Access Denied: The Bullseye

13. Fundamental Fires

Death by gun was probably the easiest. Quick, effective and efficient.

Genevieve wasn't a fan of true crime television. She didn't like spy-thrillers or heist movies either. In fact she wasn't a fan of television and film at all. It was all fiction anyway. Even the truth in them was based on real events.

But one true thing from secret-agent movies and TV shows she knew was true, was that the last thing you brought to a fight was a gun. And it was reaffirmed by Kiara Deaton multiple times.

For someone who didn't like to talk so much, she gushed about guns.

The only thing that can defend you from danger is you, yourself. No one else, Genevieve. Nothing else. For what it was worth, Genevieve did like good speech and dialogue if not the movie itself.

"You're waiting for the kick," she told her. Taking the gun, Kiara emptied and refilled the magazine. "Just keep your hand firm and in place when the shot is done."

Genevieve nodded. She had tried to get herself out of this some time ago. But winning against Deaton was difficult. It was hard to win an argument when only you participated. Kiara Deaton was insufferable in that way. You couldn't get through to her. Perhaps, you could break her, but that would be more work than fruit. Like a wall. Deaton was like a wall.

Another shot fired. "I really don't think this is productive." Genevieve sighed. A shot even near the target was just pathetic hope. "But we, could tell me about this new boss in Blind Spot and what's happening on this mission right now?"

She'd said it sweetly. Sweet doesn't work on Deaton.

"Listen, then how about you just leave me alone," her normal voice returned. She walked to put the gun back—near Deaton's feet. A sign of surrender and peace. But clearly, Deaton didn't understand that.

Deaton's feet padded against the grass as she walked with Genevieve above her head. The only sort of movement that warranted her, was hitting her back with her flailing arms. But that seemed scary too since being this high with her being balanced on Deaton's shoulders. Closing her eyes was best. "Put me down!"

Nothing. "Put me down, Deaton," she said, not hitting her anymore. "I mean it."

Of course you mean it. She knows that. She tried to look for a way to get out. But to get down without Deaton willingly setting her down was Genevieve willingly breaking her head open. The image was becoming clearer in her head the more time she spent up here. The altitude was getting to her.

Finally she said: "Put. me. down."

"Good," Deaton said. "You're angry. You want to fight now."

"Deaton!"

"Here's what we'll do, since you don't like my gun-practise idea"—Genevieve could hear the smile in her voice. It wasn't good—"Basic self-defense."

"Deaton," she said. "Fine. We'll do the guns. Put me down and we'll do the guns."

The afternoon's were shorter this time of year, meaning that in some minutes it would look like midnight. And she'd still be on someone's back. Walking—carrying—her away from the shooting area, Deaton spoke. "Nope. Sorry. We're not doing that anymore. You know whenever a man will try to attack you, this will be the first thing he tries."

"Picking me up?"

"Yep," she told her. "It will also be the easiest lock you ever get out of."

It was blurry when she opened her eyes. The wobbly balance and bones digging in her side weren't great at all. Genevieve truly believed that Deaton had the upper body strength to hold her like this for a very long time. The sun was setting. The bugs came out in the dark. She had to get down fast. "You aren't going to let me down?"

Her arms were gripping her shoulders, she let go. Deaton wasn't really protecting anything. And the side of her stomach was open and unprotected. Vulnerable. And Genevieve could reach there. On one hand, Genevieve doubted Kiara would let her win so easily, she did say that it was the "easiest" lock. On the other hand, she couldn't really think of another shot.

"Nope."

"Fine." She took the shot. And Deaton didn't even react. Not even surprised. Genevieve was put down. "Thank you."

"I meant it when I said that's the easiest lock you'll get out of. First thing men try on any woman—they pick you up. It is so pathetic a move, a chihuahua could get out of it. At most intimidating because of the height or maybe... I don't know really. It's not that intimidating."

Genevieve had no idea where this was going. She's already taken you under her wing. Flynn had told her that. He had left her with Kiara. She didn't want to be here. Kiara Deaton was her "body guard", that just did not seem right. But with all her vices she was bearable. Though Genevieve didn't explicitly like Kiara, she didn't hate her either. And honestly right now there was no one else she would rather be with.

Things were a bit awkward with her brother. That and he was always doing something. Always. He was either on the phone or on the computer or talking to someone in tech-y language. There was no way she was going to even try to initiate conversation there. Nicole was sometimes just too much for Genevieve. Now being conscious about her panic attacks, she noticed nothing really changed. Nicole was the same bright person that now went on random walks from time to time. Most times Carlos reeked of alcohol even when sober and the other times he was talking to Flynn. And Flynn always—always wanted to help her. She didn't even want to think about "you're part of the team" talk. It had gotten repetitive and too genuine now.

Kiara wasn't too talkative, she kept to herself and didn't pry. Granted the occasional urge to teach Genevieve combat and not leaving her alone, she wasn't that bad. Kiara Deaton wasn't the best of the group of agents. She was just the least worst.

Genevieve had learned her lesson. She couldn't pry from Kiara Deaton. She would always know. So she picked up the gun with blank shells and fired. It was a half-hearted effort and she made sure it showed.

The first shot fired. The tilt in her stance and smug look on Kiara's face definitely said "idiot". The first kick of pain shot through her arm when the gun recoiled. After that thrusts of pain followed. She dropped the gun like burning coal. "And that is why you don't do things half-assed."

She looked at her bodyguard. "Can you—you know what? Never mind."

Genevieve wasn't sad. She was just angry. That's why the tears were difficult to hold in. She had turned around before Kiara could see. Deaton was definitely on the list of the reasons she wasn't liking her situation. She might not be its highlight, but she was a part of it.

Rushing in, she entered the kitchen and put her hand under the water. It made it cooler but other than that didn't really help. What was she thinking it would do? No one noticed her. She massaged her hurting arm and looked as Jackson passed the kitchen doorway talking to someone.

Her gaze fell to a knife on the counter. That would be an easy death too. But it depended on the killer—would they take their time or stab straight away? What would be the good option? Would someone be wrong for killing her? She was a thief. Everyone knew it. Just because she helped catch someone worse than her didn't erase her damage. She remembered Zuri Obano telling her that he considered stealing among the higher of crimes. A form of "emotional damage". Sentimental value sometimes is higher than monetary and physical worth.

To think about, no one here was really good. They were a part of a hidden organization that helped out criminals if they were worth the trouble. The only redeeming thing about Blind Spot was that they were slightly better than the people they captured and killed. They didn't always do what was right.

Genevieve deserved to be in jail. She shouldn't try to help herself. She shouldn't be saved. Nothing she did made her worth anything. She was useless to this mission and probably only an incentive for her genius brother. She was—

"What are you doing here?" Jackson said, grabbing her shooting arm. He looked confused and out of breath. "We have to go. We've been found."

"How?"

"I don't know. Maybe we were followed or tracked. I mean you met Redstone, that can't just be coincidence. Maybe he tracked you—I don't, I don't know. We just have to go and hide. Now Nevi."