The truth lies, and Reality is never what it seems. (Locked for SandS13)

Her breasts rose and fell, pushing against the fabric of her tank top with the motion. She seemed to not notice or perhaps did not care that the details of her nipples were visible or that her nipples were hard. They were perpetually hard from chill, a side effect of the spell, of her altered nature. Genevieve also did not seem to notice the restraint that Clay was showing. Her focus was solely on whether or not he was alright.

She helped him up and stood there, hands locked with his. Clay shifted a hand and her right instinctively moved to hold him by the forearm. Genevieve thought he was testing his balance, letting go one hand to see how his body fared.

She was confused as his hand lifted hers to his lips. Impossibly warm lips on her cold skin. Genevieve was surprised to find her heartbeat increasing. Her eyes locked onto his. Hers were a swirl of confusion at the gesture.

Genevieve stepped forward a little. “Thank you for trusting me Clay. I want to do what I can. That thing is dangerous in the wrong hands...it chose you so for now, I believe your hands are the right ones.”

She licked her lips as she lifted her chin a little. They were full and wet now, slightly parted as her eyes looked deep into his. They lacked a warmth, a spark….something. As she stood here close to him, close to the ring she could feel the thrum of its power. It was strange though...like something was pulling on her. It was almost uncomfortable. It took Genevieve a moment to realize that the ring was calling and pulling the part of her she had locked away.

There was a hint of alarm in her eyes. Her hand tightened on his forearm and her breathing increased. “Are you doing that or is it?” She wasn’t sure if Clay had any idea what she might be referring to. She stepped in again, almost fully against his chest as if seeking comfort and turned to look over her shoulder to the bathroom.

Her emotions, her other self banged on the bathroom mirror.

She was annoyed at herself. She should have known the ring could alter or break any spell it wanted to but she had not considered it would be vaguely sentient.

Genevieve breathed out slow and hard through her nose. Now that she was very close to him she could feel the show of his arousal against her hip. Perhaps the ring was reacting to his desire. She was a little confused as to how he could desire her. She was cold, literally and intimidating. That had been the point of locking the rest away. Her face lifted, her breath cool on his neck. “This poses a slight problem. I have something locked away that the ring seems intent on releasing.” She was reluctant to explain more but then she had asked him to trust her…

“A spell, used to lock away emotions and feelings. I am locked in the mirror. It is to make me better at my job. No emotions leads to more logical decisions. It seems the ring has other ideas. It is feeding off your desire and trying to free it. I am not prepared to- feel.”

A hint of fear. The smallest glimmer in her eyes and in her words. The idea of feeling made a knot form in the pit of her stomach.
 
Clay squeezed her hand, the one holding his forearm. "I know what it's like to not want to feel anything. I've spent many a years swimming at the bottom of a bottle trying to not remember any of my life."

Clay couldn't believe he'd just said it, his lips moved, and that inner voice of his, the one he'd burried 20 feet deep in his soul under concrete and alcohol. That voice which existed well before he'd put on the ring. All of it brought to the surface because of it he figured. For a reason he wasn't quite sure of Clay tried to sound... reassuring.

"When you are ready, maybe when we are both ready, we'll feel something together. You can tell me why you keep looking back at the mirror, and I'll tell you why I kept trying to find the bottom of a bottle."

With a subtle squeeze again to her wrist and tried to bury the fact that he'd like to kiss her on the lips and find out if the cold temperature of her body could quel, even stamp out the inferno of attraction to her that was building in his body. But he didn't... There was no way it would be appropriate to try and kiss her.

Instead he walked gingerly, each step more sure than the last. He was pretty sure he'd be fine. Not in the kind of condition that would allow him to run a marathon, but he felt better.

"Now.. where to first?"
 
He was holding her, touching her in what Genevieve recognized as a show of understanding and support. His words were honest and seemed to even surprise him a little. He seemed to not understand what she had said about the spell or perhaps he didn't but didn't fully comprehend what she meant when she said she was locked in the mirror.

It didn't matter. She let it pass. He seemed to want to share, to open up. She recognized it but there was no feeling tied to it for her.

Moving to walk beside him, Genevieve focused on him, happy to be done with talk of emotions and past. She nodded at his movements. "Good, steady and it will only get stronger as the days go and you are back to normal. I suggest you begin some physical training as we have no idea what we might encounter."

She opened the door that led from the bedroom to the equally cold and stark living room. It was an open concept, the kitchen visible on the other side of the room. "As for where to first, I suggest Alexandria. The library is our great source of knowledge. We can spend time there doing research. I have allies there."

Genevieve moved to sit on a yoga mat that was laid out on the floor. There was couch, stark white and linear but she opted for the floor. Her legs crossed as she sat. Her posture was impeccable. Her hands folded naturally in her lap.

The two guards were standing by the front door now. Both still had the same look on their faces.

"So, what do you need...clothing and other items? I will have them sent for. We will leave first thing in the morning so...." Her eyes darted to the window. "Three hours from now. You can rest more on the plane." Genevieve watched him. It felt strange to her to have others in her space.

Behind her, laid out on the floor were all her weapons - various knives and guns, a whip. They were all laid out after she had cleaned them.
 
Clay walked into the living room and felt like he'd just walked into the lair of a warrior goddess. Looking at the variety of weapons, staffs, swords, knives, and firearms clay was beside himself... He'd never picked up a weapon, never held one in his hand.

Absently he looked at the weapons she had laid out and started thinking out loud as he looked at each one. " Yea I'm going to need clothes, seeing as all of my stuff was back at the camp. I don't know how much would be worth saving but I've basically been living out of a duffle bag for the last year and a half." When Genevieve sat on the yoga mat, he couldn't take his eyes off her again, her toned physique, her legs, and the fact that her nipples were announcing their presence through her top.

I've... I've never picked up a gun or a knife let alone a sword before. The largest weapon I've ever held in my hand was a decorative knife, priceless. but fragile. I've never thought of, needing one."

His eyes focused on a pair of short swords, the blades a dull black, soaking in all light, the metal was something he'd never seen before. As he reached out and wrapped his hand around the hilt of one, he lightly picked up its matched twin and felt their weight. Holding each short sword they seemed to be well balanced, definitely weapons that one could fight with. The damage one could do with these if properly trained, he imagined his guardian, holding these while fending off a number of unknown bad guys, masked ninja's from some 80's movie. And while the fleeting thought of trying to use these weapons was something he'd love to do, the voice of reason spoke to him, took hold of his mind, and shook sense into him. He'd just as soon kill himself with those things as much as he'd try and defend himself. Hell, the ring may have had the power he could feel that but no amount of 'power' could replace skill and training. He wasn't living in a video game. Putting the weapons back down in the spot he'd found them, he looked at the impressive array of handguns and weapons on display and thought, a 21st-century man should stick to what he knows.

In Clay's case, that'd be mostly nothing. He remembered going to an adventure camp as a kid and learning to shoot a shotgun and using a small-caliber handgun. Picking up a rather large shotgun, with an extended tube under the barrel, Clay hefted it, pointed it at the ground and tried to remember the 'safety' lessons from his youth, checking it and putting it back on the table he picked up what looked to be a basic black semiauto handgun.

"If it's all the same, I kinda have a clue as to how to use these, but if I pick up those swords I'll probably cut myself. If it's ok I'll l take the shotgun and the pistol, ok? Maybe you can teach me a few things before we leave?"

He looked into her eyes and again couldn't help another look at her chest. She was beautiful. It had been a long long time since he'd actually admitted to himself that he was attracted to someone. Especially now, and no matter how he might try he couldn't not be attracted to his mysterious guard, er.. guardian... Clay would have to fight the urge to do something rash.. continually.
 
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Genevieve was back in full control once more. Her other self was in the mirror, they were further apart now and it helped to keep her more centred. Clay, the underlying magic...all of this was proving to be more than she was prepared for. She would have to be more careful as things progressed.

From her place on the mat she watched him as Clay looked over her weapons. Her back was straight, her hands resting on her thighs as she sat cross-legged.

"I will see to all the clothes you need. I just need size, colours you prefer and if you have things you do not like, please let me know. I realize my style is not everyone's." Professional, rational.

Her head tilted a little. Her eyes followed his hand as his fingers moved over the weapons. Her lips parted and she imagined his fingers moving over her skin with the same reverence. "A good choice." Her voice was a whisper. Her hands slid up and down her thighs slowly.

His eyes met hers. Genevieve stared into his for a moment. She was being drawn in and that was dangerous. her gaze flicked away. "You may leave." The guards exited the apartment. They would go into the hall now, silent sentinels.

"I can teach you." She stood, the movement of her legs uncrossing and standing was fluid. Genevieve came to Clay's side. "We can start with the swords. First, the grip.."

The shift of her body, a half turn so she was pressed at his side. Her hand reached out to cover his. Cold to his warmth.

"May I?" Her breast brushed his upper arm and her head lifted to look over his shoulder towards his face. She was very still, to the point where it was hard to tell she was breathing. Her fingers intermingled with his.
 
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Her hands were... cold, but it still didn't quell the fire within him, he welcomed her touch, as different as it was, he couldn't help but revel in the new experience, but what excited him was being with her, alone without the guards.

When she touched him he was sure they were no more than an inch apart, he was supposed to be concentrating on form, how to hold the shotgun, braced against his shoulder, tucked and correct so the recoil could be absorbed by his body. Her directions on how the action worked, cycling the action and loading shells into the tube. As she stood close, hands near just to the right of him Clay was drawn to her as if he needed to be near her to breathe.

Yes.. breathe he thought, and he turned his head to look at her lips. Without thinking his own met hers, a delicate kiss, he wanted more, but he was shocked at the desire within him to even try to kiss her.

But he did, and he felt the fire of desire burst from him like a raging inferno. He wasn't thinking about that now. Now all he wanted to do was turn and take her in his arms. She could snap his neck like a twig surely, and at the moment he could care less.

The kiss lasted for a moment, he could taste her on his lips.. feel the cool of her skin against him, next to his face, and the desire to kiss her again, to taste that sensation again enthralled him. Looking at Genevieve's face he could tell she was just as shocked as he was that he'd kissed her, and as he leaned in to kiss her again, she slapped him. HARD. The shotgun clattered across the concrete floor while Clay was laid out at her feet before he even had a chance to speak.
 
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The first kiss caught her off guard. It was so light, so..gentle. Genevieve was struck more by that aspect than the contact itself. Gentle was not a word that was linked to her in anyway. She was cold and hard. Firm and unshakeable.

And yet, in the crush of his arms Clay was making the trained killer fracture. Her mind was in shock, confused as to what he was doing and why.

He was impossibly warm against her body. It was as if he was trying to heat her, melt the ice of her body. At first she didn't kiss him back. She was too surprised. And then, the faintest movement of her lips against his.

There was the sound of shattering glass in the other room as Genevieve's body relaxed...just a little bit. She stiffened and pulled her face back. She struck him. Her other hand touched her lips. They were warm.

"Why-why did you do that?" Large eyes stared at him, shock and confusion even a hint of fear filled them. She was not a woman that men desired. She had made herself that way. Untouchable, undesirable and distant. Genevieve's heart pounded in her chest.
 
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Her question brought him out of his own haze, and he wasn't really sure why he'd kissed her.

"I don't know... i just wanted to...I can't really explain it except for a desire to kiss you. There seemed to be some sort of palpable attraction between us that you could well, feel without really seeing it. If that makes any sense."

Clay searched his thoughts as he picked himself up off the floor. Touching his face he could feel the bruising, his face hurt more than his ego ever would. From his position she was above him, imposing an invisible will against him her stearn demeanor and the look on her face assuring him that he shouldn't try that again.

"All of this is so nuts, I've got this ring on my finger, Magic exists, you tell me you aren't human, or more than but you must be an assassin of some sort otherwise why would you have tried to kill me? But now you are trying to protect me. None of this makes sense!"

Clay was beside himself, he'd been trying to piece it all together in his mind with the help of the ring but he felt ever more adrift than ever.

"This is not me. 24 hours ago I would have crawled into a bottle. Now... Now you're telling me people want to kill me and I'm supposed to meet your employers so they can decide what to do with me? It's.. It's all too much."

Clay has sat up, but he hadn't gotten up, looking at his hands and then looking at her, Clay almost pleaded with his next words.

"It's been a long time a very long time since I've been in the presence of a woman who wanted to be around me. I've become quite unwelcome, my own self-loathing has wrecked my life. Maybe it's all of this new unknown that has made me latch on to some connection we have. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you. I won't do that again."

Lowering his gaze to the floor he found the shotgun and put it back up on the table as he finally got to his feet.

"Teach me.. please... I.."

And before Clay could finish him thought he heard the sound of an approaching helicopter.

"Were you expecting anyone?"
 
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Genevieve stood there, lowered her hand from her lips and stared at him like a deer in headlights.

For fuck's sake...you are an assassin not a mooning teenager! Get it together.

"No, you shouldn't have. You shouldn't have even wanted to. I don't understand. I have ensured I am unapproachable. None should want me, you should be repelled by me. I-" Her tone showed her confusion. "Do you understand- no you don't, this is all new to you, the idea of magic." Genevieve shook her head. She didn't understand. Her spell should have made him recoil from how cold she was, the lack of emotion.

She frowned. He was right but she couldn't find the sympathy for what he was going through. That was locked away wit the rest of her emotions. "I can- understand your apprehension and confusion." Her tone was level, matter of fact. "You should not have kissed me but I cannot fault you for acting. Those who act on emotions generally do things they should not." Genevieve looked down at him. She put out a hand to help him up. She was about to tell him that she would teach him but his question made her stiffen.

Genevieve turned. "No. No one should be coming here. No one knows of this place..." She crouched a little and moved over towards the window. "Pick up the gun. Pick it up now!"

Something was very, very wrong. She ran to where her weapons were laid out and began to arm herself before stashing the rest in the bag and hauling it onto her back. She had two guns, one in each hand. "This is not good, do you understand me? We need to get out-"

Before she could finish there was the sound of gunshots in the hallway and lights shone into the windows.

"Fuck."

She raised her guns, one at the door and one at the window. "Pick a target and shoot there."
 
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"SHOOT!? and Shoot where??" was all Clay could get out before the windows behind him shattered. Two armed figures crashed through the windows, forcing their way inside the room.

Clay could feel the sense of urgency now and the need for self-preservation overrode any other thought. He was NOT going to die here, not now, not when he had so many questions, and before he knew it he'd moved, dove across the floor to where the shotgun landed grasping for it and two shells from the side holder that'd been attached to the left side of the frame. Slamming them home he could feel the quick "THUNK" as they slid into the tube as his thumb rode back and pressed the bolt release, sending one shell into the chamber.

Turning toward the nearest adversary he watched out of the corner of his eye as Genevieve took to defending herself against three well-armed attackers. who rushed in through the door to the apartment. Each was armed with a short-barreled semi-automatic rifle similar to what he'd seen contractors and paramilitary types using, and as each approached his guardian as if they intended to fight her in hand-to-hand combat. But Clay had his own problems. The two armed attackers who'd just broken through the windows behind him roping down from a helicopter above the building Clay was staying in the attackers shot out the windows and swung into the room. Clay had the shotgun in hand, aimed the massive weapon at the first attacker, and pulled the trigger expecting the weapon to bark in his hands. Instead, he was greeted with an inoperable weapon.

The two attackers detached themselves from their ropes, and quickly crossed the room to wrap up Clay as he sat there on the floor trying to get the damn thing to work. Clay screamed, "GOD DAMN THING WON'T FIRE!".

One of his attackers laughed, ACTUALLY LAUGHED at Clay as they approached reaching out for the barrel of the shotgun and attempting to yank the thing from Clay's grasp. As they did, Clay's thumb which had been resting just on the edge of the safety button for the shotgun, depressed it at the same time that Clay pulled back and pulled the trigger. The effect of the shotgun going off at point-blank range was immediate and fatal. A 3-inch slug lurched from the barrel of the shotgun slamming the attacker with enough force to break through the armored chest plate the person was wearing, sending them immediately backward with enough force to make them a human ragdoll. Arms, legs flailing, the slug severed the spine at an upward angle slamming against the rear backplate of the attacker's armor and causing enough catastrophic internal damage that the attacker crumpled against the wall.

The second attacker watched as their teammate crashed against the wall, just as Clay swung the weapon in their direction and pulled the trigger again. Unknown to Clay, he was holding a Remington model V3, an autoloading shotgun which he simply had to cock once by the firing handle, which he'd done already. His second attacker wiser, yet not quite fast enough, was equally unable to avoid being on the receiving end of another deadly round from the shotgun. The slug hit the attacker with such force, that it spun them like a top, twirled them, and tossed them against the far wall. Clay, inexperienced in the ways of death or really firing any sort of weapon was dumbfounded by the shotgun's effects on his attackers. He'd taken out two of the people who'd been sent to either kill him or take him captive. He wasn't sure if they were men or women, elf, human, or something else, but what he did know, was that he had to help Genevieve. So, swinging the weapon around watching as she performed some deadly ballet with the three who'd attacked her he watched in awe. Trying to find an opening he aimed at the closest one hoping he could take them out and improve her odds but as soon as he heard and felt the metal 'CLICK' he knew the shotgun was empty.

Scrambling.. he attempted to load the shotgun with what rounds he had left, pulling them off the carrier and trying to slip them in as Genevieve had instructed, Only his hand slipped, and he sent the first two shells he had skittering across the floor.

With an audible groan, Clay scrambled after them, shotgun in hand hoping he could catch them and still help her. "Hang in there!!" Not that his words might help, but he said it anyway.
 
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Genevieve wanted to yell at him but as the windows broke and shots rang out there was no time. She tried to get closer to Clay but her attention was already split between the door and the window. She knew without question her guards had likely been killed. All she needed to do was get Clay out of here alive.

She heard Clay load the gun and turned her full attention on the three that were coming at her. She holstered one gun, the windows no longer her focus. She shot one, not pausing to watch him fall in pain. She turned, grabbing him and using him as a shield. Genevieve fired at the third man dropping him.

She was not prepared as the man she held reached behind and lodged a knife into her side. It burned on top of the pain. She swore under her breath but gripped him tighter and brought her gun in, shooting him.

He dropped to the floor and Genevieve went with him, landing on her knee. She was struggling to catch her breath. The blade was obviously iron and enchanted. She could feel it under her rib and worried it had hit her lung. There were too many footsteps so she cast a quick spell to ease the pain and let the adrenaline take over.

Standing, she drew her other gun once more and began to shoot her way to the door.

She heard Clay yell to hang in there and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was meant for her or to reassure himself. She ignored it and kept firing, watching foes fall. She dropped empty clips and then, realizing she wasn’t ready tossed the guns aside angrily.

Genevieve quickly realized hand to hand with a knife in her side was not entirely comfortable. Pulling it was a bad idea as she wasn’t able to stop and press anything to it to stem the bleeding. Moving and breathing caused discomfort.

Her eyes scanned her next attacker. “Get to the door! I am clearing a path!” Genevieve grabbed the attacker’s wrist as she yelled at Clay. She twisted it, turned her body and wrenched his arm backwards. Her other hand sought his belt and after drawing his knife, she sunk it home.

Reaching down she picked up his dropped weapon and began shooting out the door. Stepping in the hallway she found her men down, as she expected. She knew they had done their best but they were overrun. If she and Clay didn’t get out of there soon they would suffer the same fate.

“Let’s go!” Genevieve shot towards the window giving Clay time to come to her location. She continued to shoot and hoped the ring was helping him not panic. He wasn't a trained soldier, hell she was literally in the process of showing him the weapons when they were attacked.

Attacked. Here. In her safe house. How and by who? The questions burned in the back of her mind but later she would have time to worry about it, to make calls. Right now she needed to get his ass out of here.
 
Clay scrambled across the floor grasping at one of the shells he'd fumbled with and dropped. Watching it roll behind the man Genevieve had stabbed in the chest Clay felt like this guy was going to land on him, only to have the guy fall back and crash over him flip over and land on his face. Clay could tell Genevieve was doing her best to wrestle with her last attacker when she stole his gun and shot up the door exiting her apartment. When she did call for him to move, all he could do was nod, shake his head a few times, and tried to reply over the noise of the chopper outside.

Clay yelled, "Coming!" as he fumbled about, scrambling out the door. Immediately thereafter he could hear the helicopter get closer to the window and someone opened up with a high caliber automatic rifle. Large bullets peppered the door to the apartment just after he jumped through it and into the hallway. The foot-thick concrete walls absorbed the automatic gunfire but that would only last so long while it protected Genevieve and him from any incoming fire. Stumbling down the hallway he could see she was bleeding, a knife stuck out of her side while leaned against the wall.

"Damn it! Stop... you're bleeding!" Clay yelled, calling after her while he raced to catch up. Holding the shotgun by the handguard while he attempted to try and help her walk. He didn't dare touch the knife, he'd figured out long ago, removing a knife from someone was like pulling your finger out of a leaking dike, once unplugged, she'd bleed out and he'd be on his own.

"Which way out of here?" Clay asked, only to have his comments drowned out by the sound of the helicopter. He thought he heard her say something about a stairway but her words drowned out from the noise, and when he heard the chopper leave its position to try and get a better angle on them he knew time was running short, they'd have to get further down, but whoever was in that chopper had a hard-on to try and kill him, her and they didn't care who else they took out in the process. NO... this had to end now.

In a rush of thoughts, Clay was no hero, hell he'd never been one to save anyone but himself, which was partially why he wondered why the ring had chosen him. His only experience with heroics was watching old war films with his dad, but he remembered one.. where they took out a chopper with. His mind raced and he looked around the hallway, finding one of Genevieve's guards' rifles, he picked it up and checked it, remembering all those scenes from action movies. Check the mag, check the chamber... which he did and took a remaining magazine from the inside of the guard's jacket. He had to move fast or the chopper would pin them down in this hallway, and it would turn into a funnel of death.

"Stay here.. stay down..." he calmly said, and ran, instead of away from the chopper towards the end of the hallway where it had been firing through the windows. His feet were unsteady and he stumbled then rolled and skid across the concrete floor of the hallway and could hear and feel his ribs get angry at him. One of them cracked as he landed on his side it sure felt like it. But at that moment he cared nothing about it a voice in his head telling him to ignore it and focus.

Crouching remaining small, and getting into the corner of the window he brought the rifle up and pointed it at the rear rotor blade of the chopper, and pulled the trigger.

The rifle barked as he held back the trigger an automatic burst of rounds pulsed out of the rifle. A blinding flash from the muzzle followed by a cascade of empty brass streaming over his right shoulder. The noise of the rifle rang in his ears as were his own screams, well he thought that was his voice, maybe? All of the noise was drowned out though by the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears. Clay had never fired a rifle before and tried to keep it on target but the recoil sent each shot north, which in his case was a good thing. A cascade of sparks flew out of the tail end of the rotor blade as it disintegrated tearing itself to pieces. Immediately Clay could see the pilot struggle to hold the craft stable as it started to tumble away falling into a flat spin and spiraling off into the darkness of the city below.

Following the falling chopper, he looked out the broken window and could see the vast expanse of a massive city. The cityscape was one he personally didn't recognize until he spotted a statue of a man with outstretched hands in the distance on a mountain top. Clay took note of it and nodded to himself but had far more pressing things to worry about, namely Genevieve.

Dropping the rifle and turning back to Genevive, he quickly ran to her and helped her up. "Not sure if we have any other company, but we better go." Urgency, and strength in his voice for the first time in his life Clay was determined to get them both out of here alive.
 
Her focus needed to be on the door, the hallway. But she also needed to make sure he was safe. It was clear he wasn’t trained for this, though she had already known it, seeing it in action was worrisome. Genevieve wasn’t sure what the ring would do to help him, protect him. That sort of magic was chaotic and unpredictable. It would not let him die, of that she was sure. Mostly.

She kept shooting anything she heard approaching in the halls while cursing him for not being faster. Her good side was pressed to the wall to help stabilize herself while she kept up the cover fire. She was shocked in a way to find him helping her to move. It was a very compassionate reaction and one she would not have had.

“We need to get to the stairs, get down to the parking area.” Genevieve spoke and quickly realized it was swallowed up by the helicopter’s sound. She grit her teeth and tried to pull him the way she wanted to go.

He seemed to have other ideas. Genevieve watched him as he picked up a rifle and told her to stay down. She raised her eyebrows a little at his order but there was no point to comment as he was gone. He was not the most skilled or graceful but then, he wasn’t a trained soldier. As he crouched and began to fire Genevieve turned and pressed herself against the wall. The shots, the yells...She closed her eyes and made herself focus on what was coming. Her wound screamed at her but she ignored it. There was time for it later. It wasn’t killing her yet.

The chopped crashed and the rumble of the impact caused a tremor in the building. Genevieve gave a hard, silent laugh. He had done it. He had taken out the chopper. “I’ll be damned…”

“There will be more but there is enough chaos to help us get out of here. Basement. Not the garage, we need to get outside and there will be a car. Alarms would have sounded. I have-” She stood, leaning heavily on him. “Others who will come. Get us to the airport and in the air.”

She began to walk hoping he got the hint and would move with her. She wasn’t entirely sure she could get far without help and as she continued to bleed it was only going to get harder.

Stairs, footsteps..She managed to still shoot her pistol when necessary as they picked their way down to the main floor.

As predicted there was chaos. Residents in the building and in the surrounding buildings filled the streets. Genevieve gestured silently to Clay of where to go to get them out of the crowds and to where someone would be waiting for them.

The black van was waiting. Four men waited on the outside, a fifth in the driver’s seat. “There.” One said as they spotted the pair. They began to approach.

“My men, don’t fight them.”
 
Clay took one look at Genevive as she started to stand while staggering toward the stairs and thought to himself. "Has she done this before? She's........." Clay was about to say something incredibly stupid, something about "stronger than any woman he'd ever met" but He knew very few, all of them strong, all of them driven, you had to be in the profession that he was in. But none of them fought as she did, none of them held a candle to what she was capable of. And she wasn't human, she was entirely something else, which was probably why she was able to survive as long as she had.

Stumbling down the six flights of stairs, Clay tried to keep any prying eyes from her and her wounds, but that only seemed to make things easier for those looking for them, two men were racing up the stairs and as Clay blocked their view of Genevive as if to prevent them from seeing her or her wounds, they got a good make on him. Each pulled their pistols out but the blocking worked to their advantage as Genevive made two quick shots, taking down both men before either of them could unholster their sidearm.

Both bodies collapsing on the stairs Clay didn't give it a whole lot more thought other than to get her down to the garage faster. the longer they stayed up here the more men who might find them, with little protection and no other way to go, Clay didn't want to waste time running through another floor or getting caught up with others who might get caught in a crossfire. so they kept to it and made it to the garage level.

At the bottom Clay pulled Genevive down behind a parked honda accord a few spaces from the exit door from the stairway, making sure not to pull out the knife, or make it worse. He looked across the long garage level and tried to see if there were any more gunmen headed in his direction. He didn't but what he did see was four men piling out of a black Mercedes sprinter cargo van. All of them were armed. but taking defensive positions around the vehicle.

"I think I see them.." Clay whispered. and helped her stand, two of them, one balled and the other a well built blond man ran up to them and took over.

"Has she been shot? Have you?" The man asked.

"No.. but she's been stabbed, I left the knife in, afraid she'd bleed out.."

Nodding, he waved over the blonde who helped pick up Genevive, carrying her to the cargo van.

"I'm.. Clay..you are?"Clay tried to start saying, hoping they'd introduce themselves.

"I know who you are human, pleasantries later..."

The man was all business, Ushering Clay into the van, while the rest piled in, and one of the other three screamed to the driver in a language Clay doesn't understand. The result being, that the tires squealed as they left swerving through traffic surely driving 10 times faster than the cargo van was originally designed for.

As they raced through the city he focused his attention to Genevieve. Clay watched as two of the men worked on her, trying to patch her up. one of them pouring what looked like a blue murky liquid into her mouth as they tried to encourage her to stage conscious.

"Genevive, hang in there...."

Clay could only sit and watch. When they arrived at the airport, all of them started making their way toward a small hanger, a twin-engine small jet was parked and prepped the engines at a low whine. In a slow procession, they got Genevieve on a backboard and carried her up and into the plane from a rear boarding ramp. Once she was in and the crew started to pull up the boarding ramp, closing the doors and sealing the cabin, the balled man stepped out of the cockpit, looking at Clay.

"Alright, Genevive is under sedation for the moment, she's healing, and hopefully will be awake later, but till then we need a destination, since you were the last to talk to her, where did she intend to take you?"

Knowing all eyes were on Clay, he spoke with as much confidence as he could muster.

"The library at Alexandria."

The man simply nodded, and returned to the cockpit, shutting the door behind him. Feeling the jet move and make a few turns through the airfield, Clay tried to get a better look at what they were doing with her, They'd made a makeshift medical bay in the back of the plane, but had forced him to go sit in the front in one of the large reclining chairs. Instead of getting in the way, Clay looked out the window nearest to him and watched as the jet quickly gathered speed and lifted off, banking quickly and heading off into the dark night. Below, Clay could see a few blinking lights.. and then nothing, they were out over the Atlantic ocean now. Any hope of backing out and trying to back to a normal life well done and gone after he took down that Chopper protecting Genevive. Clay sat and looked out into the blackness.. realizing that the world he'd known no more than 6 hours ago was truly gone, and with it he had to change as well, the question was, would he be up for it or would he fail like every time before. The ring suddenly grew warm.. a wash of calm came over him, as if a voice was telling him in his own head that indeed he could do this.. he must do this..

But he needed Genevive with him..
 
Focus was something Genevieve had. She had to get out of here. She had to get Clay to safety. She had to stop the fucking ringing in her ears. The more the chaos erupted around them the angrier and more annoyed she was becoming. It wasn’t Clay’s fault. In fact, he was doing more than he realized to help her stay calm. Genevieve didn’t like to feel annoyed or angry. She didn’t like to feel and right now it felt like every nerve was on fire and every emotion was at the surface.

Fucking mirror. Fucking knife. Fucking people. She clenched her teeth as they moved awkwardly down the stairs.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like chaos. She could, under normal circumstances, handle it. Genevieve was afterall, a known as Wraith for a reason. No matter the event she came in, did the job and vanished. No pretense, no hesitation, nothing. That was the point of the spell, the mirror…it made her good at her job by taking the human out of her. Now, well all that had gone to hell.

As they moved she realized Clay was actively trying to shield her, to keep her hidden from others fleeing the building and fighting. Even more so, he seemed to be trying to protect her from those that were intent on killing them. This amused her. It shouldn’t, of course but it did. Clay tried to claim he wasn’t the hero type and Genevieve sure as hell didn’t want or need a hero but here he was doing just that and she was letting him.

Clearly the explosions had rattled her brain. It was the only reason she could see that she was letting this occur.

She could almost sense the two before she saw them and fired on instinct, not worrying about Clay as if they had been doing this forever and he would just be where she needed, when he needed to let her make the shot and they could keep moving. She didn’t think about it, just acted.

They continued downwards, Genevieve hanging onto him. It was as they cleared the last step that she realized the injury was worse than she thought. It wasn’t just the loss of blood but she could feel her magic waning. She was going to lose consciousness soon and there was no more magic left to keep her going those last few steps. Blackness was creeping into the edges of her vision and panic was setting in. The feeling of panic was almost as terrifying as the circumstances. She hadn’t felt this since-

No. Genevieve forced herself to stay in the moment. The past was gone, it had no place here, not now. Her fingers dug into Clay’s arm. She was sitting now. A look of confusion was on her face. How the hell did she end up on the ground? This was bad. “Shit…” She muttered to herself.

Help was suddenly there. Well, more help than just Clay. Help to get them both out of this mess. It was going to be bad when she woke and made contact with her bosses but well now was not the time for that particular worry.

She was being lifted, carried. She muttered something in latin but there was nothing, no effect. She was utterly useless at the moment. She grew slightly nauseous as they moved her around and the van took off. Then she was swallowing. It was the last thing she remembered.

The dreams were- well she was dreaming which hadn’t happened in a long time and she remembered why she had chosen to lock away that part of her mind. Shadows with long fingers reaching for her. She fought them off until they swallowed her. She was well aware of the consequence of locking her emotions off as she had but she had never thought she would truly have to face them. She had planned to be dead before she ever had to worry about this.

Damn that ring. Damn Clay.

“Someone get me some water.” Her voice was raspy from the oxygen they had been giving her as they worked on the wound. A mixture of magic and medicine. She was healing faster than a human typically would but she was still healing. It was too deep an injury for magic to fix it entirely. She tried to sit up, growling softly at the discomfort she was in. Genevieve looked around the plane. “I see we made it to the airport. Water, please?”
 
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