Another Short Story (Untitled So Far)

Hello dear readers!

I know, I didn't post the last couple weekends... again. I was out of town/away from my computer last weekend and the weekend before, I was busy with some projects. But I have an idea for another short story, and I think/hope this one will be better than the last one I did. I originally was going to do a short story for Clair but then I got a cool idea for something else that works better for someone else (although I'm still going to put Clair into it). Anyway, here goes nothing!

                                                        Chapter One

 My fingers work at the lock of my handcuffs as I sit alone in the interrogation room. They left me unsupervised. How silly of them. 

Footsteps sound in the hall and I stop moving. The door opens and a young lady with auburn hair and piercing blue eyes walks in. She approaches the table and spreads a stack of photographs out in front of me. All of them are from multiple time periods. All of them have me in them. 

"Who are you?" the lady asks.
I smirk. "I assume you have some sort of idea, considering you have me here."

She narrows her eyes slightly. "You're either a time traveler or immortal, or something else we haven't heard of. Which is it?"
"I'll tell you who I am if you'll tell me who you are."

She sits in the chair across the table. I notice how gracefully she moves. Odd thing to take note of, I know, but I'm used to perceiving such strange things. 

"My name's Clair," she tells me after a moment. "I'm an agent of A.R.R.O.W. And you are?"

"Arabella Werne. Immortal." 

Clair writes something down on a clipboard. "Since then?" She points at the oldest photograph, from around the year 1826.

I shake my head. "Before that. About... let's see... I was a kid when Rome fell... I became immortal when I was about twenty... so pretty close to a thousand and five hundred years ago."

She blinks. "That... is a long time," she manages after a moment. 

"I noticed."

Adding a note to her clipboard, Clair seems a little disturbed. I wonder what kind of experience she has with this sort of thing. She seems pretty young to be in an organization like this. She can't be younger than sixteen.

A shuffling noise comes from the ventilation shaft above. Clair doesn't seem to notice. 

"Well," she says after a moment. "I think that's all, so I'll go and check in with my boss and make sure there's nothing else I need to find out, and then we'll see about getting you out of here. I'll be back."

She stands up and leaves the room, taking the pictures and her clipboard with her. 

Exactly three minutes later, an overhead ceiling panel slides to the side and three other girls drop into the room. I'd managed to pick the lock on my handcuffs, finally, and I stand up and rub feeling back into my wrists.

"You guys were too loud," I complain. "I thought she'd hear you moving around in the air vent."

One of the girls, Surrea, shrugs. I notice her white blindfold is smudged with dust. "We tried to stay quiet."

"But Naria kept bumping me," Andrea explains energetically, in a much too loud voice. Her dark purple hair is more messy than normal, and her pale violet eyes are wide with indignation.

Naira crosses her arms. "I tried not to." The small girl's sea-green eyes are narrowed slightly, and I notice a bruise forming on her right arm.

"Did you three have some trouble getting in?" I ask. 

They look at each other. "No, not at all."

"You all seem to be in rough shape," I point out. "Come on, you guys have worked with me for years now. You know you can't hide anything."

"Okay, we may have run into a few soldiers on the way in," Surrea tells me. 

Naria nods. "But we took care of them without much fuss."

"They were only number threes," Andrea relates.

"Let's get out of here," I announce. I'll find out exactly what happened later. "Naria, will you silence us?"

She nods and spreads her hands, a deep green shimmer surrounding the four of us. "Done."

I open the door. "Here we go."

"Actually, you're staying here. All four of you."

Andrea clutches my arms. "A number seven. I've never, ever seen a number seven," she whispers urgently. 

"Clair," I smile, feigning unconcern. "Fancy seeing you here."

  To Be Continued