Chapter Text
TW: violence, gore, death
***
She’s been running for a while now. Running down the quiet streets on London in the dead of the night. Her lungs burn and her legs are on fire, but she doesn’t stop. Her face bloodied and sweaty, pieces of hair sticking to her forehead. The mask that covers the bottom half of her face is the only thing that protects her identity.
She doesn’t know much about this place, she’s never been here before. But what she does know is that she needs to get out of sight. And fast. She stops in the middle of the road, a few cars going past her as she turns. Looking for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide. She can already hear the shouts and footsteps gaining on her every second she’s stood here. These people won’t stop until they have her back, or until she or them are dead. But even if they die, more will just be sent after her.
If she’s being honest, she doesn’t even know if they are trying to kill her or get her back right now. She guesses she will find out soon. Although she hopes she doesn’t.
The stares from people passing in cars are more than obvious, but she doesn’t blame them. She would stare too if there was a woman covered in blood and tears, wearing a white suit splattered with red stood in the middle of the road.
Her eyes scan the area until she makes up her mind. Looking at the large building in front of her. There’s a few banners out front, telling her that this is some kind of museum. It also looks empty, or at least it should be at this time of night. She can’t risk anymore casualties tonight, too many people have been hurt already. And these people will kill anyone to get to her.
So she begins to run again. Her body protesting at every movement but her mind forcing her to keep going. To keep trying. However, even she knows she can’t go on forever.
When she reaches the museum, she immediately regrets it. There’s so many stairs. More than she thought. She realises this was a mistake, and a bad one, the second she starts to climb. If running was hard, climbing these stairs is almost unbearable.
She’s about half-way up when the gunfire starts. She glances behind, they’re almost at the bottom of the steps.
She begins to try doge the bullets, still rushing up the steps as fast as her legs will take her. She runs across the flat surface and to the next set of steps. The final set.
There’s more shots fired as she climbs once more. Halfway. Only a few more steps. More shouting. More gunshots. And then a burning pain.
The shock of the pain blinds her momentarily. Causing her to trip over the next step. She falls, smashing her chin onto the concrete corner of the steps, a metallic taste immediately filling her mouth. A small scream leaves her mouth without warning, her hands gripping her thigh where the bullet hit. A dark patch of blood beginning to seep through.
When more shouting follows, she’s brought back to her senses. She’s sure that if it wasn’t for the insane amount of adrenaline coursing through her right now, she would struggle to even move. Regardless, she pushes herself up, spitting out the blood that has accumulated in her mouth and she begins to run again. Only this time she runs with a limp.
She makes it to the top, heading straight for the door of the place. It’s obvious the door will be locked, even if it isn’t, it would take too long to open it normally. So with quick thinking, a blast of blue magic comes from her hands. The doors fling open and she runs through. The moment she’s through the doors, she swings her arm to the side, closing the door behind her and bolting it shut. Running deeper into the museum, the sound of her heavy breaths and foot scraping the floor fill the air. This place is so quiet.
She runs into what she believes is the main area of the museum. Statues scattered around and what looks to be like a little shop of sweets and toys. There’s a light on above where the shop is, and dim ones everywhere else. Not doing much to light the place up. There’s also a bag sat on the shop counter.
She stops in the middle, hearing the bang on the door as her perusers try to get in. Her heart is beating so fast she wonders if she’s about to have a heart attack or something. She looks around, heading for the big exit which she assumes will lead to the rest of the museum halls.
She about a metre from turning the corner when someone steps out. She comes to an immediate stop, her eyes widening at the sight of someone in here. It’s so late, this guy shouldn’t be here. It’s clear he works here from his badge, but he’s definitely no security guard. The metal box in his hands falls, scattering sweets everywhere.
She stares at him. He looks scared, but when his eyes focus on Jasmine, his eyes grow wide on his face.
The man is young, can’t be more than 3-4 years older than her. He looks tired, dark bags under his eyes, his hair a mess and shirt untucked. He looks quite built though for a guy who works in a museum. She wonders if maybe he serves in the army or something similar. But everything else about this guy tells her otherwise.
“What the bloody hell happened to you?” He asks, a strong British accent coming through. Beneath his accent, she can hear the fear in his voice.
There’s another loud bang on the door behind. She turns her head, looking at the door and seeing the lock is almost undone. She looks back at the man, whose attention has been taken to the door. He’s probably working out that she’s being chased by now.
She starts running again, her leg still dragging. She grabs the man as she runs into him, using him partially for stability. He gasps, clearly not expecting it as she shoves them both behind a pillar in the hallway just as the door flies open. The sound of the wood bouncing off the wall echo’s through the place.
The man opens his mouth, about to say something but Jasmine’s bloodied hand clamps over his mouth. Stopping all sound coming from him. His wide eyes look down at her, despite all the fear he feels. It’s the fear shown in her eyes that scare him the most.
Everything falls silent, only the quiet treads of footsteps walking can be heard. She listens carefully, counting at least 6 people.
Her eyes glide up to the man, meeting his eyes. She decides he won’t saying anything, and slowly removes her hand from his mouth. Leaving a smear of blood on his jaw. Her hands go to her leg, her blood beginning to drip onto the floor. She tightens the knife strap on her upper thigh, hoping to stem the flow of blood to her leg.
She looks back at the man, knowing she can’t leave him here, especially if she wants to fight her way out. He will surely get hit in this position.
She leans against him, feeling his heavy breaths against her chest as she looks around the corner. She sees the group of 6, all heading towards the shop with their guns raised. Clearly thinking she’s there due to the light.
She grips the guys arm, pulling him down slightly so she can whisper in his ear.
“Run” she whispers, barely audible.
She releases his arm in that same moment and begins to run. Although with every second it becomes harder.
He’s quick to follow, but his footsteps aren’t as quiet as Jasmine’s. She already knows it’s bound to have captured the attention of her pursuers. She hadn’t thought about that.
Definitely not army, she thinks to herself.
Quickly thinking of what she can do, she rams the man sideways. Slamming them both against a gap between the wall and two statues. Their bodies pressed together so tightly their breaths mix. She feels the guys hands on her arms, probably stabilising himself from how hard she rammed him. They stay there, not moving a muscle to stay hidden.
She pushed them just in time because the group comes running around the corner. They see the long expanse of the hallway and they know she’s hidden somewhere down here. They all prepare for a fight.
“Where are you?” A female’s voice says. Her voice echoing down the hall, only making the softness of her voice more ominous.
Jasmine shifts her position only slightly, removing the weight from her leg.
“You can’t run forever” another says. She knows she can’t, and that’s the problem. She’s been running for a while now, and it’s taking it’s toll. “Come back to us. We provide everything you need. Food. Water. Shelter”
“Where would you go?” A male voice echos, “you have no place in this world”
Jasmine closes her eyes, taking two deep breaths. Her hand goes to her thigh, gripping the knife in her hand and she opens her eyes again. Looking at the man.
“Get out of here” she whispers. He nods quickly.
Then she steps out. Before they get a chance to fire at her, she flings all their guns backwards, out of them hands. None of them are surprised, but Jasmine knows she can’t use much more of her power with how low her energy level is now. And they know that too.
They all pull out their knives, and she does too. All of them preparing to fight.
The man is still hidden, just watching in fear. Waiting for the right opportunity to run.
“Do you really want to kill us?” One of them say.
Jasmine tilts her head slightly. Just one more time, she tells herself. And then she begins o walk forwards. Or rather limp forwards.
The people exchange glances, and then come for her.
She throws the knife into the closest ones head, their body dropping to the ground as she grabs the knife on her opposite thigh. Ducking out of the way of a knife that’s swung towards her, stabbing the person in the chest.
She narrowly misses the next knife that’s swung at her. Grabbing the arm of the person, she quickly disarms them.
The man comes out of the gap, locking eyes with Jasmine. Her knife about the slit the throat of the man she has hold of. In that brief moment, Jasmine sees the same look she’s seen so many times before. The pure horror in his eyes, before he starts running in the opposite direction as she kills the man. Then she turns back to the final three.
- - -
She stands in the hallway, surrounded by 6 lifeless bodies. The once clean tiled floor now covered in blood. She looks down at the bloody knife in her hand, seeing her reflection within it. She hates it. Seeing herself splattered in blood.
Sirens ring through the hall, coming from outside the building, accompanied by shouts and gunfire.
She turns around, running in the direction the man took. She guesses there’s an exit this way.
Crashing through the fire exit, she falls down the steps and lands at the bottom in a heap. She groans, starting to drag herself, wanting to get as far away as possible. But she doesn’t make it far.
She gets about 3 metres from the building when her arms finally give out. Her face landing on the wet grass, having no energy left to even lift it. Her hands carefully go down to her thigh, feeling the blood coming from it as her head feels lighter. She knows she’s lost too much blood.
It doesn’t take a medical expert to know that after you loose a certain amount of blood, you’re not going to make it. She feels tears run down her cheek. She’s about to die at the hands of the very people she’s longed to escape. She hasn’t had the chance to live. To find out who she really is.
Her life has just been full of pain and misery since she can remember.
That’s when she hears it. This… voice.
“Don’t cry” it says. “I can save you”
“Hello?” Jasmine chokes through the blood in her mouth. She lifts her head slightly, confused and trying to look around to find the source of the voice. But there’s nothing there. Nobody. She’s sure she’s just imagining what she wants to hear now in her final moments.
“I’m Osiris, an Egyptian God. I can save your life, but in return I will need your help. Help me send troubled souls to the afterlife to receive their justice. You, Jasmine, appear to be the perfect candidate” she takes in what the voice says. Now sure she’s going crazy, she vaguely remembers something about Egyptian Gods on one of the banners outside the museum.
“Do you swear to deliver justice to those with troubled souls and help seek vengeance against those who have done wrong?” The voice whom claims to be Osiris says.
Jasmine stares up at the sky, looking at the moon. It’s bright tonight. She’s always loved the moon. If she’s going to die, tonight would be a perfect night to do so. Her face forms a bloodied smile as she looks at it. She can’t remember the last time she saw it this bright.
The question asked of her seems to finally register in her mind. She decides to agree. What else does she have to loose?
“I swear” she replies.
****