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“Don’t we finally know where Clay is?” Jason demanded as he led Bravo into the meeting room. Every part of him prayed for it to be true, every part of him knew Bravo might not manage another false hope. “Who took him?”. Bravo had been on a routine mission, another routine run, and then Clay had disappeared. Simply vanished into thin air. None of them heard anything over the comms – no sound of struggle, no pleas for help, nothing. And when they had eventually made their way to the sniper hole Clay had been stationed at, he wasn’t there. His rifle and the imprint in the dirt where he had been lying had only remained. But clay wasn't there. Clay had been taken, under their noses, and none of them had realised.
The look of unadulterated hope on Sonny’s face nearly killed Jason “We found blondie?” The Texan had been taking Clay's Disappearance the hardest of them all, for some reason feeling more responsible because he was Clay's best friend. He had also taken the false hope that the worst with drinking and starting fights in bars, which more often than not, Jason had to rescue him from. Mandy and Lisa had been using every resource to find Clay, looking everywhere, trading favours. Nothing.
Blackburn hesitated, looking angrier than Jason had seen him in a long time. It was subtle, but it was visible if you knew what to look for “We found Clay.” He said, but the words were bitter in the air as they hung over them all, anticipation and dread building. Bravo was more than a team, and Blackburn was more than a commander. More than once had the man had gone to bat for them, and he cared for them as more than just soldiers. “We managed to track Clay down after Lisa was directed to an underground auction through a contract. A seller specialising in military personnel is selling Clay tonight, starting bid is twenty million US dollars.”
Jason felt the air rush out of his body, and the world went silent for a second before it crashed into him. The reality he now found himself trapped in was unavoidable, and it was worse than he imagined. SEALs who got sold in black markets were almost never found, and if they were, they were never the same. Clay – his Clay, his youngest teammate, the teammate who is something more like a son to him – is being sold. The horror is unprecedented, and they all feel it.
“He’s being sold?” Ray asked, not bothering to hide his worry and disgust, “Someone took him to sell him?”
Sonny demanded, angry energy emitting from him like a blown fuse, “Why are we here and not kicking down the door to the auction? Why are we still here?”
“We wouldn't be able to get there in time” Trent argued “By the time we made a plan, it would be too late.”
Sonny looked one push away from putting Trent on the floor “Are you saying we leave him?”
“No” Trent hissed in defence “I’m being realistic. It would be better to try and buy him and set up a meet.”
“That’s enough” Brock muttered, standing between them both “What’s the plan, Blackburn?”
“Clay’s next” Lisa said, her hands flying over a keyboard “I have a starting bid in, and I have the auction connected to the screen.” In the group panic, Jason hadn’t actually seen the screen with the live feed. Now, it felt impossible to look away from his eyes, glued to the screen, watching every pixel and person and memorising it.
Then Clay appeared. That’s the wrong word for it. Clay was dragged onto the screen, chained by a collar and left like cattle onto the stage. Every part of this person was Clay, everything but the eyes. He wore the same under shirts they all did, he had the same blonde hair and blue colour in his eyes. But he was hunched, making himself smaller. Hesitantly to step.
He looked scared.
Brock instinctively took a step forward “What did they do to him?” Clay Spenser was a lot of things, but scared was never one of them. He was angry and confident and kind and intelligent, and about a thousand other things, but he was never scared.
“I’m going to kill them all”
“Get in line” Ray said in response to Sonny.
Clay stepped hesitantly, light on his toes. Clay only took small steps, trying to take up as little space as possible. Jason had never seen such a dramatic change in a person in such a short amount of time. His head was down, his eyes scanning everywhere but the screen – and fixed on the man leading him. Only when the man pulled on the chain connecting him to the collar did Jason understand the fear.
Clay collapsed.
Violently gasping for air and clutching at his throat, Clay was left a shaking mess on the floor. He was gasping, desperately, as people do when they see the end near. Silence fell over them both, and Jason reached for his own throat. Everyone felt the same fear, the same horror.
The auctioneer laughed “See this.” He said, his humour infuriating Jason. “A might Navy SEAL left compliant. This one is difficult, but he comes with the collar. My own creation. Built with a hidden high-tension wire, the device is designed to constrict the trachea and arteries, crushing resistance in seconds with brutal precision.” As if to show his point, he let go of the chain.
The sound of the chain hitting the floor was the loudest thing Jason had ever heard. And the effect was immediate. Clay could finally breathe again, and the shaking had subsided, but not enough for Jason.
“That’s sick” Trent whispered, paler than Jason remembers him being a few minutes before “The crushing mechanism is serious and used without care will kill Clay easily. We're looking at potential permanent damage, crush damage to the vertebrae-”
“We get it” Sonny shouted, “We understand those sick fuckers are torturing Clay.” He was shaking, and Jason felt the same fear. It was overwhelming, controlling beyond words.