Sothoth was the same as any god that they worshipped."

Oh, okay. That answered the question, then.

She wasn't even going to try to think about the possibility that any gods might exist. She had no idea.

But she just knew that the right thing was to respect other peoples' cultures and religions.

Dante said, "Would you like to meet the rest of the people here?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Clarke said.

Dante smiled and began leading Clarke out of his room, into a large hall. The two of them walked down to the end of the hall, and they stopped by a wide doorway, and Clarke looked through the doorway, seeing loads and loads of long tables, where people sat at on all sides.

There were trays full of food in front of all of these people.

Clarke gasped, taking in the sight of all these people.

There were what must have been at least hundreds of people. They were all dressed in clothing that would probably be called "modern American clothing" of the century before, when the bombs had started falling.

"Whoa," Clarke said, startled.

"As you can see," Dante said, "We have a whole community here."

There indeed did seem to be a community here.

"How many people are in this mountain?" Clarke asked quietly, shock motivating the question.

"Including the children and babies," Dante answered, "Over three hundred and thirty-three."

"Wow," Clarke mumbled.

She was admittedly impressed. An entire community of people, driven underground and suffered from a weakened immune system, and they had made a good long, life for themselves.

Dante said, "My father was a boy when he and his parents were driven underground. He taught me to protect and look after my people. I think I've done pretty good, don't you think?"

Clarke nodded, a slight laugh leaving her. Yes, Dante was right about that.

Dante added, "I have a son, Cage. Cage Wallace. I'm afraid I can't say I'm too proud of him as the young man he's become. But hopefully, he will protect my people after I've died."

Clarke glanced at Dante.

These Mountain Men reminded her a great deal of her own people.

They were like her people in culture and leadership. Well, except for the fact that the Mountain Men's leadership seemed to be a matter of passing it on to the next biological generation. And the Ark people simply elected chancellors.

"There are a few things that you can do fun around the mountain," Dante said, "I'll show them to you later. But we should get you checked out first."

"Checked out?" Clarke looked at Dante again, curious.

Dante explained, "I would like you to come meet our top physician, Dr. Tsing. To take a blood sample from you and see if you need any medical assistance."

Clarke hesitated a moment, then nodded. "Okay," she said.

Dante turned and led Clarke down some stairs to what Clarke presumed was the next level of the mountain and they reached a door, pushing the doors open and entered what had to be an infirmary.

As they entered this infirmary, Clarke saw a woman with brown skin and long, very dark hair, working at a computer, with several syringes in front of her.

"Dr. Tsing," Dante announced, "I need your assistance. We have a visitor. This is Clarke."

The woman turned from the computer and looked at Dante and Clarke. Her eyes widened somewhat when she saw Clarke.

"Hello," She said, "Who are you?"

"This guy just said what my name was," Clarke said, nodding to Dante, and as soon as she said that, she felt bad. She hadn't meant it to be rude. She'd meant it to be funny.

"Sorry," She said, hoping they weren't offended by her lip.

Dante and Tsing, however, both chuckled.

"It's alright," Dante assured her, "And Dr. Tsing, she's from a place called 'The Ark.' Apparently, it's a space station."

Tsing's eyes got even wider then. "From space?"

Dr. Tsing then turned her attention fully to Clarke and Clarke almost faltered in her steps.

She didn't like the new way in which Dr. Tsing was staring at her.

Clarke got the feeling from that stare, as if Dr. Tsing felt like she had just found a very, very important key to…something.

"And I suppose you want me to take her blood and inspect it, right, Dante?" She asked.

"Yes," Dante said, "Please check if she needs any healing at all."

Dr. Tsing nodded and she gestured to the seat next to her desk.

Clarke tried not to shiver.

She had never liked needles. However, she had always sucked it up and let her mother take her blood to study it.

And her mother always made sure that it was she herself that took Clarke's blood. And no one else.

Clarke supposed that her mother wanted to make sure that Clarke wouldn't feel more pain than she needed to.

But this woman? Clarke did not like how Tsing looked at her, and she was very nervous about letting this woman take any of her blood.

Still, she sat down at the desk, and waited.

Tsing got her blood analyzing machine ready and grabbed a needle, unwrapped it, sterilized it and got a tube and plastic vial ready.

She used a swab to rub alcohol against the place along Clarke's right arm, where she intended to take the blood, and she carefully slipped the needle into Clarke's vein, making Clarke wince, and she watched as Dr. Tsing pull the plunger of the syringe up, the blood flowing out into the syringe and up through the long tube and into the vial.

Clarke was relieved when it was over, needless to say.

Tsing placed a band aid over Clarke's puncture mark, and Tsing then brought the vial of the girl's blood to the computer, placed the vial into a tray in the computer's side and Clarke supposed that Dr. Tsing ran it through to analyze the blood.

As Tsing studied the results, Clarke observed the woman's face and she tensed, when she saw the woman's eyes widen.

"Dr.?" Clarke mumbled, feeling uneasy.

Tsing said to Dante, "Dante, can you and I have a word?"

"Of course," Dante said, coming over and he looked to Clarke, speaking softly, "Clarke, can you please go over there," he nodded to the opposite side of the hall, where there was a long, black couch up against the opposite side wall.

Clarke eyed both Tsing and Dante, but got up and moved over there. Whatever they were going to discuss about her blood? It wasn't for her ears, and there was not much she could do about it.

She got up and moved and dropped on the couch, out of earshot of the two adults.

Dante spoke to Tsing and Tsing spoke to Dante.

Clarke watched and waited.

Whatever they were saying? From their body language? It must have been important.

Finally, Dante turned from Tsing and went over to Clarke. He smiled at her and said, "A perfectly normal blood type. However, I'd like to point out that you and the rest of your people, I suspect, have stronger immunity to the outside world than we do."

Clarke frowned. She wasn't sure if his voice was supposed to sound foreboding or not, but….

Dante gestured for Clarke to follow him. "Come this way," he said, "I'll introduce you to a few children your age."

Clarke again paused, but got up and followed Dante out of the room, trying to not feel the uneasy, piercing stare of Tsing's eyes on her back.

Clarke was brought to the upper level, where the crowds of people were.

As they passed through the large doorway, Clarke caught the eye of another guard, with short brown hair. This guard glared at Clarke.

Dante said to the guard, nodding to him, "Emerson."

Clarke tried to keep her head down, not wanting to make this "Emerson" guard, more angry.

As they passed down the steps, Clarke followed Dante still.

It wouldn't be until a few months, till she understood the danger that all these people; Emerson, Tsing, Dante, Lancaster-all of them, really, posed to her.

Dante led Clarke to the tables and Clarke was seated down next to a group of teenagers and children. The teenagers and children all looked at Clarke, confused.

Dante explained the situation.

As soon as Dante mentioned that Clarke was from the outside, Clarke tried not to wince, when she saw several of the teenagers and kids, look like they might try to run from her-evidently worried about "contamination." However, Dante explained that she had been decontaminated properly, and that she was "safe."

That caused the teenagers and kids to relax.

Dante then asked the teenagers and kids to treat Clarke like she was one of them and be kind to her. Then he left.

One of the girls, a few years older looking than Clarke, with long black or very dark brown hair and brown eyes, and light brown skin, spoke up, smiling, "My name's Maya, Clarke. It's nice to meet you."

Clarke smiled. "It's nice to meet you too," she said.

Several of the other teenagers and children introduced themselves, both cautious but curious about this girl that came from the outside, yet clearly was unlike any of the outsiders they had heard of before.

Dante? He walked from the dining hall and went back downstairs to join Tsing, considering what she had told him.

What she had told him had been…most informative.

Flashback to several minutes ago:

Dante faced Tsing, trying not to think about Clarke being only a few yards away. The room was very vast and large, so yes, "yards."

Tsing stared up at Dante and Dante could tell from the imploring look in her dark eyes, that what she had to say, was important.

She said, "Wallace, please listen to me," she only called him, "Wallace," when she had something extremely important to tell him, "That girl is not entirely human. In fact, I'd say from the blood sample? That she's barely half a quarter human. What small percent of human blood there is, is the blood type A Positive. But the rest of her DNA? Nothing about it is human."

Dante's eyes widened, and realization hit. Clearly, from what he could observe of Clarke? She didn't realize that she wasn't human-or at least, nearly not human. Dante had heard all the stories from when he'd been a child. Stories of beings like Yog-Sothoth, and Yog-Sothoth himself, having mated with humans and producing half human or barely human children.

Was Clarke a product of one of these unions?

He had seen no extra limbs on the child, no tentacles or tails or fangs.

But he knew that appearances could be deceiving. He had met creatures like Clarke before, and they had appeared like a perfectly average, normal human.

But they had been the opposite.

There had been nothing unremarkable about them.

Some could look almost entirely human, yet so opposite of that, it wasn't even funny. Some of them could be a mixture of appearances, appearing partially human, but with extra appendages that certainly didn't appear like human appendages, and some others still? Looked….looked more like their very much non-human parent.

Dante recalled an incident in the small town of "Dunwich," involving twin brothers. One who could at least pretend that he was human, but the moment his lower torso was revealed…well, that was another story. As for the other twin? Well…he got the…..other traits from his father, Yog-Sothoth.

Dante carefully tilted his head back to look over at Clarke, hoping she wouldn't notice. That girl, that completely normal looking young girl, she might yet grow into something far more dangerous. So much more dangerous.

Dante then looked back to Tsing and said, "And the rest of the Ark people? Do we have any idea of what they might be like? And can we use Clarke? Or the rest of the Ark people?"

Tsing shook her head. And Dante wasn't surprised.

"There would be no way to use anything Clarke has," Tsing said, "Her DNA? If we tried to use it or her bone marrow or anything? I think it might actually kill us if it entered our bodies."

Dante sighed. He had figured that.

Beings like Yog-Sothoth, they could reproduce with humans to make hybrids, but putting their blood or bone or whatever into a human's actual bloodstream, would kill that human.

It was as if these beings were telling humans, "how dare you?" the moment a human tried to use their blood, bone or whatever.

"And the Ark people?" He said.

Tsing shook her head. "I don't know," she said, "Did she give any indication of what these people were like?"

Dante answered, "No. She just told me that her father was in danger. But I suspect her father isn't her biological father. Neither is her mother her own biological mother. I doubt that we're looking at an Ark full of half-human hybrids. I suspect that Clarke's the only one."

Tsing nodded.

Unless you were looking at very specific areas in the world? It would be difficult to find half-human hybrids in groups.

It was rare. That was, unless you decided to stop by the town of Innsmouth, which no longer existed, as it had long since become part of the sea and the Deep Ones had long since swam off into the ocean to join their god and original ancestor, Father Dagon.

"So," Dante said, "Clarke is a barely half-human hybrid. And she is advocating for an Ark full of likely just normal humans. We'll have to know more about the people of the Ark to be certain if we can use them or not, but my guess? They've been exposed far more to the sun than we have, so, their blood should be of great help to us."

Tsing nodded. "I was thinking the same thing." She said, and Dante did not miss the greed in the woman's eyes, "Their blood most likely will help us in ways that the blood of the people of the tribes, never have before. But the girl will have to be kept ignorant of our intentions."

"Yes," Dante nodded, "I'm aware of this. But we have to be careful with Clarke. Make sure not to harm her. We don't want to risk harming any great being's child. For all we know, we might offend Yog-Sothoth, if we hurt her."

Tsing nodded. She knew full well, that they most certainly didn't want that.

Fast forward to the present, Dante was going down to meet with Tsing again.

Now at the moment?

He planned. They would drain every last drop of blood from the Ark people, if it meant that the Mountain Men could go above ground and take the land from the tribes, which had driven them underground in the first place.

And Clarke? Who may very well be the daughter of Yog-Sothoth himself? She didn't have to know.