Behind her, Clara could hear Benson running.  His steps were too loud, his breathing was already labored despite his level of fitness, and his sweat stunk of fear and frustration.  She knew on a very primal level that he was trying like hell to keep up with her as she tore around trees and dodged branches, brush, and roots that tried to trip her up.<br/><br/>Running like this was freeing.  She hadn’t run like this in…<br/><br/>...well, since Reed was alive.<br/><br/>“Cl-!”<br/><br/>Benson calling out the start of her name pulled her from maudlin memories just in time for over three hundred pounds of not-quite-human to slam into her.  Genetically enhancements were of no help when she was distracted or, like now, tackled quite beautifully.  The small blonde hit the ground with a pained grunt.  Within a heartbeat, however, she was struggling mightily beneath the bulk on top of her.<br/><br/>“Freeze, fucker!”  Her escort had finally caught up to her and was advancing slowly, his weapon aimed right at Hanz’s head.  As much as he thought Clara and her kind were freaks of nature, he was under strict orders to make sure no harm came to her; creating her kind was not inexpensive.  “I<b>will</b>blow your brains out if you so much as move an inch.”<br/><br/>Beneath the brute, Clara froze.  Without augmented senses such as hers, it would take him precious milliseconds to aim and squeeze the trigger if the large man decided to disobey.  Once more her nostrils flared as each shallow inhale flooded her olfactory center with the scent of this newcomer.  It wasn’t repulsive.  It was...interesting.<br/><br/>“Get up nice and slow,” growled Benson as he stepped closer, twigs snapping under his boots.