memento mori [DNF]

Chapter 8

Clay regained consciousness with a pounding headache. Before he opened his eyes though, he remembered what happened. He thought it'd better to keep his eyes closed until he could get a better feel for where he was at. He thought he might have been killed, but this didn't feel like his own house. It was decently cool and he was in a weird position. He was laying on his side and realized that his hands were tied behind his back. He still was unsure if he was in his real or false body. Somebody could've taken his real body and tied him up like this, waiting for him to regain consciousness after the mission. He listened but couldn't hear anything, or see any light through his eyelids. The air felt almost damp. He thought he could be in some kind of cell, but that wouldn't make sense no matter what body he was in. Despite the pounding in his head and the urge to go back to sleep, he needed to figure out what kind of situation he was in. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering if he could look around the room without alerting anyone.

"Oh you're up!" Clay almost jumped out of his skin. The shock caused his head to pound even harder. Not even two feet away from his was George, laying down on his side facing him. His flight or flight kicked in and he tried to stand up, but winced in pain as soon as he moved his leg. He looked down, forgetting that he had injured it, or rather, that George had. There was a blood soaked bandage wrapped around his leg though which surprised him. Did George do that?

"Hm." Clay looked back up at George who wore a disappointed expression on his face, "I'm no doctor but I tried to get most of the pencil out and cleaned it as well as I could. It's actually pretty funny when I think about it. I've never had anyone come at me with a pencil. You're resourceful."

"Why?" Clay's voice was stale. He had no intentions of entertaining whatever George was trying to pull. He just wanted to complete the mission and get out of this damaged body.

"Why... did I bring you back here and patch you up?" Clay stayed silent letting George know he was answering the right question. "I'm honestly not sure. You seemed like an interesting character. I also thought you were an assassin at first but you're still here so u guess not."

Clay tensed up. "Still here?"

"Yeah well I thought you were an assassin but that scuffle of ours was a little over 24 hours ago and if you were one, your body would've dissipated by now."

Clay thought for a second before laughing to himself. This was the best possible thing that could've happened for Clay. George was unaware that they had made a serum that could last for longer than 24 hours. This was perfect for him. However, that also meant that Levy and Nick were going to be worried when they realized his real body wasn't waking back up. His plan to return in under 24 hours had drastically been changed. His top priority was still to get out of there as fast as he could though.

The lighting in the room was dim, coming from a single oil lamp. The damp air led Clay to believe that they were in a basement. He looked up again and his eyes met with George's. He had refined features, but soft eyes.

Neither of them had said anything for a minute or two and Clay had broken eye contact shortly after making it, as he felt awkward. For now though, he thought it best to play into George's game.

"So why are there assassins after you?" He lightened his voice up a bit to give the impression that he was more relaxed, however he wouldn't be letting his guard down.

"Because I wouldn't kill a girl." Clay couldn't help but laugh to himself a bit. A guy who killed several assassins refused to kill a woman?

"Was she pretty?"

"She was nine."

"...Nine?" Clay immediately felt stupid for his last remark. He turned back on his side to face George.